[_First published in_ The Westminster Review _for April,_ 1857.
_Though the ideas and illustrations contained in this essay were
eventually incorporated in_ First Principles, _yet I think it well
here to reproduce it as exhibiting the form under which the General
Doctrine of Evolution made its first appearance._]
The current conception of progress is shifting and indefinite. Sometimes
it comprehends little more than simple growth--as of a nation in the
number of its members and the extent of territory over which it spreads.
Sometimes it has reference to quantity of material products--as when the
advance of agriculture and manufactures is the topic. Sometimes the
superior quality of these products is contemplated; and sometimes the
new or improved appliances by which they are produced. When, again, we
speak of moral or intellectual progress, we refer to states of the
individual or people exhibiting it; while, when the progress of Science,
or 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 great measure erroneous. It
takes in not so much the reality of progress as its accompaniments--not
so much the substance as the shadow. That progress in intelligence seen
during the growth of the child into the man, or the savage into the
philosopher, is commonly regarded as consisting in the greater number
of facts known and laws understood; whereas the actual progress consists
in those internal modifications of which this larger knowledge is the
expression. Social progress is supposed to consist in the making 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 structure in the social organism which have
entailed these consequences. The current conception is a teleological
one. The phenomena are contemplated solely as bearing on human
happiness. Only those changes are held to constitute progress which
directly or indirectly tend to heighten human happiness; and they are
thought to constitute progress simply _because_ they tend to heighten
human happiness. But rightly to understand progress, we must learn the
nature of these changes, considered apart from our interests. Ceasing,
for example, to regard the successive geological modifications that have
taken place in the Earth, as modifications that have gradually fitted it
for the habitation of Man, and as _therefore_ constituting geological
progress, we must ascertain the character common to these
modifications--the law to which they all conform. And similarly in every
other case. Leaving out of sight concomitants and beneficial
consequences, let us ask what progress is in itself.
In respect to that progress which individual organisms display in the
course of their evolution, this question has been answered by the
Germans. The investigations of Wolff, Goethe, and von Baer, have
established 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 the 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 become as definite as the original one. This process is
continuously repeated--is simultaneously going on in all parts of the
growing embryo; and by endless such differentiations there is finally
produced that complex combination of tissues and organs constituting the
adult animal or plant. This is the history of all organisms whatever. It
is settled beyond dispute that organic progress consists in a change
from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous.
Now, we propose in the first place to show, that this law of organic
progress is the law of all progress. Whether it be in the development of
the Earth, in the development of Life upon its surface, in the
development of Society, of Government, of Manufactures, of Commerce, of
Language, Literature, Science, Art, this same evolution of the simple
into the complex, through successive differentiations, holds throughout.
From the earliest traceable cosmical changes down to the latest results
of civilization, we shall find that the transformation of the
homogeneous into the heterogeneous, is that in which progress
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 gravitation of its atoms there
resulted a gradual concentration. By the hypothesis, the solar system in
its nascent state existed as an indefinitely extended and nearly
homogeneous medium--a medium almost homogeneous in density, in
temperature, and in other physical attributes. The first change in the
direction of increased aggregation, brought a contrast in density and a
contrast in temperature, between the interior and the exterior of this
mass. Simultaneously the drawing in of outer parts caused motions ending
in rotation round a centre with various angular velocities. These
differentiations increased in number and degree 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
the planets, in bulk and in weight; as well as the subordinate contrasts
between one planet and another, and between the planets and their
satellites. There is the similarly-marked contrast between the sun as
almost stationary (relatively to the other members of the Solar System),
and the planets as moving round him with great velocity: while there are
the secondary 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 sun. There is the yet further strong contrast between
the sun and the planets in respect of temperature; and there is good
reason to suppose that the planets and satellites differ from each other
in their proper heats, as well as in the amounts of heat they receive
from the sun. When we bear in mind that, in addition to these various
contrasts, the planets and satellites also differ in respect to their
distances from each other and their primary; in respect to the
inclinations of their orbits, the inclinations of their axes, their
times of rotation on 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 complete
homogeneity of the nebulous mass out 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 evidence. It is now generally agreed
among geologists and physicists that the Earth was at one time a mass
of molten matter. If so, it was at that time relatively homogeneous in
consistence, and, in virtue of the circulation which takes place in
heated fluids, must have been comparatively homogeneous in temperature;
and it must have been surrounded by an atmosphere consisting partly of
the elements of air and water, and partly of those various other
elements which are among the more ready to assume gaseous forms 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, necessarily required an immense time to produce any decided change,
must ultimately have resulted in the solidification of the portion most
able to part with its heat--namely, 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
deposition of all solidifiable elements contained in the atmosphere,
must finally have been followed by the condensation of the water
previously existing as vapour. 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 must thus
have resulted the first geographical distinction of parts. To these
illustrations of growing heterogeneity, which, though deduced from known
physical laws, may be regarded as more or less hypothetical, Geology
adds an extensive series that have been inductively established.
Investigations show that the Earth has been continually becoming more
heterogeneous in virtue of the multiplication of sedimentary strata
which form its crust; also, that it has been becoming more heterogeneous
in respect of the composition of these strata, the later of which, being
made from the detritus of the earlier, are many of them rendered highly
complex by the mixture of materials they contain; and further, that this
heterogeneity has been vastly increased by the actions of the Earth's
still molten nucleus upon its envelope, whence have resulted not only
many kinds 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 smallest, 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
considerable portion of the Earth's exposed surface is like any other
portion, either in contour, in geologic structure, or in chemical
composition; and that in most parts it changes from mile to mile in all
these characters. Moreover, there has been simultaneously going on a
differentiation of climates. As fast as the Earth cooled and its crust
solidified, there arose appreciable differences in temperature between
those parts of its surface more exposed to the sun and those less
exposed. As the cooling progressed, these differences became more
pronounced; until there finally resulted those marked contrasts between
regions of perpetual ice and snow, regions where winter and summer
alternately reign for periods varying according to the latitude, and
regions where summer follows summer with scarcely an appreciable
variation. At the same time the many and varied elevations and
subsidences of portions of the Earth's crust, bringing about the present
irregular distribution of land and sea, have entailed modifications of
climate beyond those dependent on latitude; while a yet further series
of such modifications have been produced by increasing differences of
elevation in the land, which have in sundry places brought arctic,
temperate, and tropical climates to within a few miles of one another.
And the general outcome 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, between
our existing Earth, the phenomena of whose crust neither geographers,
geologists, mineralogists, nor meteorologists have yet enumerated, and
the molten globe out of which it was evolved, the contrast in
heterogeneity is extreme.
When from the Earth itself we turn to the plants and animals which have
lived, or still live, upon its surface, we find ourselves in some
difficulty from lack of facts. That every existing organism has been
developed out of the simple into the complex, is indeed the first
established truth of all; and that every organism which existed in past
times was similarly developed, is an inference no physiologist will
hesitate to draw. But when we pass from individual forms of life to Life
in 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 Flora and Fauna are more heterogeneous than the Flora and Fauna
of the past,--we find the evidence so fragmentary, that every conclusion
is open to dispute. Three-fifths of the Earth's surface being covered by
water; a great part of the exposed land being inaccessible to, or
untravelled 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 impossible for us
to say with certainty 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 numerous sedimentary strata,
and the great gaps occurring among the rest, we shall see further reason
for distrusting 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 there were no creatures higher than reptiles,--renders it daily
more manifest how small is the value of negative evidence. On the other
hand, the worthlessness of the assumption that we have discovered the
earliest, or anything like the earliest, organic remains, is becoming
equally clear. That the oldest known sedimentary rocks have been greatly
changed by igneous action, and that still older ones have been totally
transformed 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
destruction of sedimentary strata has been going on. Thus the title
_Palaeozoic_, as applied to the earliest known fossiliferous strata,
involves a _petitio principii_; and, for aught we know to the contrary,
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 has
advanced. Let us cite, in illustration, the one case of the
_Vertebrata_. The earliest known vertebrate remains are those of Fishes;
and Fishes are the most homogeneous of the vertebrata. Later and more
heterogeneous are Reptiles. Later still, and more heterogeneous still,
are Birds and Mammals. If it be said that the Palaeozoic deposits, not
being estuary deposits, are not likely to contain the remains of
terrestrial vertebrata, which may nevertheless have existed at that era,
we reply that we are merely pointing to the leading facts, _such as they
are_. But to avoid any such criticism, let us take the mammalian
subdivision only. The earliest known remains of mammals are those of
small marsupials, which are the lowest of the mammalian type; while,
conversely, the highest of the mammalian type--Man--is the most recent.
The evidence that the vertebrate fauna, as a whole, has become more
heterogeneous, is considerably stronger. To the argument that the
vertebrate fauna of the Palaeozoic period, consisting, so far as we know,
entirely of Fishes, was less heterogeneous 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
Palaeozoic 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 Palaeozoic period consisted entirely of
cartilaginous fishes, the marine vertebrata of later periods include
numerous genera of osseous fishes; and that, therefore, the later marine
vertebrate 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 mammalian remains in the tertiary
formations than in the secondary formations. Did we wish merely to make
out the best case, we might dwell upon the opinion of Dr. Carpenter, who
says that "the general facts of Palaeontology appear to sanction the
belief, that _the same plan_ may be traced out in what may be called
_the general life of the globe_, as in _the individual life_ of every
one of the forms of organized being which now people it." Or we might
quote, as decisive, the judgment of Professor Owen, who holds that the
earlier examples of each group of creatures severally departed less
widely from archetypal generality than the later examples--were
severally less unlike the fundamental form common to the group as a
whole; and thus constituted a less heterogeneous group of creatures. But
in deference to an authority for whom we have the highest respect, who
considers that the evidence at present obtained does not justify a
verdict either way, we are content to leave the question open.[2]
Whether an advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is or is
not displayed 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 true alike that, during the period in which the
Earth has been peopled, the human organism has grown more heterogeneous
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 these races from each
other. In proof of the first of these positions, we may cite the fact
that, in the relative development 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 Australian has very small legs: thus reminding us of the
chimpanzee and the gorilla, which present no great contrasts in size
between the hind and fore limbs. But in the European, the greater length
and massiveness of the legs have become marked--the fore and hind limbs
are more heterogeneous. Again, the greater ratio which the cranial bones
bear 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 segments
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 jaws, &c. Now this
characteristic, which is stronger in Man than in any other creature, is
stronger in the European 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 heterogeneous nervous system
than the uncivilized man: and, indeed, the fact is in part visible in
the increased ratio which his cerebrum bears to the subjacent ganglia,
as well as in the wider departure from symmetry in its convolutions. If
further elucidation be needed, we may find it in every nursery. The
infant European has sundry marked points of resemblance to the lower
human races; as in the flatness of the alae of the nose, the depression
of its bridge, the divergence and forward opening of the nostrils, the
form of the lips, the absence of a frontal sinus, the width between 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
continuation of that change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous
displayed during the previous evolution of the embryo, which every
anatomist will admit; it follows that the parallel developmental process
by which the like traits of the barbarous races have been turned into
those of the civilized races, has also been a continuation of the change
from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. The truth of the second
position--that Mankind, as a whole, have become more heterogeneous--is
so obvious as scarcely to need illustration. Every work on Ethnology, by
its divisions and subdivisions of races, bears testimony to it. Even
were we to admit the hypothesis that Mankind originated from several
separate stocks, it would still remain true, that as, from each of these
stocks, there have sprung many now widely-different tribes, which are
proved by philological evidence to have had a common origin, the race as
a whole is far less homogeneous than it once was. Add to which, that we
have, in the Anglo-Americans, an example of a new variety arising
within these few generations; and that, if we may trust to the
descriptions of observers, we are likely soon to have another such
example in Australia.
On passing from Humanity under its individual form, to Humanity as
socially embodied, we find the general law still more variously
exemplified. The change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is
displayed in the progress of civilization as a whole, as well as in the
progress of every nation; and is still going on with increasing
rapidity. As we see in existing barbarous tribes, society in its first
and lowest form is a homogeneous aggregation 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. Very early, however, in the course of social evolution,
there arises 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 or the most cunning makes itself
felt among a body of savages as in a herd of animals, or a posse of
schoolboys. At first, however, it is indefinite, uncertain; is shared by
others of scarcely inferior power; and is unaccompanied by any
difference in occupation or style of living: 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 governing and the governed
grows more decided. Supreme power becomes 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 office of ruling. At the same
time there has been arising a co-ordinate species of government--that
of Religion. As all ancient records and traditions 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
enforced by their divinely-descended successors; who in their turns are
promoted to the pantheon of the race, here to be worshipped and
propitiated along with their predecessors: the most ancient of whom is
the supreme god, and the rest subordinate gods. For a long time these
connate forms of government--civil and religious--remain closely
associated. For many generations the king continues to be the chief
priest, and the priesthood to be members of the royal race. For many
ages religious law continues to include more or less of civil
regulation, and civil law to possess more or less of religious sanction;
and even among the most advanced nations these two controlling agencies
are by no means completely separated from each other. Having a common
root with these, and gradually diverging from them, we find yet another
controlling agency--that of Ceremonial usages. All titles of honour are
originally the names of the god-king; afterwards of the 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 address
were at first the expressions of submission from prisoners to their
conqueror, or from subjects to their ruler, either human or
divine--expressions which were afterwards used to propitiate subordinate
authorities, and slowly descended into ordinary intercourse. All modes
of salutation were once obeisances made before the monarch and used in
worship of him after his death. Presently others of the god-descended
race were similarly saluted; and by degrees some of the salutations
have become the due of all.[3] Thus, no sooner does the
originally-homogeneous social mass differentiate into the governed and
the governing parts, than this last exhibits an incipient
differentiation into religious and secular--Church and State; while at
the same time there begins to be differentiated from both, that less
definite species of government which rules our daily intercourse--a
species of government which, as we may see in heralds' colleges, in
books of the peerage, in masters of ceremonies, is not without a certain
embodiment of its own. Each of these is itself subject to successive
differentiations. In the course of ages, there arises, as among
ourselves, a highly complex political organization of monarch,
ministers, lords and commons, with their subordinate administrative
departments, courts of justice, revenue offices, &c., supplemented in
the provinces by municipal governments, county governments, parish or
union governments--all of them more or less elaborated. By its side
there grows up a highly complex religious organization, with its various
grades of officials, from archbishops down to sextons, its colleges,
convocations, ecclesiastical courts, &c.; 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 increasing heterogeneity in the
governmental appliances of each nation, has been accompanied by an
increasing heterogeneity in the assemblage of governmental appliances of
different nations: all nations being more or less unlike in their
political systems and legislation, in their creeds and religious
institutions, in their customs and ceremonial 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 distinct classes and orders of workers. While the
governing part has undergone the complex development above detailed, the
governed part has undergone an equally complex development, which has
resulted in that minute division of labour characterizing advanced
nations. It is needless to trace out this progress from its first
stages, up through the caste-divisions of the East and the incorporated
guilds of Europe, to the elaborate producing and distributing
organization existing among ourselves. It has been an evolution which,
beginning with a tribe whose members severally perform the same actions
each for himself, ends with a civilized community whose members
severally perform different actions for each other; and an evolution
which has transformed the solitary producer of any one commodity 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 homogeneous to the heterogeneous in the
industrial organization of society. Long after considerable progress has
been made in the division of labour among different classes of workers,
there is still little or no division of labour among the widely
separated parts of the community: the nation continues comparatively
homogeneous in the respect that in each district the same occupations
are pursued. But when roads and other means of transit become numerous
and good, the different districts begin to assume different functions,
and to become mutually dependent. The calico manufacture locates itself
in this county, the woollen-cloth manufacture 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 distinguished from the
rest by the leading occupation carried on in it. This subdivision 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 is increasing so largely, will ultimately have the effect of
specializing, in a greater or less degree, the industry of each people.
So that, beginning with a barbarous tribe, almost if not quite
homogeneous in the functions of its members, the progress has been, and
still is, towards 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 functions 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.
The law thus clearly exemplified in the evolution of the social
organism, is exemplified with equal clearness in the evolution of all
products of human thought and action; whether concrete or abstract, real
or ideal. Let us take Language as our first illustration.
The lowest form of language is the exclamation, by which an entire idea
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 elements, is an established fact. In the gradual
multiplication of parts of speech out of these primary ones--in the
differentiation of verbs into active and passive, of nouns into abstract
and concrete--in the rise of distinctions 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 minute modifications of meaning--we see a change
from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. Another aspect under which we
may trace the development of language is the divergence of words having
common origins. Philology early disclosed the truth that in all
languages words may be grouped into families, the members of each of
which are allied by their derivation. Names springing from a primitive
root, themselves become the parents of other names still further
modified. And by the aid of those systematic modes which presently
arise, of making derivatives and forming compound terms, there is
finally developed a tribe of words so heterogeneous in sound and
meaning, that to the uninitiated it seems incredible they should be
nearly related. Meanwhile from other roots there are being evolved other
such tribes, until there results a language of some sixty thousand or
more unlike words, signifying as many unlike objects, qualities, acts.
Yet another way in which language in general advances from the
homogeneous to the heterogeneous, is in the multiplication of languages.
Whether all languages have grown from one stock, or whether, as some
philologists think, they have grown from two or more stocks, it is clear
that since large groups 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
differentiations of race, has simultaneously led to differentiations of
speech: a truth which we see further illustrated in each nation by the
distinct dialects found in separate 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 language, we come upon several classes
of facts, having similar implications. Written language is connate with
Painting and Sculpture; and at first 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 example the Australians and the tribes of
South Africa, are given to depicting personages 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 among the
Assyrians, we find mural paintings used to decorate the temple of the
god and the palace of the king (which were, indeed, originally
identical); and as such they were governmental appliances in the same
sense as state-pageants and religious feasts were. They were
governmental appliances in another way: representing as they did the
worship of the god, the triumphs of the god-king, the submission of his
subjects, and the punishment of the rebellious. Further, they were
governmental, as being the products of an art reverenced by the people
as a sacred mystery. From the habitual use of this pictorial
representation there grew up the but-slightly-modified practice of
picture-writing--a practice which was found still extant among North
American peoples at the time they were discovered. By abbreviations
analogous to those still going on in our own written language, the most
frequently-recurring of these pictured figures were successively
simplified; and ultimately there grew up a system of symbols, most of
which had but distant resemblances to the things for which they 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 ideographic
forms; and among them, as among the Egyptians, these had been partially
differentiated into the _kuriological_ or imitative, and the _tropical_
or symbolic; which were, however, used together in the same record. In
Egypt, written language underwent a further differentiation, whence
resulted the _hieratic_ and the _epistolographic_ or _enchorial_; both
of which are derived from the original hieroglyphic. At the same time we
find that for the expression of proper names, which could not be
otherwise conveyed, signs having phonetic values were employed; and
though it is alleged that the Egyptians never achieved complete
alphabetic writing, yet it can scarcely be doubted that these phonetic
symbols, occasionally used in aid of their ideographic ones, were the
germs of an alphabetic system. Once having become separate from
hieroglyphics, alphabetic writing itself underwent numerous
differentiations--multiplied alphabets were produced; between most of
which, however, more or less connection can still be traced. And in each
civilized nation there has now grown up, for the representation of one
set of sounds, several sets of written signs used for distinct purposes.
Finally, from writing diverged printing; which, uniform in kind as it
was at first, has since become multiform.
While written language was passing through its first stages of
development, the mural decoration which contained its root was being
differentiated into Painting and Sculpture. The gods, kings, men, and
animals represented, were originally marked by indented outlines and
coloured. In most cases these outlines were of such depth, and the
object they circumscribed so far rounded and marked out in its leading
parts, as to form a species of work intermediate between intaglio 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
restored Assyrian architecture at Sydenham exhibits this style of art
carried to greater perfection--the persons and things represented,
though still barbarously coloured, are carved out with more truth and in
greater detail: and in the winged lions and bulls used for the angles of
gateways, we may see a considerable advance towards a completely
sculptured figure; which, nevertheless, is still coloured, and still
forms part of the building. But while in Assyria the production of a
statue proper seems to have been little, if at all, attempted, we may
trace in Egyptian art the gradual separation of the sculptured figure
from the wall. A walk through the collection in the British Museum
shows this; while at the same time it affords an opportunity of
observing the traces which the independent statues bear of their
derivation from bas-relief: seeing that nearly all of them not only
display that fusion of the legs with one another and of the arms with
the body which is characteristic of bas-relief, but have the back united
from head to foot with a block which stands in place of the original
wall. Greece repeated the leading stages of this progress. On the
friezes of Greek Temples, were coloured bas-reliefs representing
sacrifices, battles, processions, games--all in some sort religious. The
pediments contained painted sculptures more or less united with the
tympanum, and having for subjects the triumphs of gods or heroes. Even
statues definitely separated from buildings were coloured; and only in
the later periods of Greek civilization does the differentiation of
Sculpture from Painting appear to have become complete. In Christian art
we may trace a parallel re-genesis. All early works of art throughout
Europe were religious in subject--represented Christs, crucifixions,
virgins, holy families, apostles, saints. They formed integral parts of
church architecture, and were among the means of exciting worship; as in
Roman Catholic countries they still are. Moreover, the sculptured
figures of Christ on the cross, of virgins, of saints, were coloured;
and it needs but to call to mind the painted madonnas still abundant in
continental churches and highways, to perceive the significant fact that
Painting and Sculpture continue in closest connection with each other
where they continue in closest connection with their parent. Even when
Christian sculpture became 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 mostly devoted to sacred
legends. Only in recent times have painting and sculpture become quite
separate and mainly secular. Only within these few centuries has
Painting been divided into historical, landscape, marine, architectural,
genre, animal, still-life, &c.; and Sculpture grown heterogeneous in
respect of the variety of real and ideal subjects with which it occupies
itself.
Strange as it seems then, we find 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 resemblance as they
now have, the landscape that hangs against the wall, and the copy of the
_Times_ lying on the table, are remotely akin. The brazen face of the
knocker which the postman has just lifted, is related not only to the
woodcuts of the _Illustrated London News_ which he is delivering, but to
the characters of the _billet-doux_ which accompanies it. Between the
painted window, the prayer-book on which its light falls, and the
adjacent monument, there is consanguinity. The effigies on our coins,
the signs over shops, the coat of arms outside the carriage panel, and
the placards inside the omnibus, are, in common with dolls and
paper-hangings, lineally descended from the rude sculpture-paintings in
which ancient peoples 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 by successive differentiations 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 displayed not
only in the separation of Painting and Sculpture from Architecture and
from each other, and in the greater variety of subjects they embody, but
it is further shown in the structure of each work. A modern picture or
statue is of far more heterogeneous nature than an ancient one. An
Egyptian sculpture-fresco usually represents all its figures as at the
same distance from the eye; and so is less heterogeneous than a
painting that represents them as at various distances from the eye. It
exhibits all objects as exposed to the same degree of light; and so is
less heterogeneous than a painting which exhibits its different objects
and different parts of each object as in different degrees of light. It
uses chiefly the primary colours, and these in their full intensities;
and so is less heterogeneous than a painting which, introducing the
primary colours but sparingly, employs numerous intermediate tints, each
of heterogeneous composition, and differing from the rest not only in
quality but in strength. Moreover, we see in these early works great
uniformity of conception. The same arrangement of figures is perpetually
reproduced--the same actions, attitudes, faces, dresses. In Egypt the
modes of representation were so fixed that it was sacrilege to introduce
a novelty. The Assyrian bas-reliefs display parallel characters.
Deities, kings, attendants, winged-figures and animals, are time after
time depicted in like positions, holding like implements, doing like
things, and with like expression or non-expression of face. If a
palm-grove is introduced, 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 rest; and the fish, almost always of one
kind, are evenly distributed over the surface. The beards 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
represented throughout by one form of curl. The king's beard is quite
architecturally built up of compound tiers of uniform curls, alternating
with twisted tiers placed in a transverse direction, and arranged with
perfect regularity; and the terminal tufts of the bulls' tails are
represented in exactly the same manner. Without tracing out analogous
facts in early Christian art, in which, though less striking, they are
still visible, the advance in heterogeneity will be sufficiently
manifest on remembering that in the pictures of our own day the
composition is endlessly varied; the attitudes, faces, expressions,
unlike; the subordinate objects different in sizes, forms, textures; and
more or less of contrast even in the smallest details. Or, if we compare
an Egyptian statue, seated bolt upright on a block, with hands on knees,
fingers parallel, eyes looking straight forward, and the two sides
perfectly symmetrical in every particular, with a statue of the advanced
Greek school or the modern school, which is asymmetrical in respect of
the attitude of the head, the body, the limbs, the arrangement of the
hair, dress, appendages, and in its relations to neighbouring objects,
we shall see the change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous
clearly manifested.
In the co-ordinate origin and gradual differentiation of Poetry, Music,
and Dancing, we have another series of illustrations. Rhythm in words,
rhythm in sounds, and rhythm in motions, were in the beginning parts of
the same thing, and have only in process of time become separate things.
Among existing barbarous tribes we find them still united. The dances of
savages are accompanied by some kind of monotonous chant, the clapping
of hands, the striking of rude instruments: there are measured
movements, measured words, and measured tones. The early records of
historic races similarly show these three forms of 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. And as it is generally
agreed that this representation of the Deity was borrowed from the
mysteries of Apis, it is probable that the dancing was copied from that
of the Egyptians on those occasions." Again, in Greece the like relation
is everywhere seen: the original type being there, as probably in other
cases, a simultaneous chanting and mimetic representation of the life
and adventures of the hero or the god. The Spartan dances were
accompanied by hymns and songs; and in general the Greeks had "no
festivals or religious assemblies but what were accompanied with songs
and dances"--both of them being forms of worship used before altars.
Among the Romans, too, there were sacred dances: the Salian and
Lupercalian being named as of that kind. And even in Christian
countries, as at Limoges, in comparatively recent times, the people have
danced in the choir in honour of a saint. The incipient separation of
these once-united arts from each other and from religion, was early
visible in Greece. Probably diverging from dances partly religious,
partly warlike, as the Corybantian, came the war-dances proper, of which
there were various kinds. Meanwhile Music and Poetry, though still
united, came to have an existence separate from Dancing. The primitive
Greek poems, religious in subject, were not recited but chanted; and
though at first the chant of the poet was accompanied by the dance of
the chorus, it ultimately grew into independence. Later still, when the
poem had been differentiated into epic and lyric--when it became the
custom to sing the lyric and recite the epic--poetry proper was born. As
during the same period musical instruments were being multiplied, we may
presume that music came to have an existence apart from words. And both
of them were beginning to assume 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 minstrels,
who sang to the harp heroic narratives versified by themselves to music
of their own composition: thus uniting the now separate offices of poet,
composer, vocalist, and instrumentalist. But, without further
illustration, the common origin and gradual differentiation of Dancing,
Poetry, and Music will be sufficiently 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
afterwards undergoes. Not to dwell upon the numberless kinds of dancing
that have, in 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 organization; let us
confine our attention to music as a type of the group. As implied by the
customs of still extant barbarous races, the first musical instruments
were, without doubt, percussive--sticks, calabashes, tom-toms--and were
used simply to mark the time of the dance; and in this constant
repetition of the same sound, we see music in its most homogeneous form.
The Egyptians had a lyre with three strings. The early lyre of the
Greeks had four, constituting their tetrachord. In course of some
centuries lyres of seven and eight strings were employed; and, by the
expiration of a thousand years, they had advanced to their "great
system" of the double octave. Through all which changes there of course
arose a greater heterogeneity of melody. Simultaneously there came into
use the different modes--Dorian, Ionian, Phrygian, AEolian, and
Lydian--answering to our keys; and of these there were ultimately
fifteen. As yet, however, there was but little heterogeneity in the time
of their music. Instrumental music being at first merely the
accompaniment of vocal music, and vocal music being subordinated to
words,--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 resulted a tiresome uniformity of measure, which, as Dr.
Burney says, "no resources of melody could disguise." Lacking the
complex rhythm obtained by our equal bars and unequal notes, the only
rhythm was that produced by the quantity of the syllables, and was of
necessity comparatively monotonous. And further, it maybe observed that
the chant thus resulting, being like recitative, was much less clearly
differentiated from ordinary speech than is our modern song.
Nevertheless, in 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 multiplication of instruments, music had,
towards the close of Greek civilization, attained to considerable
heterogeneity--not indeed as compared with our music, but as compared
with that which preceded it. Still, there existed nothing but melody:
harmony was unknown. It was not until Christian church-music had reached
some development, that music in parts was evolved; and then it came into
existence through a very unobtrusive differentiation. Difficult as it
may be to conceive _a priori_ how the advance from melody to harmony
could take place without a sudden leap, it is none 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. Afterwards it
became the practice--very possibly 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 use, a partially-harmonious fugue
might not improbably thus result: and a very partially-harmonious fugue
satisfied the ears of that age, as we know from still preserved
examples. The idea having once been given, the composing 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 introducing notes of various 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, with music
as it was, to see how immense is the increase of heterogeneity. We see
this if, looking at music in its _ensemble_, we enumerate its many
different genera and species--if we consider the divisions into vocal,
instrumental, and mixed; and their subdivisions into music for
different voices and different instruments--if we observe the many forms
of sacred music, from the simple hymn, the chant, the canon, motet,
anthem, &c., 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 symphony. Again, the same truth is seen on comparing any
one sample of aboriginal music with a sample of modern music--even an
ordinary song for the piano; which we find to be relatively very
heterogeneous, not only in respect of the variety in the pitches and in
the lengths of the notes, the number of different 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 monotonous
dance-chant and a grand opera of our own day, with its endless
orchestral complexities and vocal combinations, the contrast in
heterogeneity is so extreme that it seems scarcely credible that the one
should have been the ancestor of the other.
Were they needed, many further illustrations might be cited. Going back
to the early time when the deeds of the god-king were recorded in
picture-writings on the walls of temples and palaces, and so constituted
a rude literature, we might trace the development of Literature through
phases in which, as in the Hebrew Scriptures, it presents in one work
theology, cosmogony, history, biography, law, ethics, poetry; down to
its present heterogeneous development, in which its separated divisions
and subdivisions are so numerous and varied as to defy complete
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 cultivated by the same men; 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 the
like with Architecture, with the Drama, with Dress. But doubtless the
reader is already weary of illustrations; and our promise has been amply
fulfilled. Abundant proof has been given that the law of organic
development formulated by von Baer, is the law of all development. 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
evolution of the Earth; it is seen in the unfolding of every single
organism on its surface, and in the multiplication of kinds of
organisms; it is seen in the evolution of Humanity, whether contemplated
in the civilized individual, or in the aggregate 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 concrete and abstract products of human
activity 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
transformation of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous.
* * * * *
And now, must not this uniformity of procedure be a consequence of some
fundamental necessity? May we not rationally seek for some all-pervading
principle which determines this all-pervading process of things? Does
not the universality of the _law_ imply a universal _cause_?
That we can comprehend such cause, noumenally considered, is not to be
supposed. To do this would be to solve that ultimate mystery which must
ever transcend human intelligence. But it still may be possible for us
to reduce the law of all progress, above set forth, 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 consequences of the law of gravitation; so it may be possible
to interpret this law of progress, in its multiform manifestations, as
the necessary consequence of some similarly universal principle. As
gravitation was assignable as the _cause_ of each of the groups of
phenomena which Kepler generalized; so may some equally simple attribute
of things be assignable as the cause of each of the groups of phenomena
generalized in the foregoing pages. We may be able to affiliate all
these varied evolutions of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous, upon
certain facts of 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, first, to ask what must be the
general characteristics of such cause, and in what direction we ought to
look for it. We can with certainty predict that it has a high degree of
abstractness; seeing that it is common to such infinitely-varied
phenomena. We need not expect to see in it an obvious solution of this
or that form of progress; because it is equally concerned with forms of
progress bearing little apparent resemblance to them: its association
with multiform orders of facts, involves its dissociation from any
particular order of facts. Being that which determines progress of every
kind--astronomic, geologic, organic, ethnologic, social, economic,
artistic, &c.--it must be involved with some fundamental trait displayed
in common by these; and must be expressible in terms of this fundamental
trait. The only obvious respect in which all kinds of progress are
alike, is, that they are modes of _change_; and hence, in some
characteristic of changes in general, the desired solution will probably
be found. We may suspect _a priori_ that in some universal law of change
lies the explanation 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:--_Every active force produces more than one change--every cause
produces more than one effect._
To make this proposition comprehensible, a few examples must be given.
When one body strikes 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 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, which is
communicated to the surrounding air; and under some circumstances we
call this the effect. Moreover, the air has not only been made to
undulate, but has had currents caused in it by the transit of the
bodies. Further, there is a disarrangement of the particles of the two
bodies in the neighbourhood 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 spark--that
is, light--results, from the incandescence of a portion struck off; and
sometimes this incandescence is associated with chemical combination.
Thus, by the mechanical force expended in the collision, at least five,
and often more, different kinds of changes have been produced. Take,
again, the lighting of a candle. Primarily this is a chemical change
consequent on a rise of temperature. The process of combination having
once been started by extraneous heat, there is a continued formation of
carbonic acid, water, &c.--in itself a result more complex than the
extraneous heat that first caused it. But accompanying this process of
combination there is a production of heat; there is a production of
light; there is an ascending column of hot gases generated; there are
inflowing currents set going in the surrounding air. Moreover, the
complicating of effects does not end here: each of the several changes
produced becomes the parent of further changes. The carbonic acid given
off will by and by combine with some base; or under the influence of
sunshine give up its carbon to the leaf of a plant. The water will
modify the hygrometric state of the air around; or, if the current of
hot gases containing it comes against a cold body, will be condensed:
altering the temperature of the surface it covers. The heat given out
melts the subjacent tallow, and expands whatever it warms. The light,
falling on various substances, calls forth from them reactions by which
its composition is modified; and so divers colours are produced.
Similarly even with these secondary actions, which may be traced out
into ever-multiplying ramifications, 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 evolve forces of several kinds,
and each of these, other groups of forces. Universally the effect is
more complex than the cause.
Doubtless the reader already foresees the course of our argument. This
multiplication of effects, which is displayed in every event of to-day,
has been going on from the beginning; and is true of the grandest
phenomena of the universe as of the most insignificant. From the law
that every active force produces more than one change, it is an
inevitable corollary that during the past there has been an ever-growing
complication of things. Throughout creation there must have gone on, and
must still go on, a never-ceasing transformation of the homogeneous into
the heterogeneous. Let us trace this truth in detail.
Without committing ourselves to it as more than a speculation, though a
highly probable one, let us again commence with the evolution of the
Solar System out of a nebulous medium. The hypothesis is that from the
mutual attraction of the molecules of a diffused mass whose form is
unsymmetrical, there results not only condensation but rotation. While
the condensation and the rate of rotation go on increasing, the
approach of the molecules is necessarily accompanied by an increasing
temperature. As the temperature rises, light begins to be evolved; and
ultimately there results a revolving sphere of fluid matter radiating
intense heat and light--a sun. There are reasons for believing that, in
consequence of the higher tangential velocity originally possessed by
the outer parts of the condensing nebulous mass, there will be
occasional detachments of rotating rings; and that, from the breaking up
of these nebulous rings, there will arise masses which in the course of
their condensation repeat the actions of the parent mass, and so produce
planets and their satellites--an inference strongly supported by the
still extant rings of Saturn. Should it hereafter be satisfactorily
shown that planets and satellites were thus generated, a striking
illustration will be afforded of the highly heterogeneous effects
produced by the primary homogeneous cause; but it will serve our present
purpose to point to the fact that from the mutual attraction of the
particles of an irregular nebulous mass there result condensation,
rotation, heat, and light.
It follows as a corollary from the Nebular Hypothesis, that the Earth
must once have been incandescent; and whether the Nebular Hypothesis be
true or not, this original incandescence of the Earth is now inductively
established--or, if not established, at least rendered so highly
probable that it is an accepted 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 and in a smaller
degree the sun) the tides, aqueous and atmospheric. From the inclination
of its axis, there result the many differences of the seasons, both
simultaneous and successive, that pervade its surface, and from the same
cause joined with the action of the moon on the equatorial protuberance
there results the precession of the equinoxes. Thus the multiplication
of effects is obvious. Several of the differentiations due to the
gradual cooling of the Earth have been already noticed--as the formation
of a crust, the solidification of sublimed elements, the precipitation
of water, &c.,--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 multiplied changes afterwards 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 cannot support itself, inevitably
follows the nucleus. But a spheroidal envelope cannot sink down into
contact with a smaller internal spheroid, without disruption: it must
run into wrinkles as the rind of an apple does when the bulk of its
interior decreases from evaporation. As the cooling progresses and the
envelope thickens, the ridges consequent on these contractions will
become greater, rising ultimately into hills and mountains; and the
later systems of mountains thus produced will not only be higher, as we
find them to be, but will be longer, as we also find them to be. Thus,
leaving out of view other modifying forces, we see what immense
heterogeneity of surface has arisen from the one cause, loss of heat--a
heterogeneity which the telescope shows us to be paralleled on the face
of Mars, and which in the moon too, where aqueous and atmospheric
agencies have been absent, it reveals under a somewhat different form.
But we have yet to notice another kind of heterogeneity of surface
similarly and simultaneously 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 rested with great
evenness upon the subjacent liquid spheroid; and the water in those
arctic and antarctic regions in which it first condensed, must have been
evenly distributed. But as fast as the crust thickened and gained
corresponding strength, the lines of fracture from time to time caused
in it, must have occurred at greater distances apart; the intermediate
surfaces must have followed the contracting nucleus with less
uniformity; and there must have resulted larger areas of land and water.
If any one, after wrapping up an orange in tissue paper, and observing
not only how small are the wrinkles, but how evenly the intervening
spaces lie upon the surface of the orange, will then wrap it up in thick
cartridge-paper, and note both the greater height of the ridges and the
larger spaces throughout which the paper does not touch the orange, he
will realize the fact that, as the Earth's solid envelope grew thicker,
the areas of elevation and depression increased. In place of islands
homogeneously dispersed amid an all-embracing sea, there must have
gradually arisen heterogeneous arrangements of continent and ocean. Once
more, this double change in the extent and in the elevation of the
lands, involved 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 the ocean, have
an outline extremely irregular both in its leading features and in its
details. Thus, multitudinous geological and geographical results are
slowly brought about by this one cause--the contraction of the Earth.
When we pass from the agency termed igneous, to aqueous and atmospheric
agencies, we see the like ever-growing complications of effects. The
denuding actions of air and water, joined with those of changing
temperature, have, from the beginning, been modifying every exposed
surface. Oxidation, heat, wind, frost, rain, glaciers, rivers, tides,
waves, have been unceasingly producing disintegration; varying in kind
and amount according to local circumstances. Acting upon a tract of
granite, they here work scarcely an appreciable effect; there cause
exfoliations of the surface, and a resulting heap of _debris_ and
boulders; and elsewhere, after decomposing the feldspar into a white
clay, carry away this and the accompanying quartz and mica, and deposit
them in separate beds, fluviatile and marine. When the exposed land
consists of several unlike kinds of sedimentary strata, or igneous
rocks, or both, denudation produces changes proportionably more
heterogeneous. The formations being disintegrable in different degrees,
there follows an increased irregularity of surface. The areas drained by
different rivers being differently constituted, these rivers carry down
to the sea different combinations of ingredients; and so sundry new
strata of unlike compositions are formed. And here we may see very
simply illustrated, the truth, which we shall presently have to trace
out in more involved cases, that in proportion to the heterogeneity of
the object or objects on which any force expends itself, is the
heterogeneity of the effects. A continent of complex structure, exposing
many strata irregularly distributed, raised to various levels, tilted up
at all angles, will, under the same denuding agencies, give origin to
innumerable and involved results: each district must be differently
modified; each river must carry down a different kind of detritus; each
deposit must be differently distributed 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 surface is
greatest.
Here we might show how the general truth, that every active force
produces more than one change, is again exemplified in the
highly-involved flow of the tides, in the ocean currents, in the winds,
in the distribution of rain, in the distribution 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 catastrophe--say the subsidence
of Central America. The immediate results of the disturbance would
themselves be sufficiently complex. Besides the numberless dislocations
of strata, the ejections of igneous matter, the propagation of
earthquake vibrations thousands of miles around, the loud explosions,
and the escape of gases; there would be the rush of the Atlantic and
Pacific Oceans to fill the vacant space, the subsequent recoil of
enormous waves, which would traverse both these oceans and produce
myriads of changes along their shores, the corresponding atmospheric
waves complicated by the currents surrounding each volcanic vent, and
the electrical discharges with which such disturbances are accompanied.
But these temporary effects would be insignificant compared with the
permanent ones. The currents of the Atlantic and Pacific would be
altered in their directions and amounts. The distribution of heat
achieved by those ocean currents would be different from what it is. The
arrangement of the isothermal lines, not only on neighbouring
continents, but even throughout Europe, would be changed. The tides
would flow differently from what they do now. There would be more or
less modification of the winds in their periods, strengths, directions,
qualities. Rain would fall scarcely anywhere at the same times and in
the same quantities as at present. In short, the meteorological
conditions thousands of miles off, on all sides, would be more or less
revolutionized. Thus, without taking into account the infinitude of
modifications which these changes would produce upon the flora and
fauna, both of land and sea, the reader will perceive the immense
heterogeneity of the results wrought out by one force, when that force
expends itself upon a previously complicated area; and he will draw the
corollary that from the beginning the complication has advanced at an
increasing rate.
Before going on to show how organic progress also depends on the law
that every force produces more than one change, we have to notice the
manifestation of this law in yet another species of inorganic
progress--namely, chemical. The same general causes that have wrought
out the heterogeneity of the Earth, physically considered, have
simultaneously wrought out its chemical heterogeneity. 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 hydrogen; and the
great majority of chemical compounds are decomposed at much lower
temperatures. But without insisting on the highly probable inference,
that when the Earth was in its first state of incandescence there were
no chemical combinations at all, it will suffice for our purpose to
point to the unquestionable fact that the compounds which can exist at
the highest temperatures, and which must, therefore, have been the first
that were formed as the Earth cooled, are those of the simplest
constitutions. The protoxides--including under that head the alkalies,
earths, &c.--are, as a class, the most stable compounds we know: most of
them resisting decomposition by any heat we can generate. These are
combinations of the simplest order--are but one degree less homogeneous
than the elements themselves. More heterogeneous, less stable, and
therefore later in the Earth's history, are the deutoxides, tritoxides,
peroxides, &c.; in which two, three, four, or more atoms of oxygen are
united with one atom of metal or other element. Higher than these in
heterogeneity are the hydrates; in which an oxide of hydrogen, united
with an oxide of some other element, forms a substance whose atoms
severally contain at least four ultimate atoms of three different kinds.
Yet more heterogeneous and less stable still are the salts; which
present us with molecules 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
complicated supersalts and double salts, having a stability again
decreased; and so throughout. Without entering into qualifications for
which space fails, we believe no chemist will deny it to be a general
law of these inorganic combinations that, _other things equal_, the
stability decreases as the complexity increases. When we pass to the
compounds of organic chemistry, we find this general law still further
exemplified: we find much greater complexity and much less stability. A
molecule of albumen, for instance, consists of 482 ultimate atoms of
five different kinds. Fibrine, still more intricate in constitution,
contains in each molecule, 298 atoms of carbon, 49 of nitrogen, 2 of
sulphur, 228 of hydrogen, and 92 of oxygen--in all, 669 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; second, in the greater number of different elements contained
in the more modern of these compounds; and third, in the higher and more
varied multiples in which these more numerous elements combine.
To say that this advance in chemical heterogeneity 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 atmospheric agencies have been
concerned; and further, that the affinities of the elements themselves
are implied. The cause has all along been a composite one: the cooling
of the Earth having been simply the most general of the concurrent
causes, or assemblage of conditions. And here, indeed, it may be
remarked that in the several classes of facts already dealt with
(excepting, perhaps, the first), and still more in those with which we
shall presently deal, the causes are more or less compound; as indeed
are nearly all causes with which we are acquainted. Scarcely any
change can rightly be ascribed to one agency alone, to the neglect of
the permanent or temporary conditions under which only this agency
produces the change. But as it does not materially affect our argument,
we prefer, for simplicity's sake, to use throughout the popular mode of
expression. Perhaps it will be further objected, that to assign loss of
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
inaccuracy in saying that the freezing of water is due to the loss of
its heat, no practical error arises from it; nor will a parallel laxity
of expression vitiate our statements respecting the multiplication of
effects. Indeed, the objection serves but to draw attention 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.
Returning to the thread of our exposition, we have next to trace,
throughout organic progress, this same all-pervading principle. And
here, where the evolution of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous was
first observed, the production of many effects 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 which determine it are
so involved, and at the same time so unobtrusive, that it is difficult
to detect the multiplication of effects which is elsewhere so obvious.
But, guided by indirect evidence, we may safely conclude that here too
the law holds. Note, first, how numerous are the changes which any
marked action works upon an adult organism--a human being, for instance.
An alarming sound or sight, besides the impressions on the organs of
sense and the nerves, may produce a start, a scream, a distortion of
the face, a trembling consequent on general muscular relaxation, a burst
of perspiration, a rush of blood to the brain, followed possibly by
arrest of the heart's action and by syncope; and if the subject be
feeble, an indisposition with its long train of complicated 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,
loss of appetite, thirst, epigastric uneasiness, vomiting, headache,
pains in the back and limbs, muscular weakness, convulsions, delirium,
&c.; in the second stage, cutaneous eruption, itching, tingling, sore
throat, swelled fauces, salivation, cough, hoarseness, dyspnoea, &c.;
and in the third stage, oedematous inflammations, pneumonia, pleurisy,
diarrhoea, inflammation of the brain, ophthalmia, erysipelas, &c.:
each of which enumerated symptoms is itself more or less complex.
Medicines, special foods, better air, might in like manner be instanced
as producing multipled results. Now it needs only to consider that the
many changes thus wrought by one force upon an adult organism, will be
in part paralleled in an embryo organism, to understand how here also,
the evolution of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous may be due to
the production of many effects by one cause. The external heat, which,
falling on a matter having special proclivities, determines the first
complications of the germ, may, by acting on these, superinduce further
complications; upon these still higher and more numerous ones; and so on
continually: each organ as it is developed serving, by its actions and
reactions on the rest, to initiate new complexities. The first
pulsations of the foetal heart must simultaneously aid the unfolding
of every part. 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 tissues. The
heart's action, implying as it does a certain waste, necessitates an
addition to the blood of effete matters, which must influence the rest
of the system, and perhaps, as some think, cause the formation of
excretory organs. The nervous connexions 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
on it determines. Again, it is a well-established fact that the larva of
a working-bee will develop into a queen-bee, if before it is too late,
its food be changed to that on which the larvae of queen-bees are fed.
All which instances suggest that the proximate cause of each advance in
embryonic complication is the action of incident forces upon the
complication previously existing. Indeed, we may find _a priori_ reason
to think that the evolution proceeds after this manner. For since no
germ, animal or vegetal, contains the slightest rudiment or indication
of the future organism--since the microscope has shown us that the first
process set up in every fertilized germ, is a process of repeated
spontaneous fissions ending in the production of a mass of cells, not
one of which exhibits any special character; there seems no alternative
but to suppose that the partial organization at any moment existing in a
growing embryo, is transformed by the agencies acting upon it into the
succeeding phase of organization, and this into the next, until, through
ever-increasing complexities, the ultimate form is reached. Not indeed
that we can thus really explain the production of any plant or animal.
We are still in the dark respecting those mysterious properties in
virtue of which the germ, when subject to fit influences, undergoes the
special changes that begin the series of transformations. All we aim to
show, is, that given a germ possessing those particular proclivities
distinguishing the species to which it belongs, and the evolution of an
organism from it, probably depends on that multiplication 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 Paleontology has accumulated, do not
clearly warrant us in saying that, in the lapse of geologic time, there
have been evolved more heterogeneous organisms, and more heterogeneous
assemblages of organisms, yet we shall now see that there _must_ ever
have been a tendency towards 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 heterogeneity of the Earth, has
further involved an increasing heterogeneity in its flora and fauna,
individually and collectively. An illustration will make this clear.
Suppose that by a series of upheavals, occurring, as they are now known
to do, at long 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 upheavals, the plants and
animals inhabiting Borneo, Sumatra, New Guinea, and the rest, would be
subjected to slightly modified sets of conditions. The climate in
general would be altered in temperature, in humidity, and in its
periodical variations; while the local differences would be multiplied.
These modifications would affect, perhaps inappreciably, the entire
flora and fauna of the region. The change of level would produce
additional modifications: varying in different 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
visible changes of appearance. While still greater alterations would
occur in the plants gradually spreading over the lands newly raised
above the sea. The animals and insects living on these modified plants,
would themselves be in some degree modified 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 revolution thus resulting would not be a substitution 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 changed forms. Each species
being distributed over an area of some extent, and tending continually
to colonize the new area exposed, its different members would be subject
to different sets of changes. Plants and animals spreading towards the
equator would not be affected in the same way as others spreading from
it. Those spreading towards 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 other; and
while some of these might subsequently disappear, probably more than one
would survive in the next geologic period: the very dispersion itself
increasing the chances of survival. Not only would there be certain
modifications thus caused by change of physical conditions and food, but
also in some cases other modifications caused by change of habit. The
fauna of each island, peopling, step by step, the newly-raised tracts,
would eventually come in contact with the faunas of other islands; and
some members of these other faunas would be unlike any creatures before
seen. Herbivores meeting with new beasts of prey, would, in some cases,
be led into modes of defence or escape differing from those previously
used; and simultaneously the beasts of prey would modify their modes of
pursuit and attack. We know that when circumstances demand it, such
changes of habit _do_ take place in animals; and we know that if the new
habits become the dominant ones, they must eventually in some degree
alter the organization. Observe now, however, a further consequence.
There must arise not simply a tendency towards the differentiation of
each race of organisms into several races; but also a tendency to the
occasional production of a somewhat higher organism. Taken in the mass
these divergent varieties which have been caused by fresh physical
conditions and habits of life, will exhibit changes quite indefinite in
kind and degree; and changes that do not necessarily constitute an
advance. Probably in most cases the modified type will be neither more
nor less heterogeneous than the original one. In some cases the habits
of life adopted being simpler than before, a less heterogeneous
structure will result: there will be a retrogradation. But it _must_ now
and then occur, that some division of a species, falling into
circumstances which give it rather more complex experiences, and demand
actions somewhat more involved, will have certain of its organs further
differentiated in proportionately small degrees,--will become slightly
more heterogeneous. Thus, in the natural course of things, there will
from time to time arise an increased heterogeneity both of the Earth's
flora and fauna, and of individual races included in them. Omitting
detailed explanations, and allowing for the qualifications which cannot
here be specified, we think it is clear that geological mutations have
all along tended to complicate the forms of life, whether regarded
separately or collectively. The same causes which have led to the
evolution of the Earth's crust from the simple into the complex, have
simultaneously led to a parallel evolution of the Life upon its surface.
In this case, as in previous ones, we see that the transformation of the
homogeneous into the heterogeneous is consequent upon the universal
principle, that every active force produces more than one change.
The deduction here drawn from the established 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 experience. Just that
divergence of many races from one race, which we inferred must have been
continually occurring during geologic time, we know to have occurred
during the pre-historic and historic periods, in man and domestic
animals. And just that multiplication of effects which we concluded must
have produced the first, we see has produced the last. Single causes, as
famine, pressure of population, war, have periodically led to further
dispersions of mankind and of dependent creatures: each such dispersion
initiating new modifications, new varieties of type. Whether all the
human races be or be not derived from one stock, philology makes it
clear that whole groups of races now easily distinguishable from each
other, were originally one race,--that the diffusion of one race into
different climates and conditions of existence, has produced many
modified forms of it. Similarly with domestic animals. Though in some
cases--as that of dogs--community of origin will perhaps be disputed,
yet in other cases--as that of the sheep or the cattle of our own
country--it will not be questioned that local differences of climate,
food, and treatment, have transformed one original breed into numerous
breeds now become so far distinct as to produce unstable hybrids.
Moreover, through the complication of effects flowing from single
causes, we here find, what we before inferred, not only an increase of
general heterogeneity, but also of special heterogeneity. While of the
divergent divisions and subdivisions of the human race many have
undergone changes not constituting an advance; while in some the type
may have degraded; in others it has become decidedly more heterogeneous.
The civilized European departs more widely from the vertebrate archetype
than does the savage. Thus, both the law and the cause of progress,
which, from lack of evidence, can be but hypothetically substantiated in
respect of the earlier forms of life on our globe, can be actually
substantiated in respect of the latest forms.[4]
If the advance of Man towards greater heterogeneity is traceable to the
production of many effects by one cause, still more clearly may the
advance of Society towards greater heterogeneity be so explained.
Consider the growth of an industrial organization. When, as must
occasionally happen, some member of a tribe displays unusual aptitude
for making an article of general use--a weapon, for instance--which was
before made by each man for himself, there arises a tendency towards the
differentiation of that member 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 liking, for making such weapons (the
talent and the desire for any occupation being commonly associated), is
predisposed to fulfil each commission on the offer of an adequate
reward: especially as his love of distinction is also gratified and his
living facilitated. This first specialization of function, once
commenced, tends ever to become more decided. On the side of the
weapon-maker practice gives increased skill--increased superiority to
his products. On the side of his clients, cessation of practice entails
decreased skill. Thus the influences which determine this division of
labour grow stronger in both ways; and the incipient heterogeneity is,
on the average of cases, likely to become permanent for that generation
if no longer. This process not only differentiates the social mass into
two parts, the one monopolizing, or almost monopolizing, the performance
of a certain function, and the other losing the habit, and in some
measure the power, of performing that function; but it tends to initiate
other differentiations. The advance described implies the introduction
of barter,--the maker of weapons has, on each occasion, to be paid in
such other articles as he agrees to take in exchange. He will not
habitually take in exchange one kind of article, but many kinds. He does
not want mats only, or skins, or fishing-gear, but he wants all these,
and on each occasion will bargain for the particular things he most
needs. What follows? If among his fellows there exist any slight
differences of skill in the manufacture of these various things, as
there are almost sure to do, the weapon-maker will take from each one
the thing which that one excels in making: he will exchange for mats
with him whose mats are superior, and will bargain for the
fishing-gear of him who 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. And whether or not there ensue distinct differentiations of
other individuals into makers of particular articles, it is clear that
incipient differentiations take place throughout the tribe: the one
original cause produces not only the first dual effect, but a number of
secondary dual effects, like in kind, but minor in degree. This process,
of which traces may be seen among schoolboys, cannot well produce
lasting effects in an unsettled tribe; but where there grows up a fixed
and multiplying community, such differentiations become permanent, and
increase with each generation. The enhanced 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 but nascent. By increasing the
pressure on the means of subsistence, a larger population again augments
these results; seeing that each person is forced more and more to
confine himself to that which he can do best, and by which he can gain
most. Presently, under these same stimuli, new occupations arise.
Competing workers, ever aiming to produce improved articles,
occasionally discover better processes or raw materials. The
substitution of bronze for stone entails on him who first makes it a
great increase of demand; so that he or his successor eventually finds
all his time occupied in making the bronze for the articles he sells,
and is obliged to depute the fashioning of these articles to others;
and, eventually, the making of bronze, thus differentiated from a
pre-existing occupation, becomes an occupation by itself. But now mark
the ramified changes which follow this change. Bronze presently
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 them. Further, it affects the processes which
these utensils subserve, and the resulting products,--modifies
buildings, carvings, personal decorations. Yet again, it sets going
manufactures which were before impossible, from lack of a material fit
for the requisite implements. And all these changes react on the
people--increase their manipulative skill, their intelligence, their
comfort,--refine their habits and tastes. Thus the evolution of a
homogeneous society into a heterogeneous one, is clearly consequent on
the general principle, that many effects are produced by one cause.
Space permitting, we might show how the localization oL special
industries in special parts of a kingdom, as well as the minute
subdivision of labour in the making of each commodity, are similarly
determined. Or, turning to a somewhat different order of illustrations,
we might dwell on the multitudinous changes--material, intellectual,
moral,--caused 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 effects 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 railway system, has changed the face of the
country, the course of trade, and the habits of the people. Consider,
first, the complicated sets of changes that precede the making of every
railway--the provisional arrangements, the meetings, the registration,
the trial section, the parliamentary survey, the lithographed plans, the
books of reference, the local deposits and notices, the application to
Parliament, the passing Standing Orders Committee, the first, second,
and third readings: each of which brief heads indicates a multiplicity
of transactions, and the extra development of sundry occupations--as
those of engineers, surveyors, lithographers, parliamentary agents,
share-brokers; and the creation of sundry others--as those of
traffic-takers, reference-takers. Consider, next, the yet more marked
changes implied in railway construction--the cuttings, embankings,
tunnellings, diversions of roads; the building of bridges and stations,
the laying down of ballast, sleepers, and rails; the making of engines,
tenders, carriages, and waggons: which processes, acting on numerous
trades, increase the importation of timber, the quarrying of stone, the
manufacture of iron, the mining of coal, the burning of bricks;
institute a variety of special manufactures weekly advertised in the
_Railway Times_; and, finally, open the way to sundry new occupations,
as those of drivers, stokers, cleaners, plate-layers, &c., &c. And then
consider the changes, still more numerous and involved, which railways
in action produce on the community at large. Business agencies are
established where previously they would not have paid; goods are
obtained from remote wholesale houses instead of near retail ones; and
commodities are used which distance once rendered inaccessible. Again,
the diminished cost of carriage tends to specialize more than ever the
industries of different districts--to confine each manufacture to the
parts in which, from local advantages, it can be best carried on.
Further, the fall in freights, facilitating distribution, equalizes
prices, and also, on the average, lowers prices: thus bringing divers
articles within the means of those before unable to buy them, and so
increasing their comforts and improving their habits. At the same time
the practice of travelling is immensely extended. People who never
before dreamed of it, take trips to the sea; visit their distant
relations; make tours; and so we are benefited in body, feelings, and
ideas. The more prompt transmission of letters and of news produces
other marked changes--makes the pulse of the nation faster. Once more,
there arises a wide dissemination of cheap literature through railway
book-stalls, and of advertisements in railway carriages: both of them
aiding ulterior progress. And the countless changes here briefly
indicated are consequent on the invention of the locomotive engine. The
social organism has been rendered more heterogeneous in virtue of the
many new occupations introduced, and the many old ones further
specialized; prices of nearly all things in every place have been
altered; each trader has modified his way of doing business; and every
person has been affected in his actions, thoughts, emotions.
Illustrations to the same effect might be indefinitely accumulated, but
they are needless. The only further fact demanding notice, is, that we
here see still more clearly the truth before pointed out, that in
proportion 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 simple tribes to whom it was first
known, caoutchouc caused but few changes, among ourselves the changes
have been so many and varied that the history of them occupies a
volume.[5] Upon the small, homogeneous community inhabiting one of the
Hebrides, the electric telegraph would produce, were it used, scarcely
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 modifications, each of
which will be the parent of numerous future ones.
Space permitting, we could willingly have pursued 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 inorganic worlds
conform, is also conformed to by Language, the plastic arts, Music, &c.;
so might we here show that the cause which we have hitherto found to
determine progress holds in these cases also. Instances might be given
proving how, in Science, an advance of one division presently advances
other divisions--how Astronomy has been immensely forwarded by
discoveries in Optics, while other optical discoveries have initiated
Microscopic Anatomy, and greatly aided the growth of Physiology--how
Chemistry has indirectly increased our knowledge of Electricity,
Magnetism, Biology, Geology--how Electricity has reacted on Chemistry
and Magnetism, and has developed our views of Light and Heat. In
Literature the same truth might be exhibited in the manifold effects of
the primitive mystery-play, as originating the modern drama, which has
variously branched; or in the still multiplying forms of periodical
literature which have descended from the first newspaper, and which have
severally acted and reacted on other forms of literature and on each
other. The influence which a new school of Painting--as that of the
pre-Raphaelites--exercises upon other schools; the hints which all kinds
of pictorial art are deriving from Photography; the complex results of
new critical doctrines, as those of Mr. Ruskin, might severally be dwelt
upon as displaying the like multiplication of effects.
But we venture to think our case is already made out. The imperfections
of statement which brevity has necessitated, do not, we believe,
invalidate the propositions laid down. The qualifications here and there
demanded would not, if made, affect the inferences. Though, in tracing
the genesis of progress, we have frequently spoken of complex causes as
if they were simple ones; it still remains true that such causes are far
less complex than their results. Detailed criticisms do not affect our
main position. Endless facts go to show that every kind of progress is
from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous; and that it is so because
each change is followed by many changes. And it is significant that
where the facts are most accessible and abundant, there these truths are
most manifest.
However, to avoid committing ourselves to more than is yet 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
established, 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 towards greater heterogeneity. It
will be seen that as in each event of to-day, so from the beginning, the
decomposition of every expended force into several forces has been
perpetually 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 accident, not a thing within human
control, but a beneficent necessity.
* * * * *
A few words must be added on the ontological bearings of our argument.
Probably not a few will conclude that here is an attempted solution of
the great questions with which Philosophy in all ages has perplexed
itself. Let none thus deceive themselves. 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
inexplicableness of that which remains behind. Little as it seems to do
so, fearless inquiry tends continually to give a firmer basis to all
true Religion. The timid sectarian, obliged to abandon one by one the
superstitions bequeathed to him, and daily finding his cherished beliefs
more and more shaken, secretly fears that all things may some day be
explained; and has a corresponding dread of Science: thus evincing the
profoundest of all infidelity--the fear lest the truth be bad. On the
other hand, the sincere man of science, content to follow wherever the
evidence leads him, becomes by each new inquiry more profoundly
convinced that the Universe is an insoluble problem. Alike in the
external and the internal worlds, he sees himself in the midst of
ceaseless changes, of which he can discover neither beginning nor end.
If, tracing back the evolution of things, he allows himself to entertain
the hypothesis that all matter once existed in a diffused form, he finds
it impossible to conceive how this came to be so; and equally, if he
speculates on the future, he can assign no limit to the grand succession
of phenomena ever unfolding themselves before him. Similarly, if he
looks inward, he perceives that both terminations of the thread of
consciousness are beyond his grasp: he cannot remember when or how
consciousness commenced, and he cannot examine the consciousness at any
moment existing; for only a state of consciousness which is already past
can become the object of thought, and never one which is passing. When,
again, he turns from the succession of phenomena, external or internal,
to their essential nature, he is equally at fault. Though he may succeed
in resolving all properties of objects into manifestations of force, he
is not thereby enabled to conceive 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 sensations as the original materials out of which all thought is
woven, he is none the forwarder; for he cannot in the least comprehend
sensation. 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 understands that
which it is impossible for any man to understand. In all directions his
investigations eventually bring him face to face with the unknowable;
and he ever more clearly perceives it to be the unknowable. He learns at
once the greatness and the littleness of human intellect--its power in
dealing with all that comes within the range of experience; its
impotence in dealing with all that transcends experience. He feels more
vividly than any others can feel, the utter incomprehensibleness of the
simplest fact, considered in itself. He alone truly _sees_ that absolute
knowledge is impossible. He alone _knows_ that under all things there
lies an impenetrable mystery.