Having thus, by a comprehensive survey of the animal world, associated

its remarkable faculty of movement with the state of its blood, Hunter

turned his attention to another aspect of the question, and took into

consideration the movements of the vegetable world, in the hope that, by

comparing these two divisions of nature, he might detect some law, which,

being common to both, should unite into one study all the principles of

organic motion. Though he failed in this great undertaking, some of his

generalizations are very suggestive, and well illustrate the power and

grasp of his mind. Looking at the organic kingdom as a whole, he supposed

that its capacity of action, both in animals and in vegetables, was of

three kinds. The first kind, was the action of the individual upon the

materials it already possessed; and this gave rise to growth, secretion,

and other functions, in which the juice of the plant was equivalent to

the blood of the animal.[876] The second kind of action had for its

object to increase these materials; it was always excited by want, and

its result was, to nourish and preserve the individual.[877] The third

kind was entirely due to external causes, including the whole material

world, all the phenomena of which were a stimulus to some kind of

action.[878] By combining, in different ways, these different sources of

motion, and by studying every incitement to action, first, in reference

to one of the three great divisions just indicated, and, secondly, in

reference to the _power_ of action, as distinguished from the _quantity_

of action,[879] Hunter believed that some fundamental truths might be

obtained, if not by himself, at all events by his successors. For, he

thought that, though animals can do many things which plants cannot,

still, the immediate cause of action is in both cases the same.[880] In

animals, there is more variety of motion, but in plants there is more

real power. A horse is certainly far stronger than a man. Yet a small

vine cannot only support, but can raise, a column of fluid five times

higher than a horse can. Indeed, the power which a plant exercises of

holding a leaf erect during an entire day, without pause and without

fatigue, is an effort of astonishing vigour, and is one of many proofs,

that a principle of compensation is at work, so that the same energy

which, in the animal world, is weakened by being directed to many

objects, is, in the vegetable world, strengthened by being concentrated

on a few.[881]

[876] 'The natural salutary actions, arising from stimuli, take place

both in animals and vegetables, and may be divided into three

kinds. The first kind of action, or self-motion, is employed

simply in the economical operations, by which means the immediate

functions are carried on, and the necessary operations performed,

with the materials the animal or vegetable is in possession of,

such as growth, support, secretion, &c. The blood is disposed of

by the actions of the vessels, according to their specific

stimulus, producing all the above effects. The juices of a plant

are disposed of according to the different actions of the

sap-vessels, arising also from their specific stimulus, which is

different from that of blood-vessels, but equally produces growth;

but a vine will grow twenty feet in one summer, while a whale,

probably, does not grow so much in as many years.' _Croonian

Lectures on Muscular Motion_, in _Hunter's Works_, vol. iv.

p. 199.

[877] 'The second kind of action is in pursuit of external influence, and

arises from a compound of internal and external stimulus; it is

excited by the state of the animal or vegetable, which gives the

stimulus of want, and being completed by external stimulus,

produces the proper supplies of nourishment. It produces motions

of whole parts: thus we see the _Hedysarum gyrans_ moving its

lesser foliola. This is an action apparently similar to breathing

in animals, though, perhaps, it does not answer the same purpose;

yet there is an alternate motion in both.' _Croonian Lectures_, in

_Hunter's Works_, vol. iv. p. 200.

[878] 'The third kind of motion is from external stimulus, and consists

principally of the motion of whole parts, which is not

inconsiderable in vegetables, as in the _Dionæa muscipula_ and

_Mimosa pudica_ is very evident.' ... 'These actions are similar

to what arise in many animals from external stimulus.' _Ibid._

vol. iv. p. 201.

[879] 'I make a material difference between the power and the quantity of

action. Some motions may be very small, yet act with great force;

while others are of considerable extent, although very weak.'

_Ibid._ vol. iv. p. 204.

[880] 'The immediate cause of motion in all vegetables is most probably

the same, and it is probably the same in all animals; but how far

they are the same in both classes, has not yet been determined.

But I think it will appear, in the investigation of this subject,

that vegetables and animals have actions evidently common to both,

and that the causes of these actions are apparently the same in

both; and most probably there is not an action in the vegetable,

which does not correspond or belong to the animal, although the

mode of action in the parts may not be the same, or muscular, in

both.' _Croonian Lectures_, in _Hunter's Works_, vol. iv. p. 196.

Compare the section 'Of Motion in Vegetables,' in _Hunter's

Essays_, London, 1861, vol. i. p. 24.

[881] 'The variety of motions is greater in animals, and more purposes

are answered by them.' ... 'The first kind of action appears to be

stronger in its power, although less in quantity, in vegetables

than in animals; for a small vine was capable of sustaining, and

even of raising, a column of sap 43 feet high, while a horse's

heart was only capable of supporting a column of blood 8 feet 9

inches high; both of which columns must have been supported by the

action of the internal parts, for we must suppose the heart equal,

or nearly so, to the strength or action of the other parts of the

vascular system; and when we consider that the sap of the tallest

tree must be supported, and even raised from the root to the most

distant branches, it must appear that the power of such vegetables

far exceeds the power of any animal, and, indeed, it is such as

the texture of a vegetable only can support. The power of

supporting a leaf erect for a whole day is as great an effort of

action as that of the elevator palpebrarum muscle of the eye of an

animal.' _Hunter's Works_, vol. iv. pp. 203, 204. See also

_Hunter's Essays_, vol. i. p. 342: 'It is probable that the

vegetable which can the least bear a suspension of its actions,

can do so more than the animal which can bear it longest.'

In pursuing these speculations, which, amid much that is uncertain,

contain, I firmly believe, a large amount of important, though neglected,

truth, Hunter was led to consider how motion is produced by various

forces, such as magnetism, electricity, gravitation, and chemical

attraction.[882] This carried him into inorganic science, where, as he

clearly saw, the foundation of all organic science must be laid. Just as,

on the one hand, the human frame could never be successfully studied,

except by the aid of principles which had been collected from an

investigation of animals below man,[883] so, on the other hand, the laws

of those very animals must, he said, be approached through the laws of

common or inorganic matter.[884] He, therefore, aimed at nothing less

than to unite all the branches of physical science, taking them in the

order of their relative complexity, and proceeding from the simplest to

the most intricate. With this view, he examined the structure of the

mineral kingdom, and, by an extensive comparison of crystals, he sought

to generalize the principles of form, in the same way as, by a comparison

of animals, he sought to generalize the principles of function. And, in

doing this, he took into account, not only regular crystals, but also

irregular ones.[885] For, he knew that, in nature, nothing is really

irregular or disorderly; though our imperfect apprehension, or rather the

backwardness of our knowledge, prevents us from discerning the symmetry

of the universal scheme. The beauty of the plan, and the necessity of the

sequence, are not always perceptible. Hence, we are too apt to fancy that

the chain is broken, because we cannot see every link in it. From this

serious error, Hunter was saved by his genius, even more than by his

knowledge. Being satisfied that every thing which happens in the material

world, is so connected and bound up with its antecedents, as to be the

inevitable result of what had previously occurred, he looked with a true

philosophical eye at the strangest and most capricious shapes, because to

him they had a meaning and a necessary purpose. To him, they were neither

strange nor capricious. They were deviations from the natural course; but

it was a fundamental tenet of his philosophy, that nature, even in the

midst of her deviations, still retains her regularity.[886] Or, as he

elsewhere expresses it, deviation is, under certain circumstances, part

of the law of nature.[887]

[882] _Hunter's Works_, vol. iv. p. 255.

[883] In his _Principles of Surgery_, he says (_Hunter's Works_, vol. i.

p. 220), 'The human body is what I mean chiefly to treat of; but I

shall often find it necessary to illustrate some of the

propositions which I shall lay down from animals of an inferior

order, in whom the principles may be more distinct and less

blended with others, or where the parts are differently

constructed, in order to show, from many varieties of structure,

and from many different considerations, what are the uses of the

same parts in man; or, at least, to show that they are not for the

uses which have been commonly assigned to them; and, as man is the

most complicated part of the whole animal creation, it will be

proper, in the first place, to point out general principles,

common to all this species of matter, that I may be better

understood when I come to the more complicated machine, namely,

the human.'

[884] 'Before we endeavour to give an idea of an animal, it is necessary

to understand the properties of that matter of which an animal is

composed; but the better to understand animal matter, it is

necessary to understand the properties of common matter; else we

shall be often applying our ideas of common matter, which are

familiar to us, to animal matter, an error hitherto too common,

but which we should carefully avoid.' _Principles of Surgery_, in

_Hunter's Works_, vol. i. p. 211. 'In the natural history of

vegetables and animals, therefore, it will be necessary to go back

to the first or common matter of this globe, and give its general

properties; then see how far these properties are introduced into

the vegetable and animal operations; or rather, perhaps, how far

they are of use or subservient to their actions.' _Hunter's

Essays_, vol. i. p. 4. 'Every property in man is similar to some

property, either in another animal, or probably in a vegetable, or

even in inanimate matter. Thereby (man) becomes classible with

those in some of his parts.' _Ibid._ p. 10.

[885] He made 'a valuable collection of crystallizations, both of

regular and irregular forms, which he was accustomed to use in his

lectures to exemplify the difference between the laws which

regulate the growth of organic and the increase of inorganic

bodies.' _Ottley's Life of Hunter_, p. 138.

[886] 'Nature is always uniform in her operations, and when she deviates

is still regular in her deviations.' _Principles of Surgery_, in

_Hunter's Works_, vol. i. p. 485; see also vol. iv. pp. 44, 45.

[887] 'It certainly may be laid down, as one of the principles or laws

of nature, to deviate under certain circumstances.' _Hunter's

Works_, vol. iv. p. 278.

To generalize such irregularities, or, in other words, to show that they

are not irregularities at all, was the main object of Hunter's life, and

was the noblest part of his mission. Hence, notwithstanding his vast

achievements in physiology, his favourite pursuit was pathology,[888]

where, the phenomena being more complex, the intellect has more play. In

this great field, he studied the aberrations of structure and of

function, in the vegetable, as well as in the animal, world;[889] while,

for the aberrations of form, which are the external manifestations of

disturbed structure, he took into consideration the appearances presented

by the mineral kingdom. There, the power of crystallization is the

leading feature, and there, violations of symmetry constitute the

essential disorder, whether the deformity of the crystal is subsequent to

its production, or whether, being the result of what happened before its

production, it is an original, and, if we may so say, congenital, defect.

In either case, it is a deviation from the normal type, and, as such, is

analogous to the monstrosities, both of animals and of vegetables.[890]

The mind of Hunter, by sweeping through this immense range of thought,

attained to such commanding views of the philosophy of disease, that, in

that department, he is certainly without a rival. As a physiologist, he

was equalled, or perhaps excelled, by Aristotle; but as a pathologist, he

stands alone, if we consider what pathology was when he found it, and

what it was when he left it.[891] Since his death, the rapid advance of

morbid anatomy and of chemistry has caused some of his doctrines to be

modified, and some of them to be overturned. This has been the work of

inferior men, wielding superior chemical and microscopical resources. To

say that the successors of John Hunter are inferior to him, is no

disparagement to their abilities, since he was one of those extremely

rare characters who only appear at very long intervals, and who, when

they do appear, remodel the fabric of knowledge. They revolutionize our

modes of thought; they stir up the intellect to insurrection; they are

the rebels and demagogues of science. And though the pathologists of the

nineteenth century have chosen a humbler path, this must not blind us to

their merits, or prevent us from being grateful for what they have done.

We cannot, however, be too often reminded, that the really great men, and

those who are the sole permanent benefactors of their species, are not

the great experimenters, nor the great observers, nor the great readers,

nor the great scholars, but the great thinkers. Thought is the creator

and vivifier of all human affairs. Actions, facts, and external

manifestations of every kind, often triumph for a while; but it is the

progress of ideas which ultimately determines the progress of the world.

Unless these are changed, every other change is superficial, and every

improvement is precarious. It is, however, evident that, in the present

state of our knowledge, all ideas respecting nature must refer either to

the normal or to the abnormal; that is to say, they must be concerned

either with what is regular, uniform, and obedient to recognized

principles, or else with what is irregular, perturbed, and disobedient.

Of these two divisions, the first belongs to science; the second, to

superstition. John Hunter formed the superb conception of merging both

classes of ideas into one, by showing that nothing is irregular, that

nothing is perturbed, that nothing is disobedient. Centuries, perhaps,

may elapse before that conception will be consummated. But what Hunter

effected towards it, places him at the head of all pathologists, ancient

or modern. For, with him, the science of pathology did not mean the laws

of disease in man alone, or even in all animals, or even in the whole

organic kingdom; but it meant the laws of disease and of malformation in

the entire material world, organic and inorganic. His great object was,

to raise a science of the abnormal. He determined to contemplate nature

as a vast and united whole, exhibiting, indeed, at different times

different appearances, but preserving, amidst every change, a principle

of uniform and uninterrupted order, admitting of no deviation, undergoing

no disturbance, and presenting no real irregularity, albeit to the common

eye, irregularities abound on every side.

[888] Dr. Adams, who knew him personally, says that he studied

'physiology, more particularly as connected with pathology.'

_Adams' Life of Hunter_, p. 77.

[889] His _Principles of Surgery_ contain some curious evidence of his

desire to establish a connexion between animal and vegetable

pathology. See, for instance, his remarks on 'local diseases'

(_Works_, vol. i. p. 341); on the influence of the seasons in

producing diseases (vol. i. pp. 345, 346); and on the theory of

inflammation exhibited in an oak-leaf (vol. i. p. 391). But even

now, too little is known of the diseases of the vegetable world to

enable their study to be incorporated with the science of the

diseases of the animal world; and, in the time of Hunter, the

attempt was still less promising. Still, the effort shows the

grandeur and range of the man's mind; and though little was

effected, the method was right. So, too, in one of his essays on

the _Power of Producing Heat_, he says, 'In the course of a

variety of experiments on animals and vegetables, I have

frequently observed that the result of experiments in the one has

explained the economy of the other, and pointed out some principle

common to both.' _Hunter's Works_, vol. iv. p. 136.

[890] 'Nature being pretty constant in the kind and number of the

different parts peculiar to each species of animal, as also in the

situation, formation, and construction of such parts, we call

every thing that deviates from that uniformity a "monster,"

whether (it occur in) crystallization, vegetation, or

animalization. There must be some principle for those deviations

from the regular course of nature, in the economy of such species

as they occur in. In the present inquiry it is the animal creation

I mean to consider. Yet, as there may be in some degree an analogy

between all the three (kingdoms of nature), I shall consider the

other two, so far as this analogy seems to take place.' ...

'Monsters are not peculiar to animals: they are less so in them,

perhaps, than in any species of matter. The vegetable (kingdom)

abounds with monsters; and perhaps the uncommon formation of many

crystals may be brought within the same species of production, and

accounted for upon the same principle, viz. some influence

interfering with the established law of regular formation.

Monsters in crystals may arise from the same cause, as mentioned

in the "Introduction;" viz. either a wrong arrangement of the

parts of which the crystal is to be composed, or a defect in the

formation, from the first setting out being wrong, and (the

formation) going on in the same (wrong) line. The principle of

crystallization is in the solution; yet it requires more to set it

agoing, or into action, such, _e.g._, as a solid surface. The

deficiency in the production of a true crystal may be in the

solution itself; or, I can conceive, that a very slight

circumstance might alter the form of a crystal, and even give the

disposition for one (crystal) to form upon another. Quickness in

the progress of crystallization produces irregularity and

diminution in size.' _Hunter's Essays_, London, 1861, vol. i.

pp. 239-241. The reader must remember, that, when these remarks

were written, the phenomena of crystallization had not been

subjected to that exact mathematical treatment which subsequently

revealed so many of their laws. Indeed, the goniometer was then so

coarse an instrument, that it was impossible to measure the angles

of crystals with accuracy.

[891] Abernethy says, 'He appears to me as a new character in our

profession; and, briefly to express his peculiar merit, I may call

him the first and great physionosologist, or expositor of the

nature of disease.' _Abernethy's Hunterian Oration_, p. 29,

London, 1819. 'He may be regarded as the first who applied the

great truths of anatomical and physiological science to these most

important subjects, by tracing the processes which nature employs

in the construction of organic changes, in building up new

formations, and in repairing the effects of injury or disease.'

_Hodgson's Hunterian Oration_, 1855, p. 32.

As pathology was the science to which Hunter was most devoted, so also

was it that in which his natural love of deduction was most apparent.

Here, far more than in his physiological inquiries, do we find a desire

to multiply original principles from which he could reason; in opposition

to the inductive method, which always aims at diminishing these

principles by gradual and successive analysis. Thus, for instance, in

his animal pathology, he attempted to introduce, as an ultimate principle

from which he could argue, the idea that all diseases move more rapidly

towards the skin than towards internal parts, by virtue of some hidden

force, which also obliges vegetables to approach the surface of the

earth.[892] Another favourite proposition, which he often used as a major

premiss, and by its aid constructed deductively a pathological argument,

was, that in no substance, be it what it may, can two processes go on in

the same part at the same time.[893] By applying this universal

proposition to the more limited phenomena of animal life, he inferred

that two general diseases cannot co-exist in the same individual; and he

relied so much on this ratiocination, that he refused to credit any

testimony by which it was impugned.[894] There is reason to believe that

his conclusion is erroneous, and that different diseases can so accompany

each other, as to be united in the same individual, at the same time, and

in the same part.[895] Whether or not this be the case, it is equally

interesting to notice the process of thought which led Hunter to bestow

infinitely more pains in arguing from the general theory, than in arguing

to it. Indeed, he can hardly be said to have argued to it at all, since

he obtained it by a rough and hasty generalization from what seemed to be

the obvious properties of inorganic matter. Having thus obtained it, he

applied it to the pathological phenomena of the organic world, and

especially of the animal world. That he should have adopted this course,

is a curious proof of the energy of his deductive habits, and of the

force of mind which enabled him so to set at naught the traditions of his

English contemporaries, as to follow a method which, in the opinion of

every one who surrounded him, was not only full of danger, but could

never lead to truth.

[892] 'The specific qualities in diseases also tend more rapidly to the

skin than to the deeper-seated parts, except the cancer; although,

even in this disease, the progress towards the superficies is more

quick than its progress towards the centre.' ... 'In short, this

is a law of nature, and it probably is upon the same principle by

which vegetables always approach the surface of the earth.' _A

Treatise on the Blood, Inflammation, and Gunshot Wounds_, in

_Hunter's Works_, vol. iii. p. 285. 'Granulations always tend to

the skin, which is exactly similar to vegetation, for plants

always grow from the centre of the earth towards the surface; and

this principle was taken notice of when we were treating of

abscesses coming towards the skin.' _Ibid._ pp. 489, 490.

[893] 'It may be admitted as an axiom, that two processes cannot go on

at the same time in the same part of any substance.' _Hunter's

Works_, vol. iv. p. 96. Compare _Hunter's Essays_, vol. ii. p.

333: 'As it appears, in general, that Nature can hardly make one

part perform two actions with advantage.'

[894] 'Thus, we hear of pocky itch and of scurvy and the venereal

disease combined; but this supposition appears to me to be founded

in error. I have never seen any such cases, _nor do they seem to

be consistent with the principles of morbid action_ in the animal

economy. It appears to me beyond a doubt that no two actions can

take place in the same constitution, or in the same part, at one

and the same time.' _Hunter's Works_, vol. ii. p. 132. 'As I

reckon every operation in the body an action, whether universal or

partial, _it appears to me beyond a doubt_ that no two actions can

take place in the same constitution, nor in the same part, at one

and the same time; the operations of the body are similar in this

respect to actions or motions in common matter. _It naturally

results from this principle_, that no two different fevers can

exist in the same constitution, nor two local diseases in the same

part, at the same time. There are many local diseases which have

dispositions totally different, but having very similar

appearances, have been supposed by some to be one sort of disease,

by others to be a different kind, and by others again a compound

of two diseases.' ... 'These, therefore, are often supposed to be

mixed, and to exist in the same part. Thus we hear of a

pocky-scurvy, a pocky-itch, rheumatic-gout, &c. &c., which names,

_according to my principle_, imply a union that cannot possibly

exist.' _Ibid._ vol. iii. pp. 3, 4.

[895] Dr. Robert Williams (_Encyclopædia of the Medical Sciences_,

London, 1847, 4to, p. 688) says, 'The diagnosis between gout and

rheumatism is often exceedingly difficult, so much so that

nosologists have given a mixed class, or rheumatic gout. Mr.

Hunter warmly opposed this compound appellation, for, in his

opinion, no two distinct diseases, or even distinct diatheses, can

co-exist in the same constitution; a law, it must be admitted, to

have many exceptions.' Compare _Watson's Principles and Practice

of Physic_, London, 1857, vol. i. p. 312; 'acting upon the

aphorism of John Hunter (an aphorism, however, which requires some

qualification), that two diseases or actions cannot go on in a

part at the same time.' According to another authority, 'There can

be little doubt that two or more zymotic processes do often go on

simultaneously in the blood and body; a fact of profound interest

to the pathologist, and worthy of attentive investigation.'

_Report on the Public Health for 1847_, in _Journal of the

Statistical Society_, vol. xi. p. 168, London, 1848. See also, on

the co-existence of specific poisons, _Erichsen's Surgery_, 2nd

edit., London, 1857, p. 430. Mr. Paget, in his striking and

eminently suggestive _Lectures on Pathology_, London, 1853, vol.

ii. pp. 537, 538, has made some interesting remarks on one part of

the theory of co-existence; and his observations, so far as they

go, tend to corroborate Hunter's view. He has put very forcibly

the antagonism between cancer and other specific diseases; and

especially between the cancerous diathesis and the tuberculous.

Other parts of his pathology abound with similar instances, which show

how anxious he was to assume principles on which he could build

arguments. Of this kind were his ideas respecting sympathy, as connected

with action. He suggested, that the simplest forms of sympathy would

probably be found in the vegetable world, because there, the general

arrangements are less intricate than in the animal world.[896] On this

supposition, he constructed a series of curious and refined speculations,

of which, however, I must confine myself to giving a very short summary.

As animals sympathize more than vegetables, this helps us to understand

why it is that their movements are more numerous. For, sympathy, being a

susceptibility to impression, is also a principle of action.[897] Like

other principles of action, it may be either natural or diseased.[898]

But, whichever it be, it can, in plants, have only one mode of

development, because, in them, it can only be influenced by stimulus;

while in animals, which have sensation, it has necessarily three modes,

one from stimulus, one from sensation, and a third compounded of the

other two.[899] These are the largest divisions of sympathy, if we

consider the organic world as a whole. In single cases, however, sympathy

admits of still further subdivision. We may reason from it, in reference

to the age of the individual;[900] we may also reason from it in

reference to temperament, since, in point of fact, temperament is nothing

but susceptibility to action.[901] And when sympathy is in action, we

may, by analyzing our idea of it, reduce it to five different heads, and

may classify it as continued, or contiguous, or remote, or similar, or

dissimilar.[902] All these supplied Hunter with principles from which, by

reasoning deductively, he attempted to explain the facts of disease; for,

according to him, disease merely consists in a want of combination of

actions.[903] By this process of thought, he was induced to neglect

those predisposing causes, to which inductive pathologists pay great

attention, and with which the works of his English contemporaries were

much occupied. Such causes could only be generalized from observation,

and Hunter made no account of them. Indeed, he even denies their real

existence, and asserts that a predisposing cause is simply an increased

susceptibility to form disposition to action.[904]

[896] 'The most simple sympathy is perhaps to be found in vegetables,

these being much more simple than the most simple animal.'

_Principles of Surgery_, in _Hunter's Works_, vol. i. p. 327.

[897] 'This principle of action, called sympathy,' &c. _Ibid._ vol. i.

p. 318.

[898] 'Sympathy may be divided into two kinds, the natural and the

diseased.' _Principles of Surgery_, in _Hunter's Works_, vol. i.

p. 320; see also _A Treatise on the Blood, Inflammation, &c._, in

_Works_, vol. iii. p. 6.

[899] _Croonian Lectures on Muscular Motion_, in _Hunter's Works_,

vol. iv. p. 207; and exactly the same words in his _Phytology_, in

_Hunter's Essays_, London, 1861, vol. i. p. 361.

[900] 'Local or partial sympathy is found more in old than in young;

whereas universal sympathy is more in young than in old. Sympathy

is less determined in young persons, every part being then ready

to sympathize with other parts under disease.' ... 'As the child

advances, the power of sympathy becomes partial, there not being

now, in the constitution, that universal consent of parts, but

some part, which has greater sympathy than the rest, falls into

the whole irritation; therefore the whole disposition to sympathy

is directed to some particular part. The different organs acquire

more and more of their own independent actions as the child grows

older.' _Hunter's Works_, vol. i. pp. 322, 323.

[901] 'Susceptibilities for dispositions and actions appear to me to be

the same with what are usually understood by temperament.

Temperament is the state of the body fitting it for the

disposition or action it is then in.' _Hunter's Works_, vol. i.

p. 307.

[902] _Hunter's Works_, vol. iii. p. 393.

[903] 'As every natural action of the body depends, for its perfection,

on a number of circumstances, we are led to conclude, that all the

various combining actions are established while the body is in

health, and well disposed; but this does not take place in

diseased actions, for disease, on the contrary, consists in the

want of this very combination.' _Hunter's Works_, vol. iii. p. 10.

Compare vol. i. p. 310: 'I have explained that a disease is a

disposition for a wrong action, and that the action is the

immediate effect of the disposition, and that either the actions

or the effects of those actions, _produce the symptoms which are

generally called the disease_; such as sensations, which are

commonly pain of all kinds, sickness, alteration visible or

invisible in the structure of the part or parts that act, and

sympathy.'

[904] 'There is no such thing, strictly speaking, as a predisposing

cause. What is commonly understood by a predisposing cause is an

increased susceptibility to form disposition to action. When I say

I am predisposed for such and such actions, it is only that I am

very susceptible of such and such impressions.' _Hunter's Works_,

vol. i. p. 303. See also p. 301: 'The most simple idea I can form

of an animal being capable of disease is, that every animal is

endued with a power of action, and a susceptibility of impression,

which impression forms a disposition, which disposition may

produce action, which action becomes the immediate sign of the

disease; all of which will be according to the nature of the

impression and of the part impressed.'

By reasoning from the twofold ideas of action and of sympathy, Hunter

constructed the deductive or synthetic part of his pathology. This he did

as a Scotchman, and to this, had he always lived in Scotland, he would

probably have confined himself. But being for forty years surrounded by

Englishmen, and having his mind impregnated by English habits, he

contracted something of their mode of thought. We, accordingly, find that

a considerable portion of his pathology is as inductive as the most eager

disciple of Bacon could desire; forming, in this respect, a striking

contrast to the purely synthetic method of Cullen, the other great

pathologist of Scotland. In the attempt, however, which Hunter made to

mix these two methods, he perplexed both himself and his readers. Hence

that obscurity, which even his warmest admirers have noticed, though they

have not perceived its cause. Vast as his powers were, he was unable to

effect a complete union between induction and deduction. That this should

have happened, will not surprise any one, who considers how some of the

greatest thinkers have failed in this, the most difficult of all

enterprises. Among the ancients, Plato failed in induction, and all his

followers failed with him; since none of them have placed sufficient

confidence in facts, and in the process of reasoning from particulars to

generals. Among the moderns, Bacon was deficient in deduction, and every

Baconian has been similarly deficient; it being the essential vice of

that school to despise reasoning from general propositions, and to

underrate the value of the syllogism. It may, indeed, be doubted if the

history of the world supplies more than two instances of physical

philosophers being as great in one form of investigation as in the other.

They are Aristotle and Newton, who wielded each method with equal ease,

combining the skill and boldness of deduction with the caution and

perseverance of induction, masters alike of synthesis and of analysis, as

capable of proceeding from generals to particulars, as from particulars

to generals, sometimes making ideas precede facts, and sometimes making

facts precede ideas, but never faltering, never doubting which course to

take, and never allowing either scheme unduly to encroach on its

opposite. That Hunter should be unable to perform this, merely proves

that he was inferior to these two men, whose almost incredible

achievements entitle them to be termed the prodigies of the human race.

But what he did was wonderful, and, in his own department, has never been

rivalled. Of the character and extent of his inquiries, I have given a

sketch, which, notwithstanding its imperfections, may serve to illustrate

the antagonism of the Scotch and English intellects, by showing how the

methods peculiar to each nation struggled for mastery in that great mind,

which was exposed to the action of both. Which method predominated in

Hunter, it would be hard to say. But it is certain, that his

understanding was troubled by their conflict. It is also certain, that,

owing to his love of deduction, or of reasoning from general ideas, he

exercised much less sway over his English contemporaries, than he would

have done if he had exclusively followed their favourite method of

reasoning from particular facts. Hence, the disproportion between his

influence and his merits. As to his merits, it is now admitted that, in

addition to his physiological discoveries, and the great pathological

views which he propounded, we may trace to him nearly all the surgical

improvements which were introduced within about forty years after his

death.[905] He was the first who explained, and, indeed, the first who

recognized, the disease of inflammation of the veins, which is of

frequent occurrence, and, under the name of phlebitis, has latterly been

much studied, but which, before his time, had been ascribed to the most

erroneous causes.[906] On general inflammation, he threw so much light,

that the doctrines which he advocated, and which were then ridiculed as

whimsical novelties, are now taught in the schools, and have become part

of the common traditions of the medical profession.[907] He, moreover,

introduced what is probably the most capital improvement in surgery ever

effected by a single man; namely, the practice in aneurism of tying the

artery at a distance from the seat of disease. This one suggestion has

saved thousands of lives; and both the suggestion, and the first

successful execution of it, are entirely owing to John Hunter, who, if he

had done nothing else, would, on this account alone, have a right to be

classed among the principal benefactors of mankind.[908]

[905] Hunter died in 1793. In 1835, Mr. Palmer writes: 'Those who have

traced the progress of modern surgery to its true source, will not

fail to have discerned, in the principles which Hunter

established, the germs of almost all the improvements which have

been since introduced.' _Hunter's Works_, vol. i. p. vii. Eighteen

years later, Mr. Paget says of Hunter's views respecting the

healing of injuries: 'In these sentences, Mr. Hunter has embodied

the principle on which is founded the whole practice of

subcutaneous surgery; a principle of which, indeed, it seems

hardly possible to exaggerate the importance.' _Paget's Lectures

on Surgical Pathology_, London, 1853, vol. i. p. 170. At pp. 197,

198: 'After what I have said respecting the process of immediate

union, it may appear that Mr. Hunter was more nearly right than

his successors.'

[906] 'Inflammation of the veins, originally studied by Hunter, has of

late years attracted the attention of many distinguished

Continental and British pathologists.' _Erichsen's Surgery_,

London, 1857, p. 475. 'No subject more amply illustrates the

essential services which the science and art of medicine have

derived from pathological anatomy than that of phlebitis. By this

study many a dark point in the phenomena of disease has been

either thoroughly elucidated, or, at all events, rendered more

comprehensible. We need only refer to the so-termed malignant

intermittents, consequent upon wounds and surgical operations,--to

certain typhoid conditions, puerperal diseases, and the like, John

Hunter, the elder Meckel, and Peter Frank, were the first to

commence the investigation.' _Hasse's Anatomical Description of

the Diseases of the Organs of Circulation and Respiration_,

London, 1846, p. 10. 'Hunter was the first to open the way, and

since that period the scalpel has shown that many previously

unintelligible malignant conditions are attributable to

phlebitis.' _Jones and Sieveking's Pathological Anatomy_, London,

1854, p. 362. On the application of this discovery to the theory

of inflammation of the spleen, see _Rokitansky's Pathological

Anatomy_, vol. ii. p. 173, London, 1849; compare vol. iv. p. 335.

[907] Sir Benjamin Brodie says: 'It is true that the essential parts of

John Hunter's doctrines as to inflammation and its consequences

are now so incorporated with what is taught in the schools, that

to be acquainted with them you need not seek them in his works;

but I recommend you, nevertheless, to make these your especial

study, for the sake of the other valuable information which they

contain, and the important views in physiology and pathology

which, in almost every page, are offered to your contemplation.'

_Brodie's Lectures on Pathology and Surgery_, London, 1846, p. 25.

'John Hunter, whose treatise on Inflammation is a mine in which

all succeeding writers have dug.' _Watson's Principles and

Practice of Physic_, London, 1857, vol. i. p. 146. 'The appeal to

philosophical principles in Hunter's works was, indeed, the cause

of their being a closed volume to his less enlightened

contemporaries; but, though the principles implied or expressed,

subjected them to the scorn and neglect of those less imbued with

the spirit of philosophy, the results of those principles,

verified as they were by facts, have gradually and insensibly

forced themselves on the conviction of the profession; and though

adopted silently, and without acknowledgment, as if the authors

themselves had forgotten or were ignorant from whence they were

derived, they now form the very groundwork of all books,

treatises, and lectures on professional subjects.' _Green's Vital

Dynamics_, London, 1840, p. 81. Finally, I will quote the very

recent testimony of Mr. Simon, who, in his masterly, and

singularly beautiful, essay on Inflammation, has not only brought

together nearly every thing which is known on that interesting

subject, but has shown himself to be possessed of powers of

generalization rare in the medical profession, or, indeed, in any

other profession. 'Without undue partiality, an Englishman may be

glad to say that the special study of Inflammation dates from the

labours of John Hunter. An indefatigable observer of nature,

untrammelled by educational forms, and thoroughly a sceptic in his

method of study, this large-minded surgeon of ours went to work at

inflammation with a full estimate of the physiological vastness of

his subject. He saw that, in order to understand inflammation, he

must regard it, not as one solitary fact of disease, but in

connexion with kindred phenomena--some of them truly morbid in

their nature, but many of them within the limits of health. He saw

that, for any one who would explain inflammation, all inequalities

of blood supply, all periodicities of growth, all actions of

sympathy, were part of the problem to be solved.' ... 'He cannot

be understood without more reflection than average readers will

give; and only they who are content to struggle through a veil of

obscure language, up to the very reality of his intent, can learn

with how great a master they are communing.' ... 'Doubtless, he

was a great discoverer. But it is for the spirit of his labours,

even more than for the establishment of new doctrine, that English

surgery is for ever indebted to him. Of facts in pathology, he

may, perhaps, be no permanent teacher; but to the student of

medicine he must always be a noble pattern. Emphatically, it may

be said of him, that he was the physiological surgeon. Others,

before him (Galen, for instance, eminently), had been at once

physiologists and practitioners; but science, in their case, had

come little into contact with practice. Never had physiology been

so incorporated with surgery, never been so applied to the

investigation of disease and the suggestion of treatment, as it

was by this master-workman of ours. And to him, so far as such

obligations can be personal, we assuredly owe it that, for the

last half-century, the foundations of English surgery have, at

least professedly, been changing from a basis of empiricism to a

basis of science.' _Simon on Inflammation_, in _A System of

Surgery_, edited by T. Holmes, London, 1860, vol. i. pp. 134-136.

[908] Mr. Bowman, in his _Principles of Surgery_ (_Encyclopædia of the

Medical Sciences_, London, 4to, 1847) says (p. 831): 'Before the

time of Hunter, the operation was performed by cutting into the

sac of the aneurism, and tying the vessel above and below. So

formidable was this proceeding in its consequences, that

amputation of the limb was frequently preferred, as a less

dangerous and fatal measure. The genius of Hunter led him to tie

the femoral artery, in a case of popliteal aneurism, leaving the

tumour untouched. The safety and efficacy of this mode of

operating have now been fully established, and the principle has

been extended to all operations for the cure of this formidable

disease.' See also p. 873; _Paget's Surgical Pathology_, vol. i.

pp. 36, 37; and _Erichsen's Surgery_, pp. 141, 142, 508, 509.

But, so far as his own immediate reputation was concerned, all was in

vain. He was in the midst of a people who had no sympathy with that mode

of thought which was most natural to him. They cared nothing for ideas,

except with a few to direct and tangible results; he valued ideas for

themselves, and for the sake of their truth, independently of all other

considerations. His English contemporaries, prudent, sagacious, but

short-sighted, seeing few things at a time, but seeing those things with

admirable clearness, were unable to appreciate his comprehensive

speculations. Hence, in their opinion, he was little else than an

innovator and an enthusiast.[909] Hence, too, even the practical

improvements which he introduced were coldly received, because they

proceeded from so suspicious a source. The great Scotchman, thrown among

a nation whose habits of mind were uncongenial to his own, stood, says

one of the most celebrated of his disciples, in a position of solitary

and comfortless superiority.[910] Indeed, so little was he regarded by

that very profession of which he was the chiefest ornament, that, during

the many years in which he delivered lectures in London on anatomy and on

surgery, his audience never amounted to twenty persons.[911]

[909] 'The majority of Hunter's contemporaries considered his pursuits to

have little connexion with practice, charged him with attending to

physiology more than surgery, and looked on him as little better

than an innovator and an enthusiast.' _Ottley's Life of Hunter_,

p. 126. In a work, which was written by a surgeon only the year

after Hunter died, the reader is told, in regard to his remarkable

inquiries respecting animal heat, that 'his experiments, if they

be true, carry with them no manner of information:--if they be

true, no effect for the benefit of man can possibly be derived

from them.' _Foot's Life of Hunter_, London, 1794, p. 116. At p.

225, the same practitioner reproaches the great philosopher with

propounding 'purely a piece of theory, without any practical

purpose whatever.' Foot, indeed, wrote under the influence of

personal feelings, but he rightly judged that these were the sort

of charges which would be most likely to prejudice the English

public against Hunter. It never occurred to Foot, any more than it

would occur to his readers, that the quest of truth, as truth, is

a magnificent object, even if its practical benefit is

imperceptible. One other testimony is worth quoting. Sir Astley

Cooper writes of Cline: 'His high opinion of Mr. Hunter shows his

judgment; for almost all others of Mr. Hunter's contemporaries,

although they praise him now, abused him while he lived.' _The

Life of Sir Astley Cooper, by Bransby Blake Cooper_, London, 1843,

vol. ii. p. 337.

[910] 'Those who far precede others, must necessarily remain alone; and

their actions often appear unaccountable, nay, even extravagant,

to their distant followers, who know not the causes that give rise

to them, nor the effects which they are designed to produce. In

such a situation stood Mr. Hunter, with relation to his

contemporaries. It was a comfortless precedence, for it deprived

him of sympathy and social co-operation.' _Abernathy's Hunterian

Oration_, p. 49.

[911] 'These he continued for several years; but so far were his

talents, and his enlightened views, from exciting the attention

they merited, that his hearers never amounted to twenty,'

_Ottley's Life of Hunter_, p. 28.

* * * * *

I have now completed my examination of the Scotch intellect as it

unfolded itself in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The

difference between those two periods must strike every reader. In the

seventeenth century, the ablest Scotchmen wasted their energies on

theological subjects, respecting which we have no trustworthy

information, and no means of obtaining any. On these topics, different

persons and different nations, equally honest, equally enlightened, and

equally competent, have entertained, and still entertain, the most

different opinions, which they advocate with the greatest confidence, and

support by arguments, perfectly satisfactory to themselves, but

contemptuously rejected by their opponents. Each side deeming itself in

possession of the truth, the impartial inquirer, that is, he who really

loves truth, and knows how difficult it is to obtain it, seeks for some

means by which he may fairly adjudicate between these conflicting

pretensions, and determine which is right and which is wrong. The further

he searches, the more he becomes convinced that no such means are to be

found, and that these questions, if they do not transcend the limits of

the human understanding, do, certainly, transcend its present resources,

and have no chance of being answered, while other and much simpler

problems are still unsolved. It would be strange, indeed, if we, ignorant

of so many lower and subordinate matters, should be able to reach and

penetrate these remote and complicated mysteries. It would be strange if

we, who, notwithstanding the advances we have made, are still in the

infancy of our career, and who, like infants, can only walk with unsteady

gait, and are scarce able to move without stumbling, even on plain and

level ground, should, nathless, succeed in scaling those dizzy heights,

which, overhanging our path, lure us on where we are sure to fall.

Unfortunately, however, men are, in every age, so little conscious of

their deficiencies, that they not only attempt this impossible task, but

believe they have achieved it. Of those who are a prey to this delusion,

there are always a certain number, who, seated on their imaginary

eminence, are so inflated by the fancied superiority, as to undertake to

instruct, to warn, and to rebuke the rest of mankind. Giving themselves

out as spiritual advisers, and professing to teach what they have not yet

learned, they exhibit in their own persons that most consistent of all

combinations, a combination of great ignorance with great arrogance. From

this, other evils inevitably follow. The ignorance produces superstition;

the arrogance produces tyranny. Hence it is, that, in a country like

Scotland, where the pressure of long-continued and adverse circumstances

has consolidated the power of these pretenders to wisdom, such sad

results become conspicuous in every direction. Not only the national

character, but also the national literature, feel their influence, and

are coloured by them. It was, therefore, natural that, in Scotland, in

the seventeenth century, when the authority of the clergy was most

uncontrolled, the consequences of that authority should be most apparent.

It was natural that a literature should be created such as that of which

I have given some account; a literature which encouraged superstition,

intolerance, and bigotry; a literature full of dark misgivings, and of

still darker threats; a literature which taught men that it was wrong to

enjoy the present, and that it was right to tremble at the future; a

literature, in a word, which, spreading gloom on every side, soured the

temper, corrupted the affections, numbed the intellect, and brought into

complete discredit those bold and original inquiries, without which there

can be no advance in human knowledge, and consequently no increase of

human happiness.

To this, the literature of the eighteenth century offered a striking and

most exhilarating contrast. It seemed as if, in a moment, all was

changed. The Baillies, the Binnings, the Dicksons, the Durhams, the

Flemings, the Frasers, the Gillespies, the Guthries, the Halyburtons, the

Hendersons, the Rutherfords, and the rest of that monkish rabble, were

succeeded by eminent and enterprising thinkers, whose genius lighted up

every department of knowledge, and whose minds, fresh and vigorous as the

morning, opened for themselves a new career, and secured for their

country a high place in the annals of European intellect. Something of

what they effected, I have endeavoured to narrate; much, however, has

been left untold. But I have brought forward sufficient evidence to

convince even the most sceptical reader of the splendour of their

achievements, and of the difference between the noble literature which

they produced, and those wretched compositions which disfigured the

preceding century.

Still, great as the difference was, the two literatures had, as I have

shown, one important point in common. Both were essentially deductive;

and the proof of this I have given at considerable length, because,

though it has, so far as I am aware, escaped the attention of all

previous inquirers, its consequences were of the utmost moment to the

fortunes of Scotland, and are, moreover, full of interest to those who,

in their investigations of human affairs, desire to penetrate below the

mere surface and symptoms of things.

If we take a general view of those countries where science has been

cultivated, we shall find that, wherever the deductive method of inquiry

has predominated, knowledge, though often increased and accumulated, has

never been widely diffused. On the other hand, we shall find that, when

the inductive method has predominated, the diffusion of knowledge has

always been considerable, or, at all events, has been beyond comparison

greater than when deduction was prevalent. This holds good, not only of

different countries, but also of different periods in the same country.

It even holds good of different individuals in the same period, and in

the same country. If, in any civilized nation, two men, equally gifted,

were to propound some new and startling conclusion, and one of these men

were to defend his conclusion by reasoning from ideas or general

principles, while the other man were to defend his by reasoning from

particular and visible facts, there can be no doubt that, supposing all

other things the same, the latter man would gain most adherents. His

conclusion would be more easily diffused, simply because a direct appeal,

in the first instance, to palpable facts, strikes the vulgar with

immediate effect; while an appeal to principles is beyond their ken, and

as they do not sympathize with it, they are apt to ridicule it. Facts

seem to come home to every one, and are undeniable. Principles are not so

obvious, and, being often disputed, they have, to those who do not grasp

them, an unreal and illusory appearance, which weakens their influence.

Hence it is that inductive science, which always gives the first place to

facts, is essentially popular, and has on its side those innumerable

persons, who will not listen to the more refined and subtle teachings of

deductive science. Hence, too, we find historically that the

establishment of the modern inductive philosophy, with its varied and

attractive experiments, its material appliances, and its constant appeal

to the senses, has been intimately connected with the awakening of the

public mind, and coincides with that spirit of inquiry, and with that

love of liberty, which have been constantly advancing since the

sixteenth century. We may assuredly say, that scepticism and democracy

are the two leading features of this great scientific movement. The

seventeenth century, which ushered in the Baconian philosophy, was

remarkable for its insubordinate spirit, especially in the country where

that philosophy originated, and where it most flourished. In the next

age, it was transplanted into France, and there, too, it worked upon the

popular mind, and, was, as I have already pointed out, one of the

principal causes of the French Revolution.

If we look still closer into this interesting question, we shall find

further corroboration of the view, that the inferences of an inductive

philosophy are more likely to be diffused than those of a deductive one.

Inductive science rests immediately upon experience, or, at all events,

upon experiment, which is merely experience artificially modified. Now,

an immense majority of mankind, even in the most advanced countries, are,

by the constitution of their minds, incapable of seizing general

principles and applying them to daily affairs, without doing serious

mischief, either to themselves, or to others. Such an application

requires not only great dexterity, but also a knowledge of those

disturbing causes which affect the operation of all general theorems. The

task, being so difficult to perform, is rarely attempted; and average

men, possessed of a tolerably sound judgment, do, with good reason, rely

mainly on experience, which is to them a safer and more useful guide than

any principle, however accurate and scientific it might be. This begets

in their minds a prejudice on behalf of experimental inquiries, and a

corresponding dislike of the opposite and more speculative method. And it

can, I think, hardly be doubted, that one of the causes of the triumph of

the Baconian philosophy, is the growth of the industrious classes, whose

business-like and methodical habits are eminently favourable to empirical

observations of the uniformities of sequence, since, indeed, on the

accuracy of such observations the success of all practical affairs

depends. Certainly, we find that the overthrow of the purely deductive

scholasticism of the Middle Ages has been everywhere accompanied by the

spread of trade; and whoever will carefully study the history of Europe,

will discern many traces of a connexion between the two movements, both

of which are marked by an increasing respect for material and empirical

interests, and a disregard of ideal and speculative pursuits.

The relation between all this and the popular tendency of induction is

obvious. For one person who can think, there are at least a hundred

persons who can observe. An accurate observer is, no doubt, rare; but an

accurate thinker is far rarer. Of this the proofs are too abundant to be

disputed. Indeed, no one can mix with his fellow-creatures, without

seeing how much more natural it is for them to notice than to reflect;

and how extremely unusual it is to meet with any one whose conversation,

or whose writings, bear marks of patient and original thought. And,

inasmuch as thinkers are more prone to accumulate ideas, while observers

are more prone to accumulate facts, the overwhelming predominance of the

observing class is a decisive reason why induction, which begins with

facts, is always more popular than deduction, which begins with ideas. It

is often said, and probably with truth, that all deduction is preceded by

induction; so that, in every syllogism, the major premiss, however

obvious and necessary it may appear, is merely a generalization of facts,

or record of what the senses had already observed. But this opinion,

whether true or false, does not affect what I have just stated, because

it concerns the origin of our knowledge, and not its subsequent

treatment; that is to say, it is a metaphysical opinion, rather than a

logical one. For, even supposing that all deduction rests ultimately on

induction, it is, nevertheless, certain that there are innumerable cases

in which the induction takes place at so early a period of life that we

are unconscious of it, and can by no effort recall the process. The

axioms of geometry afford a good specimen of this. No one can tell when

or how he first believed that the whole is greater than its part, or that

things which are equal to the same thing are equal to one another. All

these preliminary steps are concealed from us, and the strength and

dexterity of deduction are displayed in the subsequent steps by which the

major premiss is adjusted, and, as it were, fitted to the minor. This

often requires great subtlety of thought, and, in every instance, the

external world is put aside, and lost sight of. The process, being ideal,

has no concern, either with observations or experiments. The suggestions

of the senses are shut out, while the mind passes through a long train of

successive syllogisms, in which each conclusion is turned into the

premiss of a new argument, until, at length, an inference is deductively

obtained, which, to those who merely hear it enunciated, seems to have no

connexion with the first premisses, though, in reality, it is the

necessary consequence of them.

A method, so recondite, and so hidden from the public gaze, can never

command the public sympathy. Unless, therefore, the human mind should

undergo some remarkable change in its nature as well as in its resources,

the sensuous process of working upwards from particular facts to general

principles, will always be more attractive than the ideal process of

working downwards from principles to facts. In both cases, there is, no

doubt, a line of argument essentially ideal; just as, in both cases,

there is an assemblage of facts essentially sensuous. No method is pure,

or stands entirely by itself. But, inasmuch as, in induction, the facts

are more prominent than the ideas, while, in deduction, the ideas are

more prominent than the facts, it is evident that conclusions arrived at

by the former plan will, as a general rule, obtain a wider assent than

conclusions arrived at by the latter plan. Obtaining a wider assent, they

will produce more decisive results, and will be more likely to shape the

national character and influence the course of national affairs.

The only exception to this, is theology. There, the inductive method, as

I have already observed, is inapplicable, and nothing remains but

deduction, which is quite sufficient for the purposes of the theologian.

For, he has a peculiar resource which supplies him with general

principles, from which he can argue; and the possession of this resource

forms the fundamental difference between him and the man of science.

Science is the result of inquiry; theology is the result of faith. In the

one, the spirit of doubt; in the other, the spirit of belief. In science,

originality is the parent of discovery, and is, therefore, a merit; in

theology, it is the parent of heresy, and is, therefore, a crime. Every

system of religion the world has yet seen, recognizes faith as an

indispensable duty; but to every system of science it is a hindrance,

instead of a duty, inasmuch as it discourages those inquisitive and

innovating habits on which all intellectual progress depends. The

theologian, thus turning credulity into an honour, and valuing men in

proportion as they are simple-minded and easy of belief, has little need

to trouble himself with facts, which, indeed, he sets at open defiance,

in his eagerness to narrate portentous, and often miraculous, events. To

the inductive philosopher such a license is forbidden. He is obliged to

ground his inferences on facts which no one disputes, or which, at all

events, any one can either verify for himself, or see verified by others.

And if he does not adopt this course, his inferences, be they ever so

true, will have the greatest difficulty in working themselves into the

popular mind, because they will savour of a subtlety and refinement of

thought, which, more than any thing else, predisposes common

understandings to reject the conclusions at which philosophers arrive.

From the facts and arguments contained in this and the preceding chapter,

the reader will, I trust, be able to see why it was that the Scotch

intellect, during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, was

preëminently deductive; and also why it was that, in the eighteenth

century, the Scotch literature, notwithstanding its brilliancy, its

power, and the splendid discoveries of which it was the vehicle, produced

little or no effect on the nation at large. That literature, by its bold

and innovating character, seemed peculiarly fitted to disturb ancient

prejudices, and to rouse up a spirit of inquiry. But its method, both of

investigation and of proof, was too refined to suit ordinary

understandings. Therefore, upon ordinary understandings it was

inoperative. In Scotland, as in ancient Greece, and in modern Germany,

the intellectual classes, being essentially deductive, have been unable

to influence the main body of the people. They have considered things at

too great an altitude, and at too great a remove. In Greece, Aristotle

alone had a true idea of what induction really was. But even he knew

nothing of crucial instances and the theory of averages, the two capital

resources of that inductive philosophy which we now possess. Neither did

he, nor any of the great German philosophers, nor any of the great Scotch

philosophers, attach sufficient importance to the slow and cautious

method of gradually rising from each generalization to the one

immediately above it, without omitting any intermediate generalizations.

On this method, Bacon, indeed, insists too strongly, since many most

important discoveries have been made independently of it, or, I should

rather say, in contradiction to it. But it is a wonderful weapon, and

none except men of real genius can dispense with its use. And when they

do dispense with it, they cut themselves off from the general sympathies

of their age and country. For, these small and proximate generalizations,

which they neglect, are precisely those parts of philosophy which, being

least removed from the region of visible facts, are best understood by

the people, and, therefore, form the only common ground between thinkers

and practitioners. They are a sort of middle term, which, being

comprehended by both classes, is accessible to either. In all deductive

reasoning, this intermediate, and, if I may so say, neutral, territory

disappears, and the two classes have no meeting-place. Hence it is, that

the Scotch philosophy, like the German philosophy, and like the Greek

philosophy, has had no national influence. But in England, since the

seventeenth century, and in France, since the eighteenth century, the

prevailing philosophy has been inductive, and has, therefore, not only

affected the intellectual classes, but also moved the public mind. The

German philosophers are far superior, both in depth and in

comprehensiveness, to the philosophers either of France or of England.

Their profound researches have, however, done so little for their

country, that the German people are every way inferior to the French and

English people. So, too, in the philosophy of ancient Greece, we find a

vast body of massive and original thought, and, what is infinitely

better, we find a boldness of inquiry and a passionate love of truth,

such as no modern nation has surpassed, and few modern nations have

equalled. But the method of that philosophy was an insuperable barrier to

its propagation. The people were untouched, and went grovelling on in

their old folly, a prey to superstitions, most of which the great

thinkers despised, and often attacked, but could by no means root out.

Bad, however, as those superstitions were, we may confidently say that

they were less noxious, that is, less detrimental to the happiness of

man, than the repulsive and horrible notions advocated by the Scotch

clergy, and sanctioned by the Scotch people. And on those notions the

Scotch philosophy could make no impression. In Scotland, during the

eighteenth century, superstition and science, the most irreconcilable of

all enemies, flourished side by side, unable to weaken each other, and

unable, indeed, to come into collision with each other. There was

co-existence without contact. The two forces kept apart, and the result

was, that, while the Scotch thinkers were creating a noble and most

enlightened literature, the Scotch people, refusing to listen to those

great masters of wisdom which their country possessed, remained in

darkness, leaving the blind to follow the blind, and no one there to help

them.

It is, indeed, curious to observe how little effect was produced by the

many great works written by Scotchmen in the eighteenth century. If we

except the _Wealth of Nations_, I can hardly call to mind one which has

perceptibly influenced public opinion. The reason of this exception may

be easily explained. The _Wealth of Nations_ restricted the action of

government within narrower limits than had ever been assigned to it by

any other book of great merit. No previous political writer of admitted

genius, had left so much to the people, and had demanded for them so much

liberty in managing their own affairs, as Adam Smith did. The _Wealth of

Nations_, being thus eminently a democratic book, was sure to find favour

in Scotland, which was eminently a democratic country. Directly men heard

its conclusions, they were prejudiced in favour of its arguments. So,

too, in England, that love of liberty, which for many centuries has been

our leading characteristic, and which does us more real honour than all

our conquests, all our literature, and all our philosophy put together,

invariably causes a popular bias on behalf of any claim to freedom. We,

therefore, notwithstanding the activity of interested parties, were

predisposed to the side of free trade, as one of the means of letting

each man do what he liked with his own. But to imagine that ordinary

minds are capable of mastering such a work as the _Wealth of Nations_,

and of following without confusion its long and intricate arguments, is

simply absurd. It has been read by tens of thousands of persons, who

accept its conclusions because they like them; which is merely saying,

because the movement of the age tends that way. The other great work of

Adam Smith, namely, the _Theory of Moral Sentiments_, has had no

influence except on a very small class of metaphysicians, although its

style is, as some think, superior to the _Wealth of Nations_, and it is

certainly easier to understand. It is, moreover, much shorter, which, to

most readers, is no small recommendation; and it deals with subjects of

great interest, which come home to the feelings of all. But the age, not

caring for its conclusions, neglected its arguments. On the other hand,

the _Wealth of Nations_ harmonized with the general tendency, and its

success was supreme. It quickly moved, not only philosophers, but even

statesmen and politicians, who eventually put into force its leading

recommendations, though, as their laws and their speeches abundantly

prove, they have never succeeded in mastering those great principles

which underlie it, and of which the freedom of trade is but a minor

accessory.

Putting aside the _Wealth of Nations_, we shall find that the Scotch

literature of the eighteenth century did scarcely any thing for Scotland,

considered as a whole. How it has failed in its great aim of weakening

superstition, is but too apparent to whoever has travelled in that

country, and observed the habits and turn of mind still predominant. Many

able and enlightened men who lived there, are so cowed by the general

spirit, that, for their own comfort, and for the peace of their families,

they make no resistance, but tacitly comply with what they heartily

despise. That they err in doing so, I, at least, firmly believe; though I

know that many honest, and in every respect competent, judges are of

opinion, that no man is bound to be a martyr, or to jeopardize his

personal interests, unless he clearly sees his way to some immediate

public good. To me, however, it appears that this is a narrow view, and

that the first duty of every one is to set his face in direct opposition

to what he believes to be false, and, having done that, leave the results

of his conduct to take care of themselves. Still, the temptation to a

contrary course is always very strong, and, in a country like Scotland,

is by many deemed irresistible. In no other Protestant nation, and,

indeed, in no Catholic nation except Spain, will a man who is known to

hold unorthodox opinions, find his life equally uncomfortable. In a few

of the large towns, he may possibly escape animadversion, if his

sentiments are not too bold, and are not too openly expressed. If he is

timid and taciturn, his heresy may, perchance, be overlooked. But even in

large towns, impunity is the exception, and not the rule. Even in the

capital of Scotland, in that centre of intelligence which once boasted of

being the Modern Athens, a whisper will quickly circulate that such an

one is to be avoided, for that he is a free-thinker; as if free-thinking

were a crime, or as if it were not better to be a free-thinker than a

slavish thinker. In other parts, that is, in Scotland generally, the

state of things is far worse. I speak, not on vague rumour, but from what

I know as existing at the present time, and for the accuracy of which I

vouch and hold myself responsible. I challenge any one to contradict my

assertion, when I say that, at this moment, nearly all over Scotland, the

finger of scorn is pointed at every man, who, in the exercise of his

sacred and inalienable right of free judgment, refuses to acquiesce in

those religious notions, and to practise those religious customs, which

time, indeed, has consecrated, but many of which are repulsive to the eye

of reason, though to all of them, however irrational they maybe, the

people adhere with sullen and inflexible obstinacy. Knowing that these

words will be widely read and circulated in Scotland, and averse as I

naturally am to bring on myself the hostility of a nation, for whose many

sterling and valuable qualities I entertain sincere respect, I do,

nevertheless, deliberately affirm, that in no civilized country is

toleration so little understood, and that in none is the spirit of

bigotry and of persecution so extensively diffused. Nor can any one

wonder that such should be the case, who observes what is going on there.

The churches are as crowded as they were in the Middle Ages, and are

filled with devout and ignorant worshippers, who flock together to listen

to opinions of which the Middle Ages alone were worthy. Those opinions

they treasure up, and, when they return to their homes, or enter into the

daily business of life, they put them in force. And the result is, that

there runs through the entire country a sour and fanatical spirit, an

aversion to innocent gaiety, a disposition to limit the enjoyments of

others, and a love of inquiring into the opinions of others, and of

interfering with them, such as is hardly anywhere else to be found;

while, in the midst of all this, there flourishes a national creed,

gloomy and austere to the last degree, a creed which is full of

forebodings and threats and horrors of every sort, and which rejoices in

proclaiming to mankind how wretched and miserable they are, how small a

portion of them can be saved, and what an overwhelming majority is

necessarily reserved for excruciating, unspeakable, and eternal agony.

Before bringing this volume to a close, it may be fitting that I should

narrate an event, which, notwithstanding its recent occurrence, and the

great attention it excited at the time, has, amid the pressure of

weightier matters, fallen into comparative oblivion, although it is full

of interest to those who study the various forms of national character,

while it, moreover, supplies an admirable illustration of the essential

antagonism which still exists between the Scotch and English minds; an

antagonism extremely remarkable, when found among nations, both of whom,

besides being contiguous, and constantly mixing together, speak the same

language, read the same books, belong to the same empire, and possess the

same interests, and yet are, in many important respects, as different as

if there had never been any means of their influencing each other, and as

if they had never had any thing in common.

In the year 1853, the cholera, after having committed serious ravages in

many parts of Europe, visited Scotland. There, it was sure to find

numerous victims among a badly fed, badly housed, and not over-cleanly

people. For, if there is one thing better established than another

respecting this disease, it is that it invariably attacks, with the

greatest effect, those classes who, from poverty or from sloth, are

imperfectly nourished, neglect their persons, and live in dirty,

ill-drained, or ill-ventilated dwellings. In Scotland, such classes are

very numerous. In Scotland, therefore, the cholera must needs be very

fatal. In this, there was nothing mysterious. On the contrary, the

mystery would have been if an epidemic, like the Asiatic cholera, had

spared a country like Scotland, where all the materials were collected on

which pestilence feeds, and where filth, penury, and disorder, abound on

every side.

Under these circumstances, it must have been evident, not merely to men

of science, but to all men of plain, sound understanding, who would apply

their minds to the matter without prejudice, that the Scotch had only one

way of successfully grappling with their terrible enemy. It behoved them

to feed their poor, to cleanse their cesspools, and to ventilate their

houses. If they had done this, and done it quickly, thousands of lives

would have been spared. But they neglected it, and the country was thrown

into mourning. Nay, they not only neglected it, but, moved by the dire

superstition which sits like an incubus upon them, they adopted a course

which, if it had been carried into full operation, would have aggravated

the calamity to a frightful extent. It is well known that, whenever an

epidemic is raging, physical exhaustion and mental depression make the

human frame more liable to it, and are, therefore, especially to be

guarded against. But, though this is a matter of common notoriety, the

Scotch clergy, backed, sad to say, by the general voice of the Scotch

people, wished the public authorities to take a step which was certain to

cause physical exhaustion, and to encourage mental depression. In the

name of religion, whose offices they thus abused and perverted to the

detriment of man, instead of employing them for his benefit, they

insisted on the propriety of ordering a national fast, which, in so

superstitious a country, was sure to be rigidly kept, and, being rigidly

kept, was equally sure to enfeeble thousands of delicate persons, and,

before twenty-four hours were passed, prepare them to receive that deadly

poison which was already lurking around them, and which, hitherto, they

had just strength enough to resist. The public fast was also to be

accompanied by a public humiliation, in order that nothing might be

wanting to appal the mind and fill it with terror. On the same occasion,

the preachers were to thunder from their pulpits and proclaim aloud the

sins of the land; while the poor benighted people, panic-struck, were to

sit in awe, were to remain the whole day without proper nourishment, and

retire to their beds, weeping and starved. Then it was hoped that the

Deity would be propitiated, and the plague be stayed. As soon as the

entire nation had taken the course, which, of all others, was most

certain to increase the mortality, it was believed that man having done

his worst, the Almighty would interpose, would violate the laws of

nature, and, by working a miracle, would preserve his creatures from

what, without a miracle, would be the inevitable consequence of their

own deliberate act.

This was the scheme projected by the Scotch clergy, and they were

determined to put it into execution. To give greater effect to it, they

called upon England to help them, and, in the autumn of 1853, the

Presbytery of Edinburgh, thinking that from their position they were

bound to take the lead, caused their Moderator to address a letter,

ostensibly to the English Minister, but in reality to the English nation.

In this choice production, a copy of which is now lying before me, the

Home Secretary is assured that the members of the Presbytery had delayed

appointing a day for fasting and humiliation on their own ecclesiastical

authority, because they thought it likely that one would be appointed by

the royal authority. But as this had not been done, the Presbytery

respectfully requested to be informed if it was intended to be done. They

apologized for the liberty they were taking; they had no desire unduly to

intrude themselves; neither did they wish the Home Secretary to answer

their question unless he felt himself justified in doing so. Still, if he

were able to answer it, they would be glad. For, there was no doubt that

Asiatic cholera was in the country; and such being the case, the

Presbytery of Edinburgh were interested in knowing if the appointment by

the Queen of a national fast was in contemplation.[912]

[912] 'The members were of opinion,' writes the Moderator, 'that it

was likely, in the circumstances, that a national fast would be

appointed on royal authority. For this reason, they delayed

making an appointment for this locality, and directed me, in the

meantime, respectfully to request that you would be pleased to

say--if you feel yourself at liberty to do so--whether the

appointment of a national fast by the Queen is in contemplation.

The Presbytery hope to be excused for the liberty they use in

preferring this request.'

This letter, which, through the medium of the press, was sure to become

well known and to be widely read, was evidently intended to act on public

opinion in England. It was, in fact, a covert reproach on the English

Government for having neglected its spiritual duties, and for not having

perceived that fasting was the most effectual way of stopping an

epidemic. In Scotland, generally, it received great praise, and was

regarded as a dignified rebuke addressed to the irreligious habits of the

English people, who, seeing the cholera at their doors, merely occupied

themselves with sanatory measures, and carnal devices to improve the

public health, showing thereby that they trusted too much to the arms of

the flesh. In England, on the other hand, this manifesto of the Scotch

Church was met with almost universal ridicule, and, indeed, found no

favourers except among the most ignorant and credulous part of the

nation. The minister to whom it was addressed, was Lord Palmerston, a man

of vast experience, and perhaps better acquainted with public opinion

than any politician of his time. He, being well aware of the difference

between Scotland and England, knew that what was suitable for one country

was not suitable for the other, and that notions which the Scotch deemed

religious, the English deemed fanatical. On a former occasion, the

imperial government, yielding to the clamour which a few active and

interested men succeeded in raising, had been foolish enough to set

themselves in this matter in opposition to the temper of the age, and to

enjoin public observances which, happily, were not strictly obeyed, but

which, in so far as they were obeyed, heightened the general terror by

reinforcing natural fears with supernatural ones, and thus, depressing

the nervous system, increased the chance of mortality from the

pestilence. To have the plague in our country is bad enough, since, do

what we may, many victims will be struck down by it. But a fearful

responsibility is entailed upon those who, at such a period, instead of

exerting themselves to check its ravages, either by precautionary

measures, or by soothing and re-assuring the people, do every thing in

their power to aggravate the calamity, by encouraging that superstitious

dread which weakens the popular energy at the very moment when energy is

most requisite, and troubles the coolness, the self-reliance, and

self-possession, without which no crisis of national danger can ever be

averted.

This time, however, there was no risk of the government committing so

serious a blunder. Lord Palmerston, who knew that the sound sense of the

English people would support him in what he was doing, directed a letter

to be sent to the Presbytery of Edinburgh, which, unless I am greatly

mistaken, will, in future ages, be quoted as an interesting document for

illustrating the history of the progress of public opinion. A century

ago, any statesman who had written such a letter, would have been driven

from office by a storm of general indignation. Two centuries ago, the

consequences to him would have been still more disastrous, and would,

indeed, have ruined him socially, as well as politically. For, in it, he

sets at defiance those superstitious fancies respecting the origin of

disease, which were once universally cherished as an essential part of

every religious creed. Traditions, the memory of which is preserved in

the theological literature of all Pagan countries, of all Catholic

countries, and of all Protestant countries, are quietly put aside, as if

they were matters of no moment, and as if it were not worth while to

discuss them. The Scotch clergy, occupying the old ground on which the

members of their profession had always been accustomed to stand, took for

granted that the cholera was the result of the divine anger, and was

intended to chastise our sins. In the reply which they now received from

the English Government, a doctrine was enunciated, which to Englishmen

seems right enough, but which to Scotchmen sounded very profane. The

Presbytery were informed, that the affairs of this world are regulated by

natural laws, on the observance or neglect of which the weal or woe of

mankind depends.[913] One of those laws connects disease with the

exhalations of bodies; and it is by virtue of this law that contagion

spreads, either in crowded cities, or in places where vegetable

decomposition is going on. Man, by exerting himself, can disperse or

neutralize these noxious influences. The appearance of the cholera proves

that he has not exerted himself. The towns have not been purified; hence

the root of the evil. The Home Secretary, therefore, advised the

Presbytery of Edinburgh, that it was better to cleanse than to fast. He

thought that the plague being upon them, activity was preferable to

humiliation. It was now autumn, and before the hot weather would return,

a considerable period must elapse. That period should be employed in

destroying the causes of disease, by improving the abodes of the poor. If

this were done, all would go well. Otherwise, pestilence would be sure to

revisit them, 'in spite'--I quote the words of the English minister--'in

spite of all the prayers and fastings of a united, but inactive

nation.'[914]

[913] 'The weal or woe of mankind depends upon the observance or neglect

of those laws.'

[914] 'Lord Palmerston would, therefore, suggest that the best course

which the people of this country can pursue to deserve that the

further progress of the cholera should be stayed, will be to

employ the interval that will elapse between the present time and

the beginning of next spring in planning and executing measures by

which those portions of their towns and cities which are inhabited

by the poorest classes, and which, from the nature of things, must

most need purification and improvement, may be freed from those

causes and sources of contagion which, if allowed to remain, will

infallibly breed pestilence, and be fruitful in death, in spite of

all the prayers and fastings of a united, but inactive nation.'

This correspondence between the Scotch clergy and the English statesman,

is not to be regarded as a mere passing episode of light or temporary

interest. On the contrary, it represents that terrible struggle between

theology and science, which, having begun in the persecution of science,

and in the martyrdom of scientific men, has, in these later days, taken a

happier turn, and is now manifestly destroying that old theological

spirit, which has brought so much misery and ruin upon the world. The

ancient superstition, which was once universal, but is now slowly though

surely dying away, represented the Deity as being constantly moved to

anger, delighting in seeing His creatures abase and mortify themselves,

taking pleasure in their sacrifices and their austerities, and,

notwithstanding all they could do, constantly inflicting on them the most

grievous punishments, among which the different forms of pestilence were

conspicuous. It is by science, and by science alone, that these horrible

delusions are being dissipated. Events, which formerly were deemed

supernatural visitations, are now shown to depend upon natural causes,

and to be amenable to natural remedies. Man can predict them, and man can

deal with them. Being the inevitable result of their own antecedents, no

room is left for the notion of their being special inflictions. This

great change in our opinions is fatal to theology, but is serviceable to

religion. For, by it, science, instead of being the enemy of religion,

becomes its ally. Religion is to each individual according to the inward

light with which he is endowed. In different characters, therefore, it

assumes different forms, and can never be reduced to one common and

arbitrary rule. Theology, on the other hand, claiming authority over all

minds, and refusing to recognize their essential divergence, seeks to

compel them to a single creed, and sets up one standard of absolute

truth, by which it tests every one's opinions; presumptuously condemning

those who disagree with that standard. Such arrogant pretensions need

means of support. Those means are threats, which, in ignorant times, are

universally believed, and which, by causing fear, produce submission.

Hence it is, that the books of every theological system narrate acts of

the grossest cruelty, which, without the least hesitation, are ascribed

to the direct interposition of God. Humane and gentle natures revolt at

such cruelties, even while they try to believe them. It is the business

of science to purify theology, by showing that there has been no cruelty,

because there has been no interposition. Science ascribes to natural

causes, what theology ascribes to supernatural ones. According to this

view the calamities with which the world is afflicted, are the result of

the ignorance of man, and not of the interference of God. We must not,

therefore, ascribe to Him what is due to our own folly, or to our own

vice. We must not calumniate an all-wise and all-merciful Being, by

imputing to Him those little passions which move ourselves, as if He were

capable of rage, of jealousy, and of revenge, and as if He, with

outstretched arm, were constantly employed in aggravating the sufferings

of mankind, and making the miseries of the human race more poignant than

they would otherwise be.

That this remarkable improvement in religious ideas is due to the

progress of physical science, is apparent, not only from general

arguments which would lead us to anticipate that such must be the case,

but also from the historical fact, that the gradual destruction of the

old theology is everywhere preceded by the growth and diffusion of

physical truths. The more we know of the laws of nature, the more clearly

do we understand that every thing which happens in the material world,

pestilence, earthquake, famine, or whatever it may be, is the necessary

result of something which had previously happened. Cause produces effect,

and the effect becomes, in its turn, a cause of other effects. In that

operation, we see no gap, and we admit of no pause. To us, the chain is

unbroken; the constancy of nature is unviolated. Our minds become

habituated to contemplate all physical phenomena as presenting an

orderly, uniform, and spontaneous march, and running on in one regular

and uninterrupted sequence. This is the scientific view. It is also the

religious view. Against it, we have the theological view; but that which

has already lost its hold over the intellect of men is now losing its

hold over their affections, and is so manifestly perishing, that at

present no educated person ventures to defend it, without so limiting and

guarding his meaning, as to concede to its opponents nearly every point

which is really at issue.

While, however, in regard to the material world, the narrow notions

formerly entertained, are, in the most enlightened countries, almost

extinct, it must be confessed that, in regard to the moral world, the

progress of opinion is less rapid. The same men who believe that Nature

is undisturbed by miraculous interposition, refuse to believe that man

is equally undisturbed. In the one case, they assert the scientific

doctrine of regularity; in the other, they assert the theological

doctrine of irregularity. The reason of this difference of opinion is,

that the movements of nature are less complex than the movements of man.

Being less complex, they are more easily studied, and more quickly

understood. Hence we find, that while natural science has long been

cultivated, historical science hardly yet exists. Our knowledge of the

circumstances which determine the course of mankind, is still so

imperfect, and has been so badly digested, that it has produced scarcely

any effect on popular ideas. Philosophers, indeed, are aware, that here,

as elsewhere, there must be a necessary connexion between even the most

remote and dissimilar events. They know that every discrepancy is capable

of being reconciled, though we, in the present state of knowledge, may be

unequal to the task. This is their faith, and nothing can wean them from

it. But the great majority of people have a different faith. They believe

that what is unexplained is inexplicable, and that what is inexplicable

is supernatural. Science has explained an immense number of physical

phenomena, and therefore, even to the vulgar, those phenomena no longer

seem supernatural, but are ascribed to natural causes. On the other hand,

science has not yet explained the phenomena of history; consequently, the

theological spirit lays hold of them, and presses them into its own

service. In this way there has arisen that famous and ancient theory,

which has received the name of the moral government of the world. It is a

high-sounding title, and imposes on many, who, if they examined its

pretensions, would never be duped by them. For, like that other notion

which we have just considered, it is not only unscientific, but it is

eminently irreligious. It is, in fact, an impeachment of one of the

noblest attributes of the Deity. It is a slur on the Omniscience of God.

It assumes that the fate of nations, instead of being the result of

preceding and surrounding events, is specially subject to the control and

interference of Providence. It assumes that there are great public

emergencies, in which such interference is needed. It assumes, that,

without the interference, the course of affairs could not run smoothly;

that they would be jangled and out of tune; that the play and harmony of

the whole would be incomplete. And thus it is, that the very men who, at

one moment, proclaim the Divine Omniscience, do, at the next moment,

advocate a theory which reduces that Omniscience to nothing, since it

imputes to an All-wise Being, that the scheme of human affairs, of which

He must, from the beginning, have foreseen every issue and every

consequence, is so weakly contrived as to be liable to be frustrated;

that it has not turned out as He could have wished; that it has been

baffled by His own creatures, and that, to preserve its integrity, its

operations must be tampered with, and its disorders redressed. The great

Architect of the universe, the Creator and Designer of all existing

things, is likened to some clumsy mechanic, who knows his trade so ill,

that he has to be called in to alter the working of his own machine, to

supply its deficiencies, to fill up its flaws, and to rectify its errors.

It is time that such unworthy notions should come to an end. It is time

that what has long been known to philosophers, should also be known to

historians, and that the history of mankind should cease to be troubled

by what, to those who are imbued with the scientific spirit, must seem

little better than arrant trifling. Of two things, choose one. Either

deny the Omniscience of the Creator, or else admit it. If you deny it,

you deny what, to my mind at least, is a fundamental truth, and, on these

matters, there can be no sympathy between us. But if you admit the

Omniscience of God, beware of libelling what you profess to defend. For

when you assert what is termed the moral government of the world, you

slander Omniscience, inasmuch as you declare that the mechanism of the

entire universe, including the actions both of Nature and of Man, planned

as it is by Infinite Wisdom, is unequal to its duties, unless that same

Wisdom does from time to time interfere with it. You assert, in fact,

either that Omniscience has been deceived, or that Omnipotence has been

defeated. Surely, they who believe, and whose pride and happiness it is

to believe, that there is a Power above all and before all, knowing all

and creating all, ought not to fall into such a snare as this. They who,

dissatisfied with this little world of sense, seek to raise their minds

to something which the senses are unable to grasp, can hardly fail, on

deeper reflection, to perceive how coarse and material is that

theological prejudice, which ascribes to such a Power the vulgar

functions of a temporal ruler, arrays him in the garb of an earthly

potentate, and represents him as meddling here and meddling there,

uttering threats, inflicting punishments, bestowing rewards. These are

base and grovelling conceptions, the offspring of ignorance and of

darkness. Such gross and sordid notions are but one remove from actual

idolatry. They are the draff and offal of a bygone age, and we will not

have them obtruded here. Well suited they were to those old and barbarous

times, when men, being unable to refine their ideas, were, therefore,

unable to purify their creed. Now, however, they jar upon us; they do not

assimilate with other parts of our knowledge; they are incongruous; their

concord is gone. Every thing is against them. They stand alone; there is

nothing left with which they harmonize. The whole scope and tendency of

modern thought force upon our minds conceptions of regularity and of law,

to which they are diametrically opposed. Even those who cling to them, do

so from the influence of tradition, rather than from complete and

unswerving belief. That child-like and unhesitating faith, with which the

doctrine of interposition was once received, is succeeded by a cold and

lifeless assent, very different from the enthusiasm of former times.

Soon, too, this will vanish, and men will cease to be terrified by

phantoms which their own ignorance has reared. This age, haply, may not

witness the emancipation; but, so surely as the human mind advances, so

surely will that emancipation come. It may come quicker than any one

expects. For, we are stepping on far and fast. The signs of the time are

all around, and they who list may read. The handwriting is on the wall;

the fiat has gone forth; the ancient empire shall be subverted; the

dominion of superstition, already decaying, shall break away, and crumble

into dust; and new life being breathed into the confused and chaotic

mass, it shall be clearly seen, that, from the beginning, there has been

no discrepancy, no incongruity, no disorder, no interruption, no

interference; but that all the events which surround us, even to the

furthest limits of the material creation, are but different parts of a

single scheme, which is permeated by one glorious principle of universal

and undeviating regularity.

INDEX.

Aberdeen, burnt by the Highlanders, iii. 22. Population of, in the

sixteenth century, 28. Linen manufacturers of, 180. The first county

bank in Scotland established in, 181. Tyranny of the Kirk session

of, 222

Abyssinians, their superstition as to the hyæna, i. 126 _note_. Causes

of the corruptions of the Christianity of the, i. 265 _note_

Academies, why favoured in France, ii. 127 _note_

Achenwall, considered to be the first writer on systematic statistics,

i. 33 _note_

Acoustics, creation of the science of, ii. 190

Adam of Bremen, cause of his error as to Turks in Finland, i. 299. His

authority in Northern geography, 299 _note_

Adanson, his botanical discoveries, ii. 397

Addison, Joseph, his establishment of the easy and democratic style of

writing, i. 437 _note_

Advocates, Faculty of, great part of the, expelled from Edinburgh,

iii. 145

Africa, condition of, in the desert of Sahara, i. 47, 48. Causes of its

stationary condition, 49

Agassiz, his classification of fossil ichthyology, ii. 383, 384

Ages, the Dark, ii. 108. Supremacy of the clergy at this period, 108

Agricola, Roman invasion of Scotland under, iii. 7

Agriculture, system of, of the Arabs of Spain, ii. 497

Agriculturists, causes of the superstitions of, i. 376, 379

Air, Boyle's discovery of the law of the elasticity of the, i. 368.

Marriott's confirmation of this law, 368 _note_

Albany, Regent of Scotland, his vigorous measures against the nobles,

iii. 45. Leaves Scotland, 57

Alberoni, his services to Spain, ii. 519, 522, 523

Alexander IV., Pope, his the first formal call to the secular power to

punish heretics, ii. 109 _note_

Alexandrian doctrine of development in religion, ii. 21 _note_

Alfred of Beverley, his abridgment of the history of Geoffrey of

Monmouth, i. 324

Alfred, King, causes of our admiration of, ii. 249 _note_. The

institutions popularly ascribed to him, 249 _note_

Alison, Sir A., his eulogy of William III., i. 403 _note_

Almansa, battle of, ii. 516

Alva, number of persons put to death by, in the Netherlands, ii. 451

Amazon river, extent of the, i. 97 _note_. Area drained by the,

97 _note_. Origin of the name, i. 299 _note_

Amazons, origin in the North of Europe of the fable of the nation of,

i. 298, 299

Amboise, conspiracy of, predominance of the theological spirit shown in

the, ii. 10

Ambrose, St., his statement of the doctrine of predestination,

i. 13 _note_

America, policy of the Spaniards in, in the eighteenth century, ii. 557

America, Central, ancient civilization of, i. 93. Ruins and statues

extant in, 93 _note_. Evidences of the unequal distribution of wealth

in, 94. Question as to the races which formerly inhabited it, 94.

Character of the national religion of, 147

America, North, rivers of importance to be found almost wholly on the

eastern side of, i. 97. Causes of this, 97 _note_. Extent of the Amazon

alone, 97 _note_. Area drained by the Mississippi, 97. The Oregon the

boundary of the Californian flora, 97 _note_. One of the main causes of

the fertility of America, heat, 98. Difference between the heat of the

eastern and western coasts, 98. Early state of the North American

tribes, 99 _note_. Intercourse between the north-east of Asia and the

north-west of America, 99 _note_. Another main cause of fertility of,

irrigation, 97. Calvinism the popular creed of the republics of,

ii. 339

America, South, no great river on the western side of, i. 97, 98.

Difference between the heat and moisture of the eastern and western

coasts of, 100. Way in which the trade-wind is connected with the

civilization of, 103. Physical condition of Brazil, 103-107. And of

Peru, 107 _et seq._ Exuberance of the maize plant in Mexico and Peru,

109. And of the banana, 111. The Mexican and Peruvian kingdoms, and

the effect of the physical laws under which they existed, 113-117

America, United States of. See United States

Anabaptists, number of, put to death in Holland, i. 189 _note_

Anatomy, experiments of Descartes in, ii. 80. State of the study of,

in the reign of Louis XIV., 197 _note_. Daubenton's union of

comparative anatomy with geology, 371. Cuvier's system, 376, 377.

Bichat's labours, 378. Results of the study of the tissues, 383. Value

of the examination of the teeth of animals, 384

Andrews, St., burnt by the English, iii. 14. The University of,

founded, 40 _note_

Aneurism, Hunter's improvement in the practice of, iii. 456

Anglo-Saxons, free men of the, all trained to the use of arms, i. 203

_note_. War and religion the absorbing subjects among the, 204 _note_

Animal life, examination of Bichat's work on, ii. 390

Anne, Queen, effects of her love for the clergy, i. 419. Her want of

abilities, as shown in her letters, 419 _note_

Antichrist, Audigier's statement respecting, ii. 281

Antinomianism, principles of Calvin leading to, ii. 338

Antiquities, study of, i. 2

Antiquity, harm worked by veneration of, i. 134. Marvellous feats of the

ancients as recorded in Sanscrit works, 135. The Hindu poets'

statements as to the duration of life in the early age of the world,

135. Undue reverence for antiquity, ii. 139. Voltaire's attack on the

admiration entertained for old writers, 306

Antonio, Spanish bibliographer, ii. 480

Apostates, number of, produced by religious persecution, i. 189

Aquinas, Thomas, on the doctrine of providential interference, i. 19

Arabs, causes of their permanent barbarism in Arabia, i. 45. Their

foundation of empires in Europe and Asia, 46. Their cultivation of

astronomy, 47 _note_. Their conquests in Spain, ii. 439. The struggles

which ensued between the Spaniards and Arabians, 439. Re-establishment

of the Spanish Christian monarchy, and extinction of the Arab power,

440. Their expulsion from Spain, 485 _et seq._ Number expelled, 494.

Their manufactures and system of husbandry, 497

Aranda, his attacks on the Inquisition, ii. 547

Archery, attempts to revive, in the reign of Elizabeth, i. 205 _note_

Architecture, condition of, in the reign of Louis XIV., ii. 209

Argensola, Spanish poet, ii. 480

Arian controversy, the, at the beginning of the last century, i. 427

Arianism established in Spain by the Visigoths, ii. 434

Aristocracy, commencement of hereditary, in Europe, ii. 112. Reason

why the aristocracy possessed more power in France than in England,

113. Policy of William the Conqueror and of Henry II. in reducing the

power of the nobles, 114 and _note_. Right of the nobles in France to

wage private war, 115. But in England they were glad to ally

themselves with the people against the Crown, 116. Instances of the

power of the French nobles, 128. Effect of the Wars of the Roses upon

the English nobles, 138. Aversion of the aristocracy to innovation,

and reverence for antiquity, 139. Causes of the alliance between the

nobles and clergy, 140. The noble class weakened in the reign of

Elizabeth, 143, 145. Aristocratic characters of the rebellion of 1569,

144. Abeyance of the ducal order, 146. Attempts made by James I. and

Charles I. to revive the power of the nobles, 147. Conduct of the

nobles in the Great English Rebellion, 152. Determination of the

rebels as to the nobles, 153. The House of Peers abolished, 153.

Vanity and imbecility of the French nobles, 162. Instances of this,

164 _et seq._ Arminianism always connected with aristocracy, 339.

Reasons for this, 341. Causes of the power of the nobles of Scotland,

iii. 19. Coalition of the Crown and clergy in Scotland against the

nobles, 34. Ignorance of the Scotch nobles, 40, 41. Causes of the

decline of the power of the Scotch nobles, 162, 167

Aristotle, authority of, overthrown by Descartes, ii. 91, 92

Ark, the, of Auriol, i. 331

Armada, the Spanish, ii. 453

Armies, origin of standing, i. 206, 207, 397. And of the custom of

employing mercenaries, 207. Computation of the proportion of soldiers

to civilians which a country can bear, 208 _note_

Arminianism, connexion of free will with, i. 14. Its feud with

Calvinism, ii. 338. Arminianism always aristocratic, 339. Arminianism

the popular creed in England at the beginning of the seventeenth

century, 339, 340. This doctrine one for the rich, 340. Causes of

this, 341, 342. Arminianism more favourable to the arts than to the

sciences, 342

Armorial bearings, origin of, in Europe, ii. 112

Arran, Earl of, regent of Scotland, iii. 70

Art, condition of, in the reign of Louis XIV., ii. 206-208

Arthur, King, history of, according to Geoffrey of Monmouth, i. 321

Aselli, his discovery of the lacteals, ii. 81

Asia, region of, in which wealth and progress can alone exist, i. 44,

45. The birthplace of almost all the cruel diseases now prevalent in

Europe, 130

Asser, question of the genuineness of his Life of Alfred, ii. 249

Astronomy, the only branch of knowledge raised to a science by the

Arabs, i. 47 _note_. Success with which it was cultivated by the

ancient Mexicans, 112. Encouraged by Louis XIV., ii. 191. His eminent

astronomers not French but foreigners, 191. Newton's discoveries, 191.

Practical astronomy unknown in Scotland in the seventeenth century,

iii. 285 _note_

Atomic theory, importance of the, ii. 364 _note_

Atheism, rise and progress of, in France, ii. 351. Publication of the

'Encyclopædia,' 351. The 'System of Nature,' 351. French atheists in

1623, 95 _note_

Atmosphere, consequences resulting from the weight of the, pointed out

by Descartes, ii. 78

Atomic doctrine, the natural precursor of Platonism, i. 10. The doctrine

of Chance of the atomists, 10

Atterbury, Bishop, his remarks on the condition of the Church in the

time of Anne and George I., i. 442 _note_

Audigier, examination of his 'Origin of the French,' ii. 279

Audra, his 'Abridgment of General History,' suppressed, ii. 238. His

death, 239

Augustin, St., the doctrine of predestination first systematically

methodized by, i. 13

Aurelius, Marcus, the Emperor, causes of his violent persecution of the

Christians, i. 186

Averages, doctrine of, its importance, i. 23 _note_

Avocats-généraux, of the eighteenth century, their functions, ii. 245

_note_

Bacon, Lord, effect of his secular philosophy, i. 329. Translation of

his works into French, ii. 218

Baikal, dangers of the Lake of, and their effect on the Baikal sailors,

i. 376 _note_

Baillou, his advancement of pathology, ii. 195

Bali, Javanese traditions preserved in the island of, i. 306

Ballads the form and groundwork of early history, i. 291. National

bards, 292. Antiquity of rhyme, 293 _note_. General accuracy of the

early ballads, 295 _note_

Balls forbidden by the French Protestants, ii. 70

Banana, extraordinary reproductive powers of the, i. 111. Its nutritive

powers as compared with those of potatoes and wheat, 111

Bangorian controversy, effect of the, i. 427

Bank, the first County, in Scotland, iii. 181

Bannockburn, battle of, iii. 15

Bards known in almost all nations, i. 292, 293. Those of Gaul,

Scotland, and Ireland, 292 _note_. Cause of the extinction of the

class of bards, 296

Bargeton, suppression of the 'Letters' of, ii. 238

Bark, its discredit in France as a 'remède anglais,' ii. 214 _note_

Baron, different meanings attached to the word, ii. 114

Barrow, Isaac, his virtues and abilities, i. 393. Neglect with which

he was treated by Charles II., 393

Barter, misconception of the true nature of barter in early times,

i. 210-212

Bartholomew, St., massacre of, predominance of the theological spirit

shown in the, ii. 11

Basilides, his views of predestination, i. 13 _note_

Baxter, Richard, persecution of, i. 398

Beaton, Archbishop of St. Andrew's, compelled to resign his office of

Chancellor, iii. 57. His conspiracy, 58

Beaton, Cardinal, his persecution of the Protestants, iii. 63.

Arrested, 70. Conspiracy to assassinate him, 73, 74

Beaumarchais, his 'Memoirs' burned, ii. 237

Beauvais, Bishop of, his proposal to the Dutch, ii. 38 _note_

Bedford, Earl of, joins the Parliamentary forces, but deserts them,

ii. 151, 152

Being, obscurities of our, solved by the doctrines of free will and

predestination, i. 12

Benares, cases of suicide by drowning at, i. 26 _note_

Bentham, Jeremy, his demolition of the usury laws, i. 214 _note_. His

method of investigating speculative jurisprudence, i. 426

Bentley, Richard, his corrupt English style, ii. 307

Berkeley, Bishop, his erroneous notions of trade, i. 212 _note_

Berthault, his method of writing history, ii. 270

Berwick, Duke of, appointed Generalissimo of the Spanish army, ii. 515.

Gains the battle of Almansa, 516

Berwick destroyed by the English, iii. 13

Berwick, treaty of, iii. 81

Berzelius, his attempts to reduce mineralogical phenomena, ii. 399

Bichat, impetus given to the study of zoology by, ii. 376. Sketch of

his method of investigation of the human frame, 379. His views

respecting the tissues, 379. Publication of his great work, 380.

Connexion between his views and subsequent discoveries, 380-388.

Immense importance of his method of investigation, 388. Examination of

his work on life, 390

Birmingham, establishment of the first circulating library in, i. 431

_note_. Not a bookseller in the town in the reign of Anne, 422 _note_.

First printing office in, 432 _note_

Bishops, precarious tenure with which they hold their seats in the House

of Lords, i. 418

Black, David, his violent sermon against James VI., iii. 107. Thrown

into prison, 108, 109

Black, Joseph, examination of his theory of latent heat, iii. 367. And

of his method of physical philosophy, 368

Blackburne on 'The Confessional' ferment caused by, i. 428

Blackstone, Sir W., his 'Commentaries' translated into French, ii. 219

Blanca, Florida, prime minister of Spain, his reforms, ii. 548.

Concludes a treaty with Turkey, 549

Blood, discovery of the circulation of the, by Harvey, neglected by

his contemporaries, ii. 80. But recognized by Descartes, 81. Hunter's

discovery as to the red globules of the, iii. 436. Corroboration of

his views after his death, 438

Bodin, John, his character as a historian, i. 326

Boileau, pensioned to write a History of France for Louis XIV., ii. 277

Bombs, invention of, i. 206 _note_

Boncerf, his treatise on 'Feudal Law' burned, ii. 237

Book Clubs and Book Societies, establishment of, i. 433

Books, only use of, i. 267

Boots, the torture of the, iii. 148

Bossuet, Bishop of Meaux, character of his 'Universal History,' ii.

282. Connexion between his opinions and the despotism of Louis XIV.,

289. Character of his writings, 290. His singular arrogance, 290. His

works compared with those of Voltaire, 291

Botany, importance of the study of, ii. 197, 198. First steps in the

study of, 198. Discoveries of the seventeenth century, 199. Nothing

done in France in botanical discovery during the reign of Louis XIV.,

200. Labours of the French in, 395. Göthe's discoveries, 396. Number

of known species, 396 _note_

Botany. The natural method superseding the artificial one of Linnæus,

ii. 397. Jussieu's generalizations, 397, 398. Phyllotaxis, 399 _note_

Boucquet, suppression of the 'Letters' of, ii. 208

Boyle, Robert, his doubts as to the theological and scientific

theories of diseases, i. 128 _note_. Influence of the spirit of

opposition to unsupported authority on, 367. His great discoveries,

368. His view of the importance of individual experiments, and

disregard of ancient authority, 369. His doubts and caution as shown

in his works, 370

Brahmanism, remote period of its establishment in India, i. 301.

Introduction of a form of, into China, 302

Brain, amount of phosphorus in the, i. 57 _note_. Excretion of the

phosphorus under certain circumstances, 57 _note_. Doctrines of the

improvement of the human brain by transmission, 176 _note_

Brazil, causes of the gorgeousness of the fauna and flora of, i. 103,

104. Description of the rainy season of, 103 _note_. Inveterate

barbarism of the natives of, 105 _note_. Smallness of the population

of, 107

Brissot, his knowledge of the English language and literature, ii. 225.

His admiration for the English Constitution, 229

Bristol, Earl of, his notions of political economy, i. 212 _note_

Brougham, Lord, his life of Robert Simson, i. 248 _note_

Browne, Sir Thomas, influence of the spirit of opposition to

unsupported authority on, i. 365. His 'Vulgar and Common Errors' and

'Religio Medici,' 365. His love of botany, 200

Brunfels, his investigations in the vegetable kingdom, ii. 198 _note_

Buchanan, George, character of his works, iii. 183

Buffier, the only Jesuit whose name has a place in abstract philosophy,

ii. 342

Buffon, his knowledge of the English language and literature, ii. 218.

His translations of Newton and Hales, 218. Compelled to publish a

recantation of some of his views on geology, 236. His geological

theory, 368

Burgos, decay of, in the seventeenth century, ii. 503

Burke's, Edmund, his remarks on the decline of the abilities of

official men under George III., i. 449. His great ability and

accomplishments, 455, 456. His practical political principles, 458.

His view of the true end of legislation, 459 _note_. Effect which his

profound views produced in the House of Commons, 460 _note_. His

attack on the delusions of his time, 461. His opposition to the views

of George III., and consequent neglect, 461. His anticipation and

defence of most of the great measures of the present generation, 462,

463. His subsequent hallucinations and violence, 467. His rupture with

Fox, 469. His hostility to Condorcet and La Fayette, 470, 471.

Favoured in his degeneracy by George III., 476, 477

Burnet, Bishop, offer to him of a pension for a history of France,

ii. 277, 278

Caithness seized by the Norwegians, iii. 11

Calderon, his fanaticism for the Inquisition, ii. 481

Californian flora, the Oregon or Columbia river the boundary of the,

i. 97 _note_

Calonne, M., his attack on the church property, ii. 333

Calvin, John, his doctrine of predestination, i. 13

Calvinism, its feud with Arminianism, ii. 338. Calvinism always

democratic, 339. This doctrine one for the poor, 340. Animosity of the

Church of Rome against it, 341. Reasons why it is the doctrine of the

poor, 341, 342. More favourable to the sciences than to the arts, 342.

Reasons why the professors of this religion are likely to acquire

habits of independent thinking, 342, 343. The doctrine of necessity,

343. Alliance of Jansenism with Calvinism, 343

Campbell, Lord, character of his 'Lives of the Chancellors,'

i. 441 _note_

Camus, his Jansenism, ii. 345

Cannibalism in Scotland, iii. 17

Canons, invention of, i. 206 _note_

Capital, Adam Smith's views as to, iii. 327

Carbon, in food, i. 55 _et seq._

Carolan, the last Irish bard, i. 292 _note_

Carra, his familiarity with the English language and literature, ii. 224

Carrillo, Martin, Spanish jurisconsult and historian, ii. 480

Cartaud, suppression of his 'Essay on Taste,' ii. 237

Cartwright, Dr., the nonjuring bishop, i. 412 _note_

Cashmere, rent paid by the cultivator to the sovereign in, i. 76 _note_

Casualties, diminution of, one cause of the increased duration of life,

i. 153

Catholics, Roman, their doctrines compared with those of Protestants,

i. 261. Importance of the Toleration Act to them, 402 _note_. Causes

which led to the feeling in favour of Catholic Emancipation, 426.

Burke's advocacy of Roman Catholic claims, 462. Importance of the

Emancipation Bill, 502. Obligations Europe is under to the Catholic

clergy, ii. 5 _note_. Intolerance of Roman Catholics compared with

that of Protestants, 51. Pliancy of the Roman Church against morals,

and its inflexibility in regard to dogmas, 52 _note_. Theory of

indulgences, 339. Animosity of the Church of Rome against Calvinism,

ii. 341