CHAPTER V.

PRODUCTION AND ITS LAW.

"Life," said Dr. Johnson, "has not many things better than this:"--"we

were," Boswell explains, "driving rapidly along in a post-chaise." But

what if the two men, congratulating themselves upon their speed, could

have read (with some approach to second-sight) Dr. Darwin's lines--

"Soon shall thy arm, unconquer'd steam! afar

Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car.

Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear

The flying chariot through the fields of air."

The slow barge now traverses the wide Atlantic as fast as even

fast-living America can desire. The rapid car whirls across England

in a few brief hours. With what half-envious astonishment, might Dr.

Johnson have computed the arrowy flight of these iron creations over

land or water;--with what sententious wisdom might he not have dilated

on the uncontrolled dissemination, Sir, of books, knowledge, and

civility;--to say nothing of vile whiggism or possible rebellion!

No wide-waving wings have as yet wafted us over rivers and mountains.

But some inventors still cherish a hope of applying steam steerage, and

perhaps steam propulsion, to very large balloons.

It is curious to think of the many centuries, during which men saw

elastic vapour lifting their kettle lids, without catching the idea of

steam power, or reflecting on the movement it produced. Curious, too,

to remember how slowly the idea grew, after the Marquis of Worcester

had explained the relation between the power and its movement-producing

function. His "fire-water-work" (as he called it), "drove up water by

fire," at a rate of 1250 lbs. through one foot, to the consumption of 1

lb. of coal. This is about 200 times the waste of a good modern engine.

But the _principle_ was there. Water flowed without intermission, at

a height of forty feet, driven only by the elastic force of steam.

The introduction of atmospheric pressure half obscured the original

conception; steam-power seemed in danger of losing its proper

functions. Passing by Papin and Savery,[182] the descent of Newcomen's

piston depended on the production of a vacuum beneath it; at much cost

of heat and labour, much waste of fuel and force. Strange, that for so

many years nobody thought of introducing steam-power above the piston,

as well as below it.

The retrograde path which science sometimes treads, is also clearly

shewn in the long-delayed invention of the paddlewheel steam-boat. The

first patent was taken out by Jonathan Hulls in 1736, and his rare

pamphlet may be seen at the British Museum, or in Mr. Partington's

reprint.[183] Strange, that so good a thing should have continued

so long neglected;--up to the days of the first Napoleon, and,

(fortunately perhaps for civilization,) under the Conqueror's imperial

rule. The same fate, however, befel Trevithick's "walking engine" made

in 1802. He applied high-pressure steam-power to a railway locomotive

which really travelled (1805) at Merthyr Tydvil. Every one knows how

slowly this invention has grown up into the useful goods-train or the

luxurious roll of the express.

The relation between a power so well tested, and propulsion, was

thus long in being fitted with perfect mechanism, and presented to

the eyes of mankind as a familiar every day phenomenon. But the idea

of propelling carriages by other means than animal sinews, had been

working the reverse way; and a desirable end suggested a search for

means. Men tried to fit other powers to the function; the problem

gave rise to wind-driven chariots, and other curious contrivances for

travelling by land, which are graphically described by Lovell Edgeworth

and several of his contemporaries. Then, too, came the desire to sail

against the wind, and independently of water currents. A vignette in

the first Edition of _Bewick's Birds_ (vol. 1, p. 257), published in

1797, shews us a ferry-boat crossing a river by means of a windmill

which turns paddle wheels.[184] The engraver has marked by a ripple at

the vessel's bows the strength and swiftness with which she stems the

stream.

The history of these machines carries with it a very useful moral. It

furnishes an apt similitude to the delays and retrogressions which are

found in the onward march of mankind, in the gains and triumphs of

civilization. These sometimes occur to nations through error, violence,

and wrong. Compulsory celibacy, forced upon the most cultured men, was,

according to Mr. Darwin, one cause why Spain, notwithstanding her great

generals, navigators, and inventors,[185] has been distanced by freer

nations. Then, too, as he adds, "the holy Inquisition selected with

extreme care the freest and boldest men in order to burn or imprison

them.--In Spain alone, some of the best men ... were eliminated during

three centuries at the rate of a thousand a year.[186] The streams of

both invention and human improvement resemble, in this respect, the

current of a mighty river. We always encounter--and always ought to

expect--whirlpools, back-waters, and other sinuosities, as we descend

the flowing tide.

Very frequently, civilization is retarded by another kind of

difficulty, also besetting the inventive arts. Like them, Progress

depends upon its capacity for happily realizing the relativity[al]

between Power and Function. The philanthropist sometimes,--the

craftsman often,--has only to think of the function required, and to

grasp a relation pre-existing in the laws of the natural world,--fit

it to its own purposes, and usefully employ the adaptation. This was

the case when elastic vapours of many kinds were examined relatively

to their power of producing movement. Each deeper investigation brings

a clearer insight into a more deeply-hidden law. The apprehension of

"Heat as a mode of Motion,"[am] is an instance in point.

Sometimes--in human affairs oftenest--the mind originates a new

relation between Power and Function, and launches it, like an

unimagined locomotive, whirling and dashing onwards throughout the

world of men. The will of a powerful king or conqueror, statesman

or missionary, evokes a new power; gives it life and motive energy,

and sends it out to perform its intended function amongst millions

of mankind, and for many generations. Hence, Kant said there were

two things which filled him with awe: one, the starry heavens,

that mightiest example of mighty powers orderly performing their

appropriate functions; the other, Man's Will, a power less mighty in

one sense, but belonging to a sphere where mass and measurement are

not, and performing functions signalized too frequently by wrongful

determination. Functions which, whether rightly or wrongly performed,

involve a mightier _Something_ than all the inorganic worlds ever

displayed, a _Something_ we define by that deepest of ideas and most

awful of truths,--Responsibility.

The whole subject admits of extensive illustration. The relativities

of Power and Function are infinitely varied in Nature, Art, and

Thought; in the unity of the whole world, and in the disunited world

of Humanity. But, however varied in their sphere of operation, all

relations between Power and Function coincide in one characteristic.

They appeal to mind alone, and by mind alone can be apprehended so

as to become operative. Those that belong to the _human_ sphere of

activity are in part the _perceptions_ of Mind; in part they are

evidenced to our consciousness as its own _creations_.

If we look at the inorganic world, Man apprehends such a relativity

as that between steam-power and propulsion, and applies it. In the

realm of pure mathematics, there are powers of another sort, which

(when applied) require allowances to be made in "_functioning_"

them. Provided metal, timber, friction, and cross-circumstances have

their proper margin given, those abstract entities,[187] absolute in

truth, become realized in practice. When we come to organization,

particularly higher organisms, the functions of the biological kingdom

are more complex. Yet the trainer of animals knows how to combine

and modify old powers so as to produce new ones. The pointer, the

greyhound, the racehorse, and the hunter are all examples. Then, too,

men manipulate men. See how the face of all Europe is covered with

training establishments of every description.[an] Youths are fitted

for army, navy, bar, parliament, politics. The powers of attention,

memory, habit, are all pressed into service, just as the inventor

of locomotives calculates the strength and tenacity of iron, brass,

copper, and other materials, fits each pipe, crank, and wheel, to

its intended function, and ends by speeding his fellows past the

doors of their fellow-men. Now, the manipulation of these materials

is a calculable process, and succeeds at last. But there is one

disappointment often awaiting the manipulator of mankind. His failure

arises from the fact that the moral purpose, which he must take for

granted, is very commonly wanting among those he undertakes to educate.

Another inventor of the highest sort, an artist, conceives a majestic

thought. It becomes to him the work of his life, the function he

ardently desires to realize. To the true Art-man, his conception is

a noble ideal, and some instinct, or proclivity of his own nature,

teaches him how to adapt it to the ears and eyes, the intellect and

feelings of his race. There are sounds which die in their newborn

sensations of delight, yet haunt the memory while consciousness

remains. There are colours appealing to one single organ of perception,

and, through it, penetrating the soul with images that rise again and

again in nightly and daily dreams. And there are words, the forms and

creations of our distinctive human mind, through which it exercises its

sublimest powers, and which are (in themselves) among the most sublime.

_They_ have their proper functions. Age after age, from country to

country, from nation to nation,[188] they have moved the souls of

readers to emotion, reasoning, will, activity. Noble words, expressing

ideas unknown to all intelligences below man, and called into existence

by him, prolong their own lives by extending his intellectual and

affective life. They burn like incense within the temple of his spirit,

but, unlike incense, survive undyingly in the immortal flame which

kindles them.

There is a still loftier and more solemn function we all exercise--or

ought to exercise--in or upon the sphere of our own souls. To us is

committed the task, our human task,--morally imperative on no sentient

beings inferior to ourselves,--of transforming and reforming, that is

(to all intents and purposes) _truly forming_ our own inward nature. We

have not, at present, to consider how near heaven may and does draw to

earth, in this highest of works known to us who dwell beneath the sky.

But the absolutely human part of it belongs to this place.

Every one has learned how hard it is to break through even one bad

habit. The evil has in most cases enchained body as well as mind. A

drunkard's hand is naturally reached out to lift the cups it has been

used to lift. His thirst, too, recurs at the accustomed hour;--and

the readers of "Elia" know something of what happens when it is left

unslaked. A tingling and straining of the palate is associated with the

sight of the eye; the drunkard's throat burns when he sees the draught

before him; his frustrated desire is followed by the most frightful

sufferings throughout his disorganized nervous system. The same is true

of other like habituations; as may be read in De Quincey's Opium Eater,

and in the last book of Charles Dickens, left behind him an unfinished

fragment. It is true, also, of countless smaller customs which prevent

many a man from achieving what Hooker calls "great masteries." Every

muscle, fibre, and organ of our frame, performs easily the functions

it has been used to perform, but undergoes a strain if put out of its

usual course.

The mind (as well as the body), has its laws of habit and association.

We perceive this fact most readily in the less perfect intelligence

of the animal kingdom, of untutored man, and of people who are more

inured to action than to reflection. The more rudimentary the mind,

the more real is its state of subservience to association and habit,

which may then be properly termed its governing laws. But it would be

improper to apply this word "governing" to the same laws in connection

with higher natures. In a man whose reason and will have attained their

manly majority, such laws have ceased to be governors;--their province

is simply administrative. Deposed from their rule over his existence,

they become his ministers, servants, instruments. There is, thus, a

compensatory constitution of human nature, whereby the light within us,

which lighteth every man, may be said to make us free.[189] It exempts

us, that is, from the sway of customary laws which guide and reduce to

subjection the merely animal intelligence.

A habit broken is a customary law broken. And any one who breaks

through a customary law already inwoven with the fibres of his own

life, is a man _par excellence_. And the deeper that inweaving,--the

greater the laceration of living fibres,--if he rends them in

obedience to duty, and because to do otherwise would be to do wrong,

the more truly and emphatically he is a _Man_. Again, if we proceed

to ask by what means he breaks the bonds of custom, the Manhood of

his act appears still more distinctly. His purpose may be, and often

is, accomplished by setting a higher law of his being over against

a lower;--putting a more really human power in movement to tame and

quell some animal propensity. But then, what is that secret strength

which apprehends and evokes the higher law? What is the central spring

that moves the strictly human power, and converts it from a sleeping

capacity for good, into an acting and living energy? Clearly, it is

the Man's truest humanity;--the endowment which makes him Man.

There are lives of men plainly told, and undoubted, where

_re_-formation,--that is _self_-formation,--appears like a flash of

electric fire. The Will in such men has energized, just as intellect

flashes out in its noblest condition of genius; and can best be

described by the poet or the seer who knows what it is to create, and

new create. These lives more than realize Cæsar's boast;--the truly

human soul came to itself,--saw itself,--and overcame. The conqueror

did a deed which, (truly done,) was done for ever, and yielded him the

presage of perpetual peace.

Histories of self-conquest do, however, remarkably differ in respect

of the _time_ employed upon the work. Some victories are, as we have

said, rapid and brilliant as the march of Alexander,--others slow

and embarrassed, like the weary path of a pilgrim through deserts of

rolling sand. But no pilgrim who is in earnest need despair. Putting

aside all consideration of supernatural aid, he may take courage from

the essential greatness of his own human being, when contrasted with

the being of all creatures below mankind.

The _comparison_ sets out from this question:--What can merely animal

nature do to raise itself? Man, we know, can train certain brutes--he

can entrap all;--but no brute can in any wise deliver himself from the

snare of a single appetite. The weakness, as well as the strength, of

animal intelligence lies in the vividness of its instincts. Animals

appear conscious of the working of powers within themselves; and they

apprehend those functions, with the performances of which their powers

are correlated. Hence, in part at least, the pleasure of a bird in

nest-building; a bee in storing her comb, or a predacious creature in

its successful pursuit of prey. But the relation between animal power

and function appears so nearly fixed, as to be hedged round by narrow

limits; and only in a _very_ small degree susceptible of modification.

So far as we can discover, the brute is deficient in the means of

self-education, for _three_ distinct reasons. _One_, because he cannot

escape fulfilling the normal functions of his unreasoning impulse. In

the _second_ place, because he is unable to overcome the urgency of

one innate power, by opposing to it the claims and vigour of another.

_Thirdly_, he can never introduce anything new into the relativity

between power and function. He can command no spring of high aim or

creative thought, which might give new purpose to his better powers,

or open out some further sphere of activity before unknown.--Were this

possible, he might lift the functions of his common life above their

old destinies, and above themselves.--And _this_ would be a work of

self-education.

To pursue our comparison,--we must remember that the ability for

self-education and the capacity for being educated, are correlatives;

and we may measure the one by the other. The animal world has never

shewn strength enough to raise itself very high;--it has never ceased

to be distinctly animal. But, has it ever possessed latent powers

for which opportunity was always wanting? Mankind, for their own

purposes, have (we know) continually been testing[ao] the endowments

of inferior creatures. How high, then, can man by his endeavours

raise the animal race?--He can generally train them to a greater

quickness in the exercise and nicety of their own instinctive powers,

and a more enduring performance of their instinctively presented

functions. By reward and punishment, he can inure them to some degree

of self-restraint; and he takes advantage of a thousand pretty impulses

and fondnesses of animal nature, to call into being attachment,--nay,

often passionate devotion,--towards himself. In this sense, Man has

been styled the God of his domestic brute--his horse, his dog, his

elephant. It would be a curious subject of reflection, to inquire what

effect might possibly be produced upon the _human_ mind by the visible

presence, and incessant influence, of beings, as much higher than

men, as men are higher than brutes? The moment we start this idea in

our minds, it is difficult to evade an impression that Man must be a

desolate creature, if he can never in some way see the Invisible.[ap]

To leave this curious point. Nothing appears more really conclusive

against all supposed capacity for _great_ development, than the

history of what are called "learned animals";--of the mechanical means

necessarily employed for teaching them, and the mechanical results

obtained. There is indeed no better word to describe the true state of

the case; than the term "mechanical," as opposed to everything that

is ideal, or truly creative.[aq] If a brute could idealize the laws

of outward nature,--or the laws connecting his own powers with their

proper functions, he might see them as a Man does, and give them a

fresh existence within his own intelligence. He would then be able to

invent an alphabet, conceive a picture, and view the properties of

outward objects as universals inwardly apprehended. In this way, he

would acquire exemption from the reign of mechanism, and live a really

creative life. Possible conceptions--ideal functions--would require

new powers to realize them;--and these powers would be searched for

and found. Or, _vice versâ_, an idealized power,--a power seen, (not

as it is, but as it may be)--would lead to the discovery of fresh

functions,--new fields of enterprise,--new realms of imagination.

It is manifest at a glance, how far in fact these conquests are from

the world of creatures, by us, therefore, called unreasoning. Art,

letters, and abstract thought, are no visitants of the animal sphere.

Words cannot come where thoughts are not; and therefore language, in

the _human_ meaning of language, is unknown to brutes.[190] And no

effort made by Man has ever been successful in sharing with his humble

companions any one--(much less all) of these attainments. His artistic

sense of Beauty, and power of giving it varied expression, find no

Echo beneath himself; he can in no wise teach by historical record,

poetry, abstract calculation, or abstract thought. Neither can he

impart the true secret of social sympathy,--and forbid the stricken

deer to weep and die alone. Intelligence without imagination, cannot

conceive a sorrow so lonely or unseen. Therefore, it knows little of

deep sorrow,--for even the mortally-wounded bird will strive to hide

its wound.[191]

Now, in each and all of these respects, every human being devoted to

self-education starts from the plain fact, that Man is _educable_:--

"Parents first season us,--then schoolmasters."

The master of many a middle-school has frequent occasion to say with

Horace;

----"At ingenium ingens

Inculto latet hoc sub corpore."--

And the schoolmaster, also, knows that a little spark will often light

into fire some vast store of emotional as well as intellectual elements

lying asleep within.[192]

We therefore speak (if we speak correctly), of educating an animal in a

totally different sense from educating a boy. For, facts are as we have

stated them, whatever theories may be.

There is _one_ more point of contrast to stimulate and encourage

the self-educating portion of Mankind; and this point is the most

characteristic endowment essential to Humanity. A man is not creative

by virtue of his ideals alone, however bright and beautiful those

visions of his intellect may be. He calls into existence that, which as

yet is not, by virtue of his Will. We know this, although inexplicable,

to be true;--partly from the evidence of our own Consciousness,--which

asserts that it is so, and partly from the evidence of Morality,--which

says that it must necessarily be so. Were it otherwise, no amount

of Criminality could make a Criminal responsible. And this truth of

responsibility is one which may occasion serious reflection to us all;

to some of us sad remembrances.

Man, considered as causal or creative mind, cannot but act upon the

world without, as well as the world within himself. And perhaps the

nearest idea we are able to form of the process of _production_, is

the _inter_-action of power and function, evoked by a Will, (that

is a Cause); and continuing operative by aid of ordinary laws and

relativities of nature.[ar] One man resolves to construct a steam

engine, and on steam-power he concentrates his thought. He conceives

the relation between watery vapour and propulsion;--and by using

arbitrary signs, formulates and measures it. Then, he considers the

laws and properties of metals, fits each contrivance into place and

produces his machine. _Another_ determines to commit a murder. He

wavers--debates--wills the deed, and says,--

"I am settled, and bend up

Each corporal agent to this terrible feat."

Every reader of Macbeth sees displayed before his eyes the airy dagger;

the human muscle strained to clutch the shadow first,--afterwards,

the reality;--the time, place, circumstances, all combined, followed

up--worked out, till the murderous man has chained all conditions of

success to his behest;--fulfilled his slowly-matured purpose,--and

become, as in Will, so in act, a murderer. A _third_ human being

endeavours to invent a method for teaching the deaf and dumb;--spends

a life in labouring among his silent tomb-like pupils, and succeeds to

his joy and their inestimable benefit at last. He awakens powers lost

in the shadow of death, and incites them to the performance of those

true and appropriate functions, from which they had been incapacitated

by a dwarfed and thwarted development. Before he aroused them, all

such powers were only possibilities, visible to his hopeful eye. Now,

they are utilized and happy activities; and, like impulses down a

long electric chain, perpetuate themselves for generations after the

benevolent inventor is taken from the race he had loved and educated.

There are _two_ features in which all these productive men resemble

each other. _One_, the creative influence of a purely human will,

which not only sees what is not as though it is,--but also determines

that it shall be. The _other_, a way of looking at, or rather, through

Nature, as something more than an assemblage of facts or phenomena;--of

penetrating to the _mind_ of Nature,--her ideal laws legible by the

intellectual eye of Man;--and finally, of putting each required law

into motion,--that is to say, converting an idea into a force, by the

movement of the producer's Will.

And the same is true of every useful producer, from the man who grows

corn and wine, to the politician by whose foresight is arranged a

treaty which gives Europe the blessing of half a century's peace. There

is, probably, no example of production more definite than the work of a

real statesman. A gifted human mind determines to pursue the thing that

is just and right and good; sees where the means to be utilized may be

found and enforced; touches the right spring of activity and power, and

leads his fellow-men into a path of precedent or constitution for which

ages may consecrate his memory.--But, let us suppose that he or any

other true producer falls short of realizing his idea. Then, the act of

Will would be in its _essence_ as noble a reality as the deed itself.

Yet the work intended,--the _production_ must needs be lost. Creative

will, as an efficient cause, would have moved within the moral sphere;

but beyond, and into the outside world of men and things, its activity

must have failed to penetrate.

When the case comes before us in this manner and is fairly weighed, we

see that the man who wills a good choice, reflects to his fellows the

image we are accustomed to call Divine. And that the man who produces

a good act reflects to his fellows the further likeness and idea of

a Creator. The will of man reflects a supreme will, when it refuses

the evil and chooses the good;--the creative energy of man reflects a

supreme energy, when it produces actual good; working and remaining

effectual in the world. These human reflections may be feeble shadows,

and far away from the Supreme;--as distant as earth and stars asunder,

but they are typical images nevertheless. Man, in whom the Theist

finds the impress of God, is by his power of Causality, as far raised

beyond the laws of material existence, as animal life and movement are

superior to the clods of soil on which the living creature walks, with

a consciousness of being exalted above what he treads upon.

If these far away reflections, so striking to a Theist, are, by an

unbeliever, pronounced insufficient proofs of Theism,--they remain

still of very great value to the argument--Who shall, in the teeth of

them, assert a reign of law in opposition to a reign of Causation,

when we perceive that Causality is the grand endowment underlying

the highest intelligence in this world, and distinguishing man from

every inferior creature? A large class of objections dies in the

fact that there is _known_ to us a power which can truly _originate_

actions;--a clear spring of volitional creativeness. And, as we have

already seen, it is this human power which endows us with the faculty

of self-education, and, at the same time, lays upon us the burden

of responsibility. It exempts Man from what would otherwise be an

iron chain of antecedents and consequents, linked together by mere

mechanical laws. Man, we are sure, may interpolate in this chain; he

may commence a new series within and over-riding it. The non-Theist

would (if consistent), describe such an act of will as a miracle.

Nevertheless, it is true to every-day life, and each guilty person,

justly condemned, is a living example of this truth.

Any reader who has been deterred from admitting the arguments for

Theism by the strength of objections apparently unanswerable, may

feel, if he will thoughtfully reperuse this chapter, that many very

formidable difficulties have melted away. He may also be inclined to

admit that, if _facts_ are to be considered the best grounds for

reasoning with probability from the known to the unknown, the facts

of nature, (including human nature,) make not against, but for,

the conclusions of Natural Theology. And they do so all the more

stringently, because they coincide with the higher and more spiritual

tendencies of Man's being,--with the beliefs and aspirations of the

most nobly endowed among his race.

Many readers will go further than this. They will perceive in the

constitution of our distinctive nature, and more particularly in the

movement of Volition, a really probable though far away similitude with

the producing Cause of all things. At all events they will say that

no other similitude or illustration has ever been conceived with so

much probability. To such minds the argument would appear sufficiently

convincing if shaped as a very wide application of the analogous

reasoning stated in our Chapter on Design. The limitations there laid

down should in this case be carefully observed; above all as regards

the _pivot_ on which such an argument must turn.

A larger class of readers may prefer to leave the field of this

inviting analogy untouched; and remain content with having noted its

resources in passing. They will thus prefer to pursue the more direct

line of thought already adopted, especially since it has the merit of

avoiding even the most shadowy apparent assumption of the principle

invidiously termed Anthropomorphism. We therefore continue to place

Man's causative nature side by side with external Force, and to set

the powers he exercises as an inventor, artist, and producer, over

against those natural powers we see elicited and brought to light by

his activities. This is the aspect of the world to which the Relativity

between Power and Function most obviously conducts us. Surveyed from

this aspect it becomes plain that Nature is not entirely a soulless

mechanism;--but that the Mind of Man finds something which corresponds

to his human Thought, and which answers the touch of his idealizing

impulse by implicitly obeying it. He is able, in this manner, to

distinguish Nature's Mind from Nature's raw material.

Most of us are so accustomed to look at the world _ab extrâ_, and

place ourselves in antithetical opposition to it, that we experience

a kind of embarrassment in changing our point of view, and considering

how much Nature and human nature correspond and harmonize together.

There is something strange to many persons, in the thought that _law_

is an _idea_ put into operation;[as] that, when we speak of the

dynamic agencies and living forces of nature, the dynamism is derived

from _intelligence_; the life springs from mind. This is one of the

puzzles and perplexities which hang a veil between God, who is pure

Reason, and this outside world. No doubt there is much that appears

dark and enigmatic in every attempted explanation of the subject.

Yet it is clear that, whatever our conception of matter and mind may

be, one of these two must be resolvably consequent upon the other;

and the efforts of physicists have been strained for many years to

diminish the distance between them. With these efforts, however, we

have nothing to do beyond very distinctly adducing them[at] in order

to shew where this particular difficulty really lies, and that it is

by no means a special question of Natural Theology. The point for

us, is rather to see how much we can discern respecting the action

of Mind _in_ and _upon_ Nature. To see, that is, how many facts the

realities of Production teach us. And throughout the whole realm of

Productiveness (commencing from the steam-engine and ending with human

self-formation), there is a certain sameness of procedure and of

principle transparently discernible. And this truth, fairly examined,

yields more than one kind of argument for Theism.

At the first blush of the subject, it is evident that the

scientific producer when he _begins_ to move, starts from the Causal

power of mind. He moves _through_ ideas or impulses of which he is

internally conscious, and which present to him a chosen aim to be

realized, a goal to be attained. It is equally evident that, when his

aim is to make or effect something external to himself, he _next_

proceeds to discover or accept one or more principles, existing _for

Mind alone_,[193] but operative in Nature. Such principles yield to his

reason the requisite proportionate relation of _Power_ employed, to

_Function_ designed. Upon this intelligent perception of intelligible

laws, he acts;--it works well, and succeeds;--and from this experience

of working and success, he finds for his productive _intelligence_ a

daily and hourly _verification_.

It is well to place this subject in various lights before reasoning

upon it. We may illustrate the relativities or laws, through which

Intelligence acts, by saying that they are to the fabric of the

world, what the motory nervous system is to a highly-developed living

organism. And, putting aside for a moment the intellectual agency of

man, and applying our similitude to illustrate natural production

alone, we may say that, just as the _mandatory nerves_ imply some

_volitional_ centre, so these _intelligent laws_ presuppose a _mind in

Nature_. And we may not only make this clearer, but also evidence it

more certainly, by pointing to the fact that amidst Nature's almost

infinite manifoldness, we see everywhere harmony, symmetry, order.

Forces, like lines of light, traverse the world, illuminating, (so to

speak), the moving scenes of its magnificent transparency. And the one

electric lamp that sends forth those illuminating rays, typifies the

Unity from which emanate all cosmical Forces, and which shines visibly

through them all.[au]

There is nothing imaginative or metaphysical involved in this

statement. It amounts to no more than what many very eminent physicists

lay down, as implicitly contained in their sciences. On _this very_

ground, Professor Baden Powell holds the validity of the argument

from Design, as was mentioned in a former chapter. He puts the case

into a few words thus:--"In the present state of knowledge, law and

order, physical causation and uniformity of action, are the elevated

manifestations of Divinity, creation and providence."[194] A few

passages further on, he repudiates with scorn the vulgar supposition

that physical science can be confined to the circle of outward

experience alone;[195] it includes within itself the principle of

directing intelligence. According to Comte himself, "un fait s'explique

par un fait d'un ordre supérieur, dont la perfection est sa raison,

dont l'action qu'elle renferme est sa cause."[196]

It does indeed seem as impossible to deny the existence and operation

of _Mind_ in Nature, as it is to deny the existence and consciousness

of our own minds. No tenable reason can ever be assigned why, when

we look forth into the world surrounding us, we should be able to

ascertain the fact of corporeal existence by means of our bodily

senses, and be, at the same time, unable to ascertain the fact of

existing intelligence by means of our mental intuitions. Each kind

of existence has its appropriate evidence, and _both_ sorts of

evidence claim our belief by appealing to the veracity of our human

consciousness.

If, therefore, it were possible to say with certitude "There is no

God," the certainty would not, because it _could_ not, eliminate

Mind from the Universe. The law of production exists in, and for the

Mind,--and so far as we can know, Mind in some shape or other works

through the intelligible law.[av] Suppose we frame a crucial case for

investigation.

Without speculating upon the first origin of things natural--without

taking into the inquiry any preconception of a Divine personality--let

us inquire what the world of Nature as it now exists can teach any

man respecting the _kind_, _degree_, or _condition_ of Mind, which

regulates and moulds it? We are obliged to say "moulds it";--for Nature

is not presented to us as an inert mass. We see movement, change, and

activity everywhere. And this fact makes a vast difference to the

present question.

Let us, then, suppose the inquirer setting out from an attempt to

conceive mind as immersed in matter; either being _identical_ with

it,[aw] or _pervading_ it, like a subtle fluid, or imponderable force.

Let some such conception be supposed his starting point. What sort of a

Power must he finally determine this mind to be?

Could he possibly commence with a mundane intelligence inferior to

the mind of Man?--The bee can build a cell, the beaver a dam--but

the bee cannot construct a dam, nor the beaver a cell. The same is

true universally. Animal intelligence acts in single right lines. We

should, therefore, be obliged to conceive as _many minds_ immanent in

nature, or as many modifications of mind, as there are varieties of

production. And if this were true, what would become of the order and

harmony of the Universe? We call it by that name, because we know that,

(notwithstanding its marvellous diversity and manifoldness,) it forms

a grand united whole. It would become necessary, _next_, to admit

a governing intelligence, able to control the countless species of

intelligent power employed in producing all sorts of effects. And it

really seems easier, at once to conceive a supreme Mind, framing its

ideas into intelligible laws, and launching the forces of the Universe

in moving might along them.

There are many obvious reasons why, after all, this would be the

easiest,[197] and _therefore_ the preferable, conception. _One_ lies in

the immeasurable width and extent of that relativity between power and

function, which we have seen to underlie every known production,--and

conceivable _possibility_ of ruling or moulding Nature. Now, under

_power_ we class forces such as those which hold corpuscles in

cohesion, balance the orbs of heaven, or control the growth of a

crystal. Such as those, again, which make Life the counterbalance

of dissolution and decay; and enable the animal frame to resist

decomposing influences; to feed, to grow, to energize, and move freely

on earth, in water, or in air. Such as those, finally, which yield us

the _pabulum_ of sensation, thought, emotion; and subserve our efforts

to attain whatever is highest or noblest in our human world.

We know what sorts of intelligence are required to apprehend, and to

do no more than apprehend, the rationale of many among these natural

movements, forces, and processes. Some of them can be explained only

by a very great mathematician, other some by an equally great chemist,

biologist, or psychologist. And in some, Man of the 19th century is

as much a _tyro_ and disciple,--as ignorant and as tentative--as his

forefathers were two thousand years ago. What a complexity of Minds, or

what a majestic supremacy of one Mind becomes thus discernible by the

eye of Reason! Of Reason we say, meaning thereby the reason of a human

being who looks facts in the face, puts them together and draws the

inevitable conclusion. Were this drawn, it would amount to something

very like a re-affirmation of Theism. At present, however, we will

not press these topics further; since our object is to put an opposite

conception on its complete trial, so as to see what is eventually

implied in it.

Suppose, for instance, a merely sensitive intelligence to represent

the character of mind administering the Universe. Conceive, if you

choose, the world to be like an animal as some old philosophies

conceived it. The way in which a _human_ being sees Power and Function

is altogether different from the way in which they would be viewed

by the supposed mundane intelligence. _We_ do not see them as two

entities _separately_ existing, and the relation which is of such

vital consequence to all inventors and producers, as _something_ which

ensues between them. To us, the causal essence of the Power lies in the

_relativity_ itself, and we often actually recognize the Power passing

over into its Function, and becoming lost in it. An example in point,

lies in the active combination of uncombined atoms and molecules;--the

_relativity_ (or, as in such a case it is termed, the _attraction_) is

the immediate cause of the production. "Thus" says Dr. Tyndall[198] "we

can get power out of oxygen and hydrogen by the act of their union,

but once they are combined, and once the motion consequent on their

combination has been expended, no further power can be got out of the

mutual attraction of oxygen and hydrogen. As dynamic agents they are

dead." We can, in this manner, produce from the combustion of coal,

light, heat, and propulsive force; but coal and oxygen are _consumed_

in the producing process. Yet in this process, _what and how much_

would have come within the grasp of a merely sensitive intelligence?

Simply the object coal,--the brilliant light,--the pleasant heat,--and

the actual movement of an incomprehensible machine. Let Mundane Mind

be thus conceived and Nature would necessarily be administered by an

intelligence which never got below the surface. The result, as we may

certainly perceive, must have always lain between either an unchanging

sameness, or the instability of chance misdirection. A state of things

which compared with our actual world would seem most unsatisfactory;

but which never has in fact been realized, for a reason at once

apparent to the reader's sagacity.

Take another instance of change. The chemical elements of a Galvanic

battery disappear in performing their function of causing a current,

and the current may in turn disappear in the decomposition of water.

But what merely sensitive intelligence could discern the invisible

agency,--or measure the conversion of force, where nothing is

visible except loss? Besides, in this latter example do we not see

how truly correlative these two terms Power and Function are? We

may intelligently think and speak of the chemical constituents of

the battery, as conjoint _Power_;--and of their accomplishing their

_Function_ in the Current. But we may also speak of the _current_

as a Power, accomplishing _its_ Function by evolving from water two

elementary gases. In other words, the ideas of Power and Function,

definite enough to the eye of reason, are in all other respects,

_fluent_. They are neither things, nor phenomenal attributes of things.

They _are_ power and function by virtue of a relation existing between

them, and this relation is a fact not of the bare impressible sense,

but of our purely reasoning intellect.

The same consequence appears, (in a shape which to some minds may be

easier,) from viewing in another light the very same example of a

galvanic battery, applied to decompose water. At each end of the chain

there are palpable materials, visible to corporeal sense. But, between

them runs the true force;--and this is absolutely impalpable. We

theorize upon this force, but, whatever our theories may be, we accept

its reality as a fact clear to our human _mind_. And we also clearly

see that no lower mind could possibly apprehend it.

And here arises a curious question well worth a brief consideration.

It is this:--To any kind of mind, the faculties of which are bound

up in sense, _what_ would appear to be the realities, and _what_ the

unrealities of the Universe? Galvanic wires or chains are perceptible

to our bodily senses, but the traversing force is imperceptible. Hence,

in our common speech, we are easily led to talk of the polar elements

or objects (whatever they are) as realities _par excellence_;--but

without in the least meaning to imply that the _nexus_ or relativity

between them is any less real; or less a fact. What we do mean, is,

that this reality is a fact to another, and a finer, faculty. But what

would it be if the finer faculty were wanting?--Reality would in that

case become phenomenal;--and phenomena (according to Dr. Whewell and

other inductive philosophers), would at the same time cease to be facts.

So far, therefore, as we know,--and we still limit this discussion to

what we really do know,--were Reason wanting, all the nobler part of

the Universe--its highest realities,--as understood by us, could not

be held real. They would fade like an insubstantial pageant--or the

baseless fabric of a dream. For, be it repeated,--_we_ do not see as

a merely sensitive mind must see. Principles and laws, sustaining and

administering the universal mechanism, are the visible realities of

intellect; and are visible to intellect alone. Thus, no one ever saw

the principle of the arch except by an act of intellectual sight, and

yet in the strength of it all arches stand firm. So, too, an architect

knows that the stability and beauty of his structure depend on much

that is hidden from the uninstructed human eye. What meaner eye, then,

could ever succeed in piercing the secret architecture of the Universe?

To the mundane mind, if less than human, the most real would become

unreal,--and the shadow appear to be the substance. No supposition

can possibly seem more absurd! Yet, when people speak of a "blind

intelligence" in Nature, they must mean something less than Reason by

that strange contradictory appellation.

The case for Unreason can never be improved by saying that 'The world,

as it exists, is a system of accordant forces; tending to fulfil

their functions through a kind of self-evolving movement, excited and

controlled by correlation and correspondence, action and interaction.

The products prevail, where they do prevail, through the completeness

of their harmony with their surroundings. By virtue of this acquired

excellence which becomes intrinsic, each finally develops itself

into a permanent and integrated unit.' Here, obviously, the question

of Intelligence recurs. If Mind were a necessary postulate before,

how much more stringent the necessity now! From hosts of uncounted

relativities we infer an Absolute;--surveying their rhythmical stir

and onward strivings what shall we predicate respecting it? The

world might have been a discord;--Whence came its first symphonious

movement?--its after-waves of sphere-music majestically sweet to

understanding ears;--its deeper and still deeper accordances;--

"The Diapason ending full in Man,"

that is to say, thus ending so far as the solemn march has been played

out! What shall be hereafter, we know not now. But most marvellous of

all as yet, is that first chord which struck the key-note of the whole

harmonious performance.[199]

It is evident that the answers to these inquiries, must have the effect

of infinitely elevating our own idea of the intelligence discoverable

in natural productions;--because they will add to our perception of its

wonderful insight, a still more wonderful impression of _fore_sight,--a

foresight extending over illimitable periods of time; and causing

effects, for the calculation of which no power of intellect actually

known to us, would have any adequate sufficiency.

The only apparent evasion of this consequence, is to deny arrangement

altogether. But, then, how great are the resulting difficulties! In

the _first_ place, it would seem at once to restore covertly, if not

openly, that very ancient Divine principle, Chance; whose banishment

has long been agreed upon by reflective men. In the _next_ place, it

is not clear how, looking at the scientific doctrine of Chances,[ax]

they would, when calculated, yield any probability whatever of

production;--or even (what appears a less thing), of development from a

rudimentary or less perfect structure already existing. The consequence

is, that one or more principles besides Chance must soon be postulated,

and "blind laws" are held insufficient because not unlikely to become

guilty of incidental misdirection. This need of auxiliary postulates

has determined some very staunch advocates of Evolution to maintain

that the circle of evolving laws or forces must certainly be ruled

by some Intelligence, either inherent and immanent (mind and movement

identical),--or else separate, transcendental, and probably personal,

superintending and superior to them all.[ay]

Indeed the affirmation of Mind in Nature as a positively perceived

Fact appears to be the sure direction of our human understanding, if

allowed to observe and judge in a common-sense way. And the reason of

the thing is obvious. Whenever we perceive anything by bodily vision

and touch, or other material instruments, we unhesitatingly attribute

to it a material existence. We derive our impression from a material

antecedent, and say _here_ is a corporeal substance,--in a word,--body.

So, on the other hand, whenever material instruments are dispensed

with, (because inadequate and unsuitable), and when Mind alone is

used as our medium of perception, we are quite sure that what we

perceive is not Body but Mind. In this manner, we know what to say of

arrangement, counterbalance, superior excellence, (which means superior

fitness), tendency to a function, (that is fitness in movement), or of

a system of relation and correlation transcending the highest flight

of human imagination. We say at once, _here_ is Mind. We do not think

it necessary to employ a periphrasis, and reason on the properties of

intelligence, any more than we should, when receiving information from

our senses, commence a syllogism on the properties of Matter. We simply

say in the two several cases,--here is body,--here is mind. And, as

regards both propositions, we are in all likelihood equally safe in

saying so.

The real question, therefore, remains just as we before stated it. We

then derived our statement from the process of production,--first by

analyzing it, and next, by shewing that the analysis was verified in

experience. We have since run some risk of repetition, in order to look

at the whole subject of Mind in Nature from various points of view. The

effect has been to confirm for us, the issue above raised as being the

right and true question. We must not ask, "Is there Mind in the natural

world?" but "What _kind_ and _degree_ of Intelligence do we, from our

observation of facts, attribute to the Mind evidenced in the Universe?"

It is in answering this question that the _fitnesses_ of organized

structures yield so many important considerations. We are not however

obliged to follow the chain of the Design argument, liken these

structures to objects of human art, and say, here is Design implying

a Designer. We may quite as easily look at them in the light of the

great productive Law we have been investigating. Fitness consists in

the nicety of the manner in which Function is correlated with Power.

Throughout the realm of organisms, vegetable and animal, the most

beautiful examples of such correlation meet us at every turn.[az] When

therefore we put our query, what character may here be ascribed to

the Mundane Intelligence, the reply cannot seem doubtful. Instances

of pre-eminent Fitness (such as those adduced further on) need not

be understood in any other sense than this, in order to accomplish

the purpose for which they are described. Neither need such words as

adaptation or design, used for brevity's sake, be taken as references

to the analogical argument discussed in our second Chapter. Mr.

Darwin himself has frequently employed the expressions "contrivance,"

"purpose," etc., without intending any such reference,--nay, rather

with the full intention of arguing for a different account of the

"contrivances" he specifies.

From such wonderful examples of Fitness, many minds will choose at

once to read the broad lesson of Teleology. Be it observed then that

if this is done, the larger the generality under which the principle

of Design is conceived, the better for its force in reasoning. As

an argument, the idea has suffered from the imagination of readers

dwelling upon the specialities recounted in many valuable books to

the exclusion of wider and more universal conceptions. There is a

vast difference,[ba] between the assertion of a grand Unity, (in

subservience to which all other things have their several determinate

purposes,) and the being able to say in _each_ smaller instance, here

is _the_ design or intended relation between this individual structure

or condition, and this sole and definite finality. A good specimen of

the difficulty thus occasioned, is an objection of Littré's against

the idea of Divinely beneficent adaptation. Why, he asks, should the

bite of a mad dog have been allowed to produce hydrophobia? Why,

that is, should the dog's saliva have been so _contrived_, as to

convey so virulent a blood poison? The true answer, of course, must

be that this effect is but _one_ operation of a much more extensive

physiological law;--a law producing results, often of the most

beneficial character. We must also, (as the same writer allows), draw

a strong distinction between every law, and what is technically termed

its "functioning."[200] Littré views Nature as a moving panorama of

antecedents and consequents;--but he is obliged to confess that the

_nexus_ is _not_ invariable. There are, indeed, variations, for which

he employs this same "functioning," as a kind of apology. The necessity

of such an apology is in itself a remarkable fact; since it shews how

little rigorous is the common argument used by many physicists against

the probability of Miracles. The necessity of natural sequence is,

after all, no adamantine fatality; and therefore Testimony to an event

contrary to our experience and expectation, may have a most decisive

value.[201]

We have already shewn that to see a law in Nature, is to see an actual

instance of _wide_ intelligence. Now, so seen, it is known as existing

_in rerum naturâ_--active--energizing--productive. But, suppose we

for a moment conceive the intelligible law, as existing only in the

intelligence itself,--a thought prior to its realization. The law is

_then_ what writers on natural history often call a _type_;--or, as it

is termed in the older philosophical language, an _idea_. The readers

of S. T. Coleridge will not easily forget his chapter reconciling the

Platonic and Baconian[bb] methods of Philosophy. It turns, in great

part, upon the essential identity of _idea_ with _law_. (_Friend_, Vol.

III. Essay ix.)

If, therefore, we perceive in anything creative, or any _system_

whatsoever, a harmony of power with function, we call it fitness,

or even adaptation when describing the actual matter of our own

_observations_. But, if we speak of the same harmony _as an act of

mind_, we call it intelligent adaptation. And, this at least, is what

careful writers on Natural Theology mean by the word Design. Yet,

certain careless objectors have misconceived the plain meaning, so far

as to assert that if we would speak of any production as designed,

it must first be proved not only intentional but _arbitrary_. This

misconception--(the very opposite of our meaning)--seems to turn upon

the mixture of two distinct notions,--the design of _reason_ and the

determination of _caprice_. If Natural Theologians wished to prove that

the Designer of the Universe was always doing wrong,--and was always

right _because_ he did wrong,--it would be necessary to argue that

design and caprice are one and the same thing. But Natural Theology

endeavours to shew the exact contradictory. Its idea is, above all

things, the Idea of a Sovereign Reason manifest in universal Law.

The rejoinder has been made that at all events a Will is implied in

Design;--and that he who wills acts arbitrarily. Of course, there is a

certain sense in which this may be true. A Sovereign will _could_ at

pleasure refuse the Right and choose the Wrong, but then it would cease

to be a Sovereign Reason. That is, it would cease to be Sovereign at

all, in any true Theology. And we may, likewise, add that the ordinary

instances and illustrations of Design never aim at proving Will

_directly_;--their immediate object is to shew Intelligence, foreseeing

ends or functions, and purposing their attainment. It is clear that

Will must _indirectly_ be implied in such an argument. But, then, it

is so implied, partly because all Reason is _per se_ identical with

Will, and partly because (as we shall endeavour to shew), Causation

necessarily emanates from Will. The reader must, however, assign each

conclusion to its proper argument, and keep each argument to its proper

conclusion;--a rule which those who dispute for victory, and not for

truth, frequently fail to observe.

The use we are now making of fitness and adaptation is less to prove

the existence of Mind in the Universe, than its grandeur, grasp, and

comprehensiveness. For this purpose our clearest evidence arises

from the _coincidence_ of several _diverse_ conditions, tending to

one sovereign finality of function. And indeed, this argument from

coincidence, is generally the most convincing;--the greater the

_convergence_ of separate conditions,--the stronger is our assurance

that Mind determined the result.[bc] Our sense of sight has always been

a favourite subject in Natural Theology. It is familiar, and, so far as

a broad outline of the function is concerned, may be easily studied by

any common-sense person. It is, also, evidently _one_ Function; yet,

even cursory observation shews a great diversity of powers contributing

to produce it. How diverse they are, may be perceived by supposing

first one and then another element of eyesight to be absent, and

considering what the effect of _each_ deficiency must be.

Suppose, there were no light. The eye then, however beautiful and

perfect in structure, would not be a means serving any purpose of

perception. It is clear thus that the eye is an optical instrument.

Suppose, again, light and optical arrangement both in existence, but,

also, that the eye had no power of _adjusting_ itself to the direction

of objects and other circumstances; evidently its function of vision

would be very much restricted.

In relation to this end, the eye is a mechanical[202] instrument.

We might, further, suppose the optical apparatus to work well, its

adjustment also to be perfect,--and the picture on the retina no less

so. But, with this perfect picture, suppose all ended. The function of

eyesight would be as irretrievably gone as in our first case.

This shews us that the eye does _not_ really see. It is the servant of

an impressible Power,--and this impressible power uses it, and sees

through it.

Suppose, finally, that the picture on the retina set vibratory nerves

in movement--each microscopic stroke producing its effect of vibration.

Let something be seen by the impressible Power, but not apprehended

as an object of _common_ perception. Let there be no comparison with

other sensations; no transcript into sense-language, of what is at

once seen, touched, heard, smelled, or tasted. Consider, how barren

and unproductive the result! Eyesight is reduced to a play of coloured

images. There can be no malleable material for Intelligence to work

up. Nothing to be cast into any universal mould;--no possibility of a

greedy Mind feeding eagerly through the quick perceiving eye.

In the absence of information given, or thought stimulated, we must

pronounce such sight unintelligent;--and the Eye an unintelligible

phenomenon. But why? The anatomical structure remains perfect. It is

the _adaptation_ that has been lost along with the finality, and this

loss is fatal. Hence the paramount importance of finality.

Any student may pursue this ruling idea of "_adaptation to a functional

end_," through a vast range of the Animal kingdom. There are eyes

fitted to long distances--almost telescopic;--eyes so contrived as

to be absolutely microscopical. Then, as the refraction of water

differs from that of air, the optical lenses of fishes become rounded

almost like little balls. And, the observer who passes into the

tribes of Invertebrata, will acquaint himself with eyes mounted

upon footstalks,[203] and eyes multiplied and placed in different

situations. Few natural objects are more wonderful than the contrivance

of a compound eye. The many hexagonal tubes, which may be reckoned

by the thousand, are cemented together on one expanded and swollen

nervous disk, reminding us of the thalamus in the great plant order

of Compositæ, (Syngenesia),--in the Elecampagne for instance, the

Bur Marigold, Thistle, and Centaurea. A compound eye has a range of

vision extending over about 180 degrees, (half a circle), and must from

its structure be endowed with specializing distinctness. Mind in the

Universe, is thus presented to us, as in the New Testament,--wide as

the whole arch of heaven, but cognizant of a sparrow or a lily.

A creature with diminished vision--such as the Mole--or the Amblyopsis,

is a curiously interesting study in itself;--still more so as an

example of adaptation.

In old times, the Mole was accounted blind. Aristotle[204] observed

that a structural eye exists, but that a skin is drawn over it, and

this skin deprives the animal of sight. His observation has made work

for commentators, from Simplicius downwards. Trendelenburg (on the

_De Anima_) confines himself to criticism. Torstrik makes a kind of

apology for not excising "_quæ loco_ [Greek: atopôtatôi] _de talpâ

dicuntur_." Cardinal Tolet accepts the observation, and thinks the

Mole's eyes thus admirably protected from the bad effects of a sudden

access of light, when he rushes violently into appearance overground.

Naturalists during many centuries, made the whole history of the mole

a piece of guesswork, and no creature except the Sloth or the Earwig

has ever been more generally misrepresented. Perhaps our familiar old

English "Moldwarp" (West of England "Want"), might have remained a

puzzle to this day had not a French courtier[205] fled from the Paris

Revolution, and devoted his attention to Moles. The fact that the eye

of our Western Mole is not completely closed, may be proved by throwing

a living specimen into a pond. But, in the South and East of Europe the

"blind mole" does really exist,[206] as has been shown by Erhard and

the Prince of Musignano. In more than one species, the skin passes over

the eyeball without any loss of hair.

This diminution of eyesight is a case of what has been called

"retrogression." Now the Mole is a highly developed Mammal, and his

position in the animal kingdom entitles him to the best of eyes. But,

they would not suit his habits. The same is true of the Blind-fish of

Kentucky (Amblyopsis Spelæus). For such a creature, not the distinct

vision of objects,--but a sensation of light,--was the _desirable_

possession,--and the creature has it.[207]

It does not in the least matter, as a question of Fitness, whether

this retrograde condition of the eye was brought about by natural laws

slowly acting upon the animal frame, or produced in some more rapid

way. The fitness is the same; and, as we are at present engaged, not on

proving the existence of Mind, but in illustrating the greatness of a

confessedly existing mind, these instances of far reaching adaptation

are very strongly in point.

Of the cavernous life and habits of the Amblyopsis there is not much

to be said; though the idea of a happy existence amidst depths of

sepulchral gloom, naturally excites our imagination. But "the little

gentleman in black" whose health used to be enthusiastically drunk a

century and a half ago, is a perfect study[208] in himself. We are

interested by his fairy-like gift of hearing (noted by Shakespeare);

his gluttony; his fleetness of foot; his combativeness; and his

castle-building! As a civil and military engineer, he far surpasses the

beaver, though dwelling in dark places, and with only a dubious pair of

eyes in his scheming quick-conceiving head.

Probably, the sense _we_ should all least wish to lose is our eyesight.

Its perpetual delight, and its capacity for improvement by training

are powerful motives for treasuring its possession. The savage and the

microscopist, the artist and the astronomer, all train their faculty

of vision; and how differently do these four classes of eyes see!--The

difference is, we know, in exact proportion to the intelligence which

employs and educates them. And, conversely, how the nobly-governed

eye informs and educates the Mind! What a world of hope, then, as

well as beauty, seems to die when we conceive the blind man in his

dim solitude! Yet the contentment of its sightless inmates, is one of

the most salient comforts of every blind asylum. Most likely, their

cheerfulness depends on the great use of finger-dexterity, and the

exquisite susceptibility of the ear. And these delicate endowments,

which make our several senses inlets of happiness, are amongst the most

fascinating illustrations of the Universal Mind with which we have to

do.

The structure of the ear is far less commonly dwelt upon by most

writers, than the structure of the eye. Indeed, its organization seems

to less certainty explained, the problem being, of course, to trace

the transmission of sound to the auditory nerve. But, as in ancient

Egypt, so in modern England, the treatment of disease in special

organs has been divided amongst special therapeutists; and the ear

does not fail to benefit by being better understood. There is, even

now, room for hypothesis in some parts of the process of sonorous

transmission,--and beyond that process, science does not pretend to

go. Modern views, however, as Dr. Tyndall truly says, "present the

phenomena in a connected and intelligible form, and should they be

doomed to displacement by a more correct or comprehensive theory,

it will assuredly be found that the wonder is not diminished by the

substitution of the truth." No one has put the wonder into a more

intelligible shape than this well known writer, at the close of his

book upon Sound.[209]

Employing instances of Design for the purpose, to us most relevant, and

gleaning a few among hosts of shining illustrations, there is nothing

more alluring than the spectacle of the organic world, considered as

a source, not of life only, nor of information only, but of emotional

pleasure and never failing enjoyment. No kind of existence can be

more depressing to our highly-strung human nervous-system, than the

shut up occupations which overgrown cities necessitate. Yet, with

what unrepressed vigour of delight does the artizan, the physician,

the schoolmaster, or the curate of a town parish, look upon the open

world beyond! And, never has there existed any human being more truly

impressible by Nature's loveliness, or more skilled in conveying the

impression to the minds of others, than a genuine British Naturalist.

For the holiday-maker to walk with such a lover of Nature through

field and forest, over moor and mountain, by rivulet, lake or sea,

is to gain a new sense of wonder and admiration;--new perceptions of

excellence, symmetry, and unity; while freshened emotions of religious

awe and trust keep springing upwards from them all. It is with outward

nature, as it is with individual natures; the regard of a loving eye

is the true revealer of hidden secrets. For in reality we see, not

only with our bodily sense and our contemplative reason, but also

with the strength and insight of affection. And thus many a weary Man

perpetually finds the aspect of the visible universe indescribably

soothing amidst his own confusions and disappointments. He may feel,

at times, that his human heart can penetrate beyond what eye and head

have taught him; and, while thoughtfully observing the footprints of

creative mind, he can feel within his bosom a sense of superhuman

tenderness, like the warm breath of his living Creator.

The very fact that highly-endowed and deeply thoughtful men[210]

have so felt and spoken, ought not to be without its influence.

There is much conveyed--very much indeed--by the truth that the world

is beautiful. If, when we examine natural production, intelligent

operation is seen to imply an operative intelligence, is it not also

true that realized beauty implies an ideal beauty, intelligently

preconceived in a Mind itself beautiful? Had there been nothing in

earth or sky to soothe, elevate, and make happy, with _what different

feelings_, should we have attempted to picture productive Mind at work

through an unlovely Universe!

ADDITIONAL NOTE.

ON THE DOCTRINE OF CHANCES APPLIED TO THE STRUCTURAL DEVELOPMENT OF THE

EYE.

The present Savilian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford wrote, in 1867,

as follows:--

"The chances of any accidental variation in such an instrument being

an _improvement_ are small indeed. Suppose, for instance, one of the

surfaces of the crystalline lens of the eye of a creature, possessing

a crystalline and cornea, to be accidentally altered, then I say,

that unless the form of the other surface is simultaneously altered,

_in one only way_ out of millions of possible ways, the eye would

not be optically _improved_. An alteration also in the two surfaces

of the crystalline lens, whether accidental or otherwise, would

involve a definite alteration in the form of the cornea, or in the

distance of its surface from the centre of the crystalline lens, in

order that the eye may be optically better. All these alterations

must be simultaneous and definite in amount, and these definite

amounts must coexist in obedience to an extremely complicated law.

To my apprehension then, that so complex an instrument as an eye

should undergo a succession of millions of _improvements_, by means

of a succession of millions of _accidental_ alterations, is not

less improbable, than if all the letters in the 'Origin of Species'

were placed in a box, and on being shaken and poured out millions

on millions of times, they should at last come out together in the

order in which they occur in that fascinating and, in general, highly

philosophical work.

"But my objections do not stop here. The improvement of an organ must

be an improvement relative to the new circumstances by which the organ

is surrounded. Suppose, then, that an eye is altered for the better

in relation to one set of circumstances under which it is placed.

By-and-bye there arise a second set of circumstances, and the eye is

again, by Natural Selection, altered and improved relatively to the

second set of circumstances. What is there to make the second set of

circumstances such that the second improvement (relative to them)

shall be an improvement or progress _in the direction_ of the ultimate

goal of the human eye? Why should not the second improvement be a

retrogression _away from_ the ultimate organ now possessed by man, and

necessary to his well-being? But all this suiting of the succession

of circumstances is to go on, not once or twice, but millions on

millions of times. If this be so, then not only must there be a

BIAS in the order of the succession of the circumstances,

or, at all events, in the vast outnumbering of the unfavourable

circumstances by the favourable, but so strong a bias, as to remove

the whole process from the accidental to the _intentional_. The _bias_

implies the existence of a Law, a Mind, a Will. The process becomes

one not of Natural Selection, but of _Selection by an Intelligent

Will_." _Analogies in the Progress of Nature and Grace_, (being the

Hulsean Lectures for 1867,) Appendix A, p. 125 seq. The whole article

should be carefully studied by the reader.

FOOTNOTES:

[180] Nov. Org. II. 4, last paragraph. "For a true and perfect rule of

operation then the direction will be _that it be certain, free, and

disposing or leading to action_. And this is the same thing with the

discovery of the true Form. For the Form of a nature is such, that

given the Form the nature infallibly follows. Therefore it is always

present when the nature is present, and universally implies it, and is

constantly inherent in it. Again, the Form is such, that if it be taken

away the nature infallibly vanishes. Therefore it is always absent when

the nature is absent, and implies its absence, and inheres in nothing

else."

[181] Sentence following immediately in N. O. II. 4. "Lastly, the

true Form is such that it deduces the given nature from some source

of being which is inherent in more natures, and which is better known

in the natural order of things than the Form itself. For a true and

perfect axiom of knowledge then the direction and precept will be,

_that another nature be discovered which is convertible with the given

nature, and yet is a limitation of a more general nature, as of a true

and real genus_. Now these two directions, the one active the other

contemplative, are one and the same thing; and what in operation is

most useful, that in knowledge is most true." _Ellis and Spedding_,

Vol. IV. pp. 121, 2.

[182] Savery was celebrated by Dr. Darwin as the man, who,--

"Bade with cold streams the quick expansion stop

And sank the immense of vapour to a drop."

Savery's patent (the first granted for a steam engine), is dated 1698.

Papin suggested in 1695 a partial vacuum under a piston for raising

water, so as to make the pressure of the air the moving power. Most

people are aware of the effect upon invention produced by the great

mining interest,--the necessity of pumping out underground _adits_,

water logged, and therefore inaccessible.

[183] At the end of his Lectures on the Steam Engine.

Hulls' was the first attempt to convert the reciprocating movement

of the piston-rod into rotation; and it does not rival the crank

in simplicity. But there is a contrivance for equalizing the first

irregular motion by weights, which possesses real beauty, and has the

further advantage of readily increasing or diminishing the velocity of

the wheels. The wheels themselves are fixed at some little distance

astern of his boat which he intends to be used for towing ships.

They are thus (as Professor Rigaud observes) nearer "to what may be

considered as the centre of the compound body, which they were the

means of propelling."

Such was the earliest patent; but proposals for the same object had

been made still earlier. Papin submitted one to the Royal Society in

1708, comprehending a "boat to be rowed with oars moved with heat," and

engines capable of throwing bullets and raising water. Sir Isaac Newton

reported on the invention and recommended experiments, but the Society

could not or would not grant a sum not exceeding £15 for the purpose.

Again, the Acta Eruditorum for 1690, preserves a previous proposal

made by Papin, accounts of which will be found in Farey's _Treatise on

the Steam Engine_, and Professor Rigaud's _Early Proposals for Steam

Navigation_. In the latter publication (a paper read to the Ashmolean

Society) is also contained (pp. 11-14) a summary of the most wonderful

among all records relating to this subject;--the trial of Blasco de

Garay's steam-boat at Barcelona under Charles V. "The experiment was

made the 17th June 1543 on board a vessel called the Trinidad, of 200

barrels burden, which had lately arrived with wheat from Colibre.

The vessel was seen at a given moment to move forward and turn about

at pleasure, without sail, or oar, or human agency, and without any

visible mechanism except a huge boiler of hot water, and a complicated

combination of wheels and paddles." The entire or partial credibility

of this record has been often argued _pro_ and _con_. Professor Rigaud

thinks it "not impossible that even a magnificent invention, like this,

may have sunk into oblivion." Perhaps not, considering that the Spain

of Cervantes is the Spain of Southey, and Mr. Borrow. A clock may stand

still, but a nation which does so is retrograde.

[184] The Chinese seeing our steam-ships at Chusan (in the war of 1841,

2), made paddlewheel vessels driven by men inside their hulls. Ignorant

of steam-power, they achieved an engine without its principle. So too

Prince Rupert gave a rotary motion to oars by horse-power, producing a

greater velocity than sixteen watermen could impart to the Royal barge.

[185] See second note on this chapter.

[186] Darwin's _Descent of Man_, I. p. 179. Mr. Darwin adds in a note

that "Sir C. Lyell had already (_Principles of Geology_, 1868. II. 489)

called attention, in a striking passage, to the evil influence of the

Holy Inquisition, in having lowered, through selection, the general

standard of intelligence in Europe."

[al] The term "relativity" is employed here on account of its breadth

and comprehensiveness, and because it does not imply the adoption

of some special hypothesis as to the essence of things or formative

principles themselves;--such theorizing being no necessary condition of

the present line of thought.

Let it be observed, however, that any law of the natural world by

virtue of which, the apprehended relativity becomes operative, must be

conceived as in its own nature _genetic_ or _causative_, in order to

explain Production. What is here meant may easily be understood by a

few common-sense reflections.

The word "Law" is one of the most ambiguous expressions possible.

Perhaps its most familiar use is in statistical science, where

it usually means the result gained from averages. For example,

birth-rates, death-rates, and rates of exchange are spoken of as laws

of increase, of mortality, and of the money market. Sometimes nothing

but the generalized fact is signified; sometimes it is intended to

imply that these formulæ govern, or ought to govern social questions,

or problems of political economy.

In like manner, when a law is the verbal embodiment of any principle,

it may be considered as a perfectly abstract proposition; or else

as a governing rule or maxim, under which definite and actual cases

can be brought. The principles of arithmetic or geometry are laws to

which every practical question involving number or measurement must be

submitted. The laws of thought govern our reasonings, or at least they

ought to do so.

Another way of looking at Law is to consider it in its commonest

origin--_i.e._, as the expression of a law-maker's will. But when a

writer on Natural Theology speaks of the laws of the physical world,

and then adds that "law implies a lawgiver," he either supposes himself

to have demonstrated the applicability of this maxim in relation to his

own science;--or if not he is simply assuming the whole question at

issue. [Compare _Additional Note_ B, to Chapter II. p. 98, _seq._]

The remaining most usual employment of the word, is to designate a

_Force_, some actual moving power tending to realize itself in some

way, working out a function either for good or evil, developing the

secret of its own existence by the effects which it produces.

Take an example from real life. A medical man coming to a certain rural

district, observed its high death-rate, traced it to the very great

prevalence of small-pox in the place, and formulated a law embodying

the results of several years _averages_ which appeared sufficiently

surprising. A further acquaintance with the habits of the neighbourhood

disclosed the fact that inoculation was continually practised, and as

continually kept secret on account of the penalties attached to it.

The inquirer took advantage of the opportunity afforded by a custom he

could not control to investigate its consequences. A few years later,

he arrived at exact conclusions determining the law of activity exerted

by the virus, under certain conditions. In other words, he found the

_genetic_ law of its operation.

Now, if the death-rate,--a piece of statistical law,--be contrasted

with this last named law of virus-growth, the difference between these

two formulæ is at once obvious. Without any scientific discussion or

refining, we grasp a broad common-sense distinction, which is all that

seems needed here. For our purpose, it would be useless to inquire

whether the law of virus-growth may be resolved into laws higher and

far more recondite still. An inventor seizing the useful law he wants,

will not stop to ask any such questions; he will apply his power and

realize the function he has in view at the moment.

Another common-sense instance is to think of the properties of any

familiar substance; the acridity of an alkali, for instance; its power

of effervescing with acids, and neutralizing them; its behaviour as

a reagent in a variety of ways, long to enumerate, but practically

useful. When we have described all these properties, have we defined

the whole substance? In other words, is the alkali anything more than

a bundle of properties momentarily known to us? Undoubtedly there is

one point more to be noticed; its principle of _permanence_, until

brought under new conditions which dissolve its unity, and destroy the

inter-coherence of its properties. Now whatever maintains this unity

is the law of its substance. There are laws of nature under which

both it and countless other substances are formed, continue, and are

dissolved, making way for unending series of fresh combinations. And

this mode of apprehending the unities we call substances, raises the

self-same idea of genetic law which has been under consideration. If we

are asked whether we can explain such laws further, we usually reply by

saying "these are the forces of the natural world." Their correlations

and modifications rule the kingdom of nature, and the great globe

itself;--nay, they wield the empire of the Universe!

Such laws, such forces, have engrossed the attention of physical

philosophers from the rude beginnings of inquiry. They have led to

speculations of all kinds;--the best known of which is the distinction

between Form and Matter in existing objects;--a distinction in common

use amongst persons who but dimly guess at the past issues which it

raises. Nothing, however, can be said on such a topic here, except by

way of reference to the philosophic system of Francis Bacon. [Compare

p. 92 _ante_, and the Synopsis prefixed to this chapter.]

[am] One of the most curious _morceaux_ in the history of Science,

is the fact that the nature of Heat has been several times thus

determined, viz., by Bacon, Locke, and Count Rumford. See Tyndall on

_Heat as a Mode of Motion_, Section II., and Appendix.

Bacon determines the nature of Heat by way of exemplifying "The

Investigation of Forms." It is his sole instance, and is most

instructive. (_Nov. Org._ II., 11 seq., in E. and S. Vol. IV., pp.

127-155.) "For example," he begins, "let the investigation be into

the Form of Heat." It need scarcely be observed that the twofold

relation of his "Forms" to Metaphysic and to Physic is one of the

least explained parts of Bacon's vast system. How little his theory

of Induction is commonly understood may be perceived by any skilled

reader of Macaulay's well known Essay--a composition (to borrow a great

schoolmaster's words) "displaying an almost inconceivable amount of

nescience."

[187] It is worth observation how often the abstract entity--(the

principle of the whole realization)--is forgotten even by scientific

persons. Forgotten, we say, since surely forgetfulness is the

true origin of many futile attempts at explaining away essential

principles. The following very curious case in point is narrated by

S. T. Coleridge:--"There is still preserved in the Royal Observatory

at Richmond the model of a bridge, constructed by the late justly

celebrated Mr. Atwood (at that time, however, in the decline of life),

in the confidence that he had explained the wonderful properties of

the arch as resulting from the compound action of simple wedges, or of

the rectilinear solids of which the material arch was composed; and

of which supposed discovery his model was to exhibit ocular proof.

Accordingly, he took a sufficient number of wedges of brass highly

polished. Arranging these at first on a skeleton arch of wood, he

then removed this scaffolding or support; and the bridge not only

stood firm, without any cement between the squares, but he could take

away any given portion of them, as a third or a half, and appending

a correspondent weight, at either side, the remaining part stood as

before. Our venerable sovereign, who is known to have had a particular

interest and pleasure in all works and discoveries of mechanic

science or ingenuity, looked at it for awhile stedfastly, and, as his

manner was, with quick and broken expressions of praise and courteous

approbation, in the form of answers to his own questions. At length

turning to the constructor, he said, 'But Mr. Atwood, you have presumed

the figure. You have put the arch first in this wooden skeleton. Can

you build a bridge of the same wedges in any other figure? A straight

bridge, or with two lines touching at the apex? If not, is it not

evident that the bits of brass derive their continuance in the present

position from the property of the arch, and not the arch from the

property of the wedge?' The objection was fatal, the justice of the

remark not to be resisted."--(_The Friend._ Vol. III., pp. 176, 7.)

_Addition._ Of "those abstract entities absolute in truth," Bacon

writes (_Nov. Org._ II. 9), "Let the investigation of Forms, which are

(in the eye of reason at least, and in their essential law) eternal

and immutable, constitute _Metaphysics_:" and again (Ibid. 15), "To

God, truly, the Giver and Architect of Forms, and it may be to the

angels and higher intelligences, it belongs to have an affirmative

knowledge of forms immediately, and from the first contemplation. But

this assuredly is more than man can do, to whom it is granted only to

proceed at first by negatives, and at last to end in affirmatives,

after exclusion has been exhausted." And of their utility, as applied

truths, he says (Ibid. 2), "Though in nature nothing really exists

beside individual bodies, performing pure individual acts according to

a fixed law, yet in philosophy this very law, and the investigation,

discovery, and explanation of it, is the foundation as well of

knowledge as of operation. And it is this law, with its clauses, that I

mean when I speak of _Forms_; a name which I the rather adopt because

it has grown into use and become familiar."

And these passages are in perfect harmony with Bacon's precept "that

Physic should handle that which supposeth in Nature only a being and

moving (and natural necessity), and Metaphysic should handle that which

supposeth further in nature a reason, understanding, and platform

(ideam)." (_Advancement._ II. E. and S. p. 353.) The reader will also

perceive how natural it was for Bacon to place mathematical science

"as a branch of metaphysic; for the subject of it being Quantity;

not Quantity indefinite, which is but a relative and belongeth to

_philosophia prima_ (as hath been said,) but Quantity determined or

proportionable; it appeareth to be one of the Essential Forms of

things; as that that is causative in nature of a number of effects; ...

and it is true also that of all other forms (as we understand forms)

it is the most abstracted and separable from matter, and therefore

most proper to metaphysic; which hath likewise been the cause why it

hath been better laboured and enquired than any of the other forms,

which are more immersed into matter. For it being the nature of the

mind of man (to the extreme prejudice of knowledge) to delight in the

spacious liberty of generalities, as in a champion region, and not in

the inclosures of particularity; the mathematics of all other knowledge

were the goodliest fields to satisfy that appetite." (Ibid. p. 359.)

Compare this _Essay_, p. 91 _ante_, together with foot-note.

[an] "Observe," writes the late Sir B. Brodie, "observe the effect

which the general diffusion of knowledge produces on society at large;

how it draws the different classes of it into more free communication

with each other; how its tendency is to make the laws more impartial,

bring even the most despotic governments under the influence of public

opinion, and show them that they have no real security except in the

good will of the people. Knowledge goes hand-in-hand with civilization.

It is necessary to the giving full effect to the precepts of the

Christian faith. It was from the want of it that Galileo was tortured

by the Inquisition, that Servetus was burned by Calvin, that the

Huguenots were persecuted and slaughtered by Louis XIV., and that in

numerous other instances one sect of Christians has conceived it to be

their duty to exterminate another. It is a misapplication of the term

civilization to apply it to any form of society in which ignorance

is the rule and knowledge the exception. If a Being of superior

intelligence were to look down from some higher sphere on our doings

here on the earth, is it to be supposed that he would regard the Duke

of Buckingham, dancing at the French Court, and scattering the pearls

with which his dress was ornamented, on the floor, as being really

superior to an Australian savage; or that he would see in the foreign

Prince, who at a later period exhibited himself at another Court with

his boots glittering with diamonds, any better emblem of civilization

than in the negro chief, who gratifies his vanity by strutting about in

the cast-off uniform of a general officer?" _Psychological Inquiries._