CHAPTER II.

THE LAW OF EVOLUTION.[8]

§ 42. The class of phenomena to be considered under the title of

Evolution, is in a great measure co-extensive with the class commonly

indicated by the word Progress. But the word Progress is here

inappropriate, for several reasons. To specify these reasons will

perhaps be the best way of showing what is to be understood by

Evolution.

In the first place, the current conception of Progress is shifting and

indefinite. Sometimes it comprehends little more than simple growth—as

of a nation in the number of its members and the extent of territory

over which it has spread. At other times it has reference to quantity of

material products—as when the advance of agriculture and manufactures is

the topic. Now the superior quality of these products is contemplated;

and then the new or improved appliances by which they are produced.

When, again, we speak of moral or intellectual progress, we refer to the

state of the individual or people exhibiting it; while, when the

progress of Knowledge, of Science, of Art, is commented upon, we have in

view certain abstract results of human thought and action. In the

second place, besides being more or less vague, the ordinary idea of

Progress is in great measure erroneous. It takes in not so much the

reality as its accompaniments—not so much the substance as the shadow.

That progress in intelligence seen during the growth of the child into

the man, or the savage into the philosopher, is commonly regarded as

consisting in the greater number of facts known and laws understood;

whereas the actual progress consists in those internal modifications of

which this increased knowledge is the expression. Social progress is

supposed to consist in the produce of a greater quantity and variety of

the articles required for satisfying men’s wants—in the increasing

security of person and property—in widening freedom of action; whereas,

rightly understood, social progress consists in those changes of

structure in the social organism which have entailed these consequences.

The interpretation is a teleological one. The phenomena are contemplated

solely as bearing on human happiness. Only those changes are held to

constitute progress, which directly or indirectly tend to heighten human

happiness. And they are thought to constitute progress simply _because_

they tend to heighten human happiness. In the third place, in

consequence of its teleological implications, the term Progress is

rendered scarcely applicable to a wide range of phenomena which are

intrinsically of the same nature as those included under it. The

metamorphoses of an insect are only by analogy admitted within the scope

of the word, as popularly accepted; though, considered in themselves,

they have as much right there as the changes which constitute

civilization. Having no apparent bearing on human interests, an

increasing complication in the arrangement of ocean-currents, would not

ordinarily be regarded as progress; though really of the same character

as phenomena which are so regarded.

Hence the need for another word. Our purpose here is to analyze the

various class of changes usually considered as Progress, together with

others like them which are not so considered; and to see what is their

intrinsic peculiarity—what is their essential nature apart from their

bearings on our welfare. And that we may avoid the confusion of thought

likely to result from pre-established associations, it will be best to

substitute for the term Progress, the term Evolution. Our question is

then—what is Evolution?

* * * * *

§ 43. In respect to that evolution which individual organisms display,

this question has been answered. Pursuing an idea which Harvey set

afloat, Wolff, Goethe, and Von Baer, have established the truth that the

series of changes gone through during the development of a seed into a

tree, or an ovum into an animal, constitute an advance from homogeneity

of structure to heterogeneity of structure. In its primary stage, every

germ consists of a substance that is uniform throughout, both in texture

and chemical composition. The first step is the appearance of a

difference between two parts of this substance; or, as the phenomenon is

called in physiological language, a differentiation. Each of these

differentiated divisions presently begins itself to exhibit some

contrast of parts; and by and by these secondary differentiations become

as definite as the original one. This process is continuously

repeated—is simultaneously going on in all parts of the growing embryo;

and by endless such differentiations there is finally produced that

complex combination of tissues and organs, constituting the adult animal

or plant. This is the history of all organisms whatever. It is settled

beyond dispute that organic evolution consists in a change from the

homogeneous to the heterogeneous.

Now I propose in the first place to show, that this law of organic

evolution is the law of all evolution. Whether it be in the development

of the Earth, in the development of Life upon its surface, in the

development of Society, of Government, of Manufactures, of Commerce, of

Language, Literature, Science, Art, this same advance from the simple to

the complex, through successive differentiations, holds uniformly. From

the earliest traceable cosmical changes down to the latest results of

civilization, we shall find that the transformation of the homogeneous

into the heterogeneous, is that in which Evolution essentially consists.

* * * * *

§ 44. With the view of showing that _if_ the Nebular Hypothesis be true,

the genesis of the solar system supplies one illustration of this law,

let us assume that the matter of which the sun and planets consist was

once in a diffused form; and that from the gravitation of its atoms

there resulted a gradual concentration. By the hypothesis, the solar

system in its nascent state existed as an indefinitely extended and

nearly homogeneous medium—a medium almost homogeneous in density, in

temperature, and in other physical attributes. The first advance towards

consolidation resulted in a differentiation between the occupied space

which the nebulous mass still filled, and the unoccupied space which it

previously filled. There simultaneously resulted a contrast in density

and a contrast in temperature, between the interior and the exterior of

this mass. And at the same time there arose throughout it, rotatory

movements, whose velocities varied according to their distances from its

centre. These differentiations increased in number and degree until

there was evolved the organized group of sun, planets, and satellites,

which we now know—a group which presents numerous contrasts of structure

and action among its members. There are the immense contrasts between

the sun and the planets, in bulk and in weight; as well as the

subordinate contrasts between one planet and another, and between the

planets and their satellites. There is the similarly marked contrast

between the sun as almost stationary, and the planets as moving round

him with great velocity; while there are the secondary contrasts between

the velocities and periods of the several planets, and between their

simple revolutions and the double ones of their satellites, which have

to move round their primaries while moving round the sun. There is the

yet further strong contrast between the sun and the planets in respect

of temperature; and there is reason to suppose that the planets and

satellites differ from each other in their proper heat, as well as in

the heat they receive from the sun. When we bear in mind that, in

addition to these various contrasts, the planets and satellites also

differ in respect to their distances from each other and their primary;

in respect to the inclinations of their orbits, the inclinations of

their axes, their times of rotation on their axes, their specific

gravities, and their physical constitutions; we see what a high degree

of heterogeneity the solar system exhibits, when compared with the

almost complete homogeneity of the nebulous mass out of which it is

supposed to have originated.

* * * * *

§ 45. Passing from this hypothetical illustration, which must be taken

for what it is worth, without prejudice to the general argument, let us

descend to a more certain order of evidence.

It is now generally agreed among geologists that the Earth was at first

a mass of molten matter; and that it is still fluid and incandescent at

the distance of a few miles beneath its surface. Originally, then, it

was homogeneous in consistence, and, because of the circulation that

takes place in heated fluids, must have been comparatively homogeneous

in temperature; and it must have been surrounded by an atmosphere

consisting partly of the elements of air and water, and partly of those

various other elements which assume a gaseous form at high temperatures.

That slow cooling by radiation which is still going on at an

inappreciable rate, and which, though originally far more rapid than

now, necessarily required an immense time to produce any decided change,

must ultimately have resulted in the solidification of the portion most

able to part with its heat; namely, the surface. In the thin crust thus

formed, we have the first marked differentiation. A still further

cooling, a consequent thickening of this crust, and an accompanying

deposition of all solidifiable elements contained in the atmosphere,

must finally have been followed by the condensation of the water

previously existing as vapour. A second marked differentiation must thus

have arisen; and as the condensation must have taken place on the

coolest parts of the surface—namely, about the poles—there must thus

have resulted the first geographical distinction of parts.

To these illustrations of growing heterogeneity, which, though deduced

from the known laws of matter, may be regarded as more or less

hypothetical, Geology adds an extensive series that have been

inductively established. Its investigations show that the Earth has been

continually becoming more heterogeneous through the multiplication of

the strata which form its crust; further, that it has been becoming more

heterogeneous in respect of the composition of these strata, the latter

of which, being made from the detritus of the older ones, are many of

them rendered highly complex by the mixture of materials they contain;

and that this heterogeneity has been vastly increased by the action of

the Earth’s still molten nucleus upon its envelope: whence have resulted

not only a great variety of igneous rocks, but the tilting up of

sedimentary strata at all angles, the formation of faults and metallic

veins, the production of endless dislocations and irregularities. Yet

again, geologists teach us that the Earth’s surface has been growing

more varied in elevation—that the most ancient mountain systems are the

smallest, and the Andes and Himalayas the most modern; while, in all

probability, there have been corresponding changes in the bed of the

ocean. As a consequence of these ceaseless differentiations, we now find

that no considerable portion of the Earth’s exposed surface is like any

other portion, either in contour, in geologic structure, or in chemical

composition; and that in most parts it changes from mile to mile in all

these characteristics.

Moreover, it must not be forgotten that there has been simultaneously

going on a gradual differentiation of climates. As fast as the Earth

cooled and its crust solidified, there arose appreciable differences in

temperature between those parts of its surface most exposed to the sun

and those less exposed. Gradually, as the cooling progressed, these

differences became more pronounced; until there finally resulted the

marked contrasts between regions of perpetual ice and snow, regions

where winter and summer alternately reign for periods varying according

to the latitude, and regions where summer follows summer with scarcely

an appreciable variation. At the same time, the successive elevations

and subsidences of different portions of the Earth’s crust, tending as

they have done to the present irregular distribution of land and sea,

have entailed various modifications of climate beyond those dependent on

latitude; while a yet further series of such modifications have been

produced by increasing differences of elevation in the land, which have

in sundry places brought arctic, temperate, and tropical climates to

within a few miles of each other. And the general result of these

changes is, that not only has every extensive region its own

meteorologic conditions, but that every locality in each region differs

more or less from others in those conditions: as in its structure, its

contour, its soil.

Thus, between our existing Earth, the phenomena of whose varied crust

neither geographers, geologists, mineralogists nor meteorologists have

yet enumerated, and the molten globe out of which it was evolved, the

contrast in heterogeneity is sufficiently striking.

* * * * *

§ 46. When from the Earth itself we turn to the plants and animals that

have lived, or still live, upon its surface, we find ourselves in some

difficulty from lack of facts. That every existing organism has been

developed out of the simple into the complex, is indeed the first

established truth of all; and that every organism which has existed was

similarly developed, is an inference that no physiologist will hesitate

to draw. But when we pass from individual forms of life to Life in

general, and inquire whether the same law is seen in the _ensemble_ of

its manifestations,—whether modern plants and animals are of more

heterogeneous structure than ancient ones, and whether the Earth’s

present Flora and Fauna are more heterogeneous than the Flora and Fauna

of the past,—we find the evidence so fragmentary, that every conclusion

is open to dispute. Two-thirds of the Earth’s surface being covered by

water; a great part of the exposed land being inaccessible to, or

untravelled by, the geologist; the greater part of the remainder having

been scarcely more than glanced at; and even the most familiar portions,

as England, having been so imperfectly explored, that a new series of

strata has been added within these few years,—it is manifestly

impossible for us to say with any certainty what creatures have, and

what have not, existed at any particular period. Considering the

perishable nature of many of the lower organic forms, the metamorphosis

of many sedimentary strata, and the gaps that occur among the rest, we

shall see further reason for distrusting our deductions. On the one

hand, the repeated discovery of vertebrate remains in strata previously

supposed to contain none,—of reptiles where only fish were thought to

exist,—of mammals where it was believed there were no creatures higher

than reptiles; renders it daily more manifest how small is the value of

negative evidence. On the other hand, the worthlessness of the

assumption that we have discovered the earliest, or anything like the

earliest, organic remains, is becoming equally clear. That the oldest

known aqueous formations have been greatly changed by igneous action,

and that still older ones have been totally transformed by it, is

becoming undeniable. And the fact that sedimentary strata earlier than

any we know, have been melted up, being admitted, it must also be

admitted that we cannot say how far back in time this destruction of

sedimentary strata has been going on. Thus it is manifest that the title

_Palæozoic_, as applied to the earliest known fossiliferous strata,

involves a _petitio principii_; and that, for aught we know to the

contrary, only the last few chapters of the Earth’s biological history

may have come down to us.

All inferences drawn from such scattered facts as we find, must thus be

extremely questionable. If, looking at the general aspect of evidence, a

progressionist argues that the earliest known vertebrate remains are

those of Fishes, which are the most homogeneous of the vertebrata; that

Reptiles, which are more heterogeneous, are later; and that later still,

and more heterogeneous still, are Mammals and Birds; it may be replied

that the Palæozoic deposits, not being estuary deposits, are not likely

to contain the remains of terrestrial vertebrata, which may nevertheless

have existed at that era. The same answer may be made to the argument

that the vertebrate fauna of the Palæozoic period, consisting so far as

we know, entirely of Fishes, was less heterogeneous than the modern

vertebrate fauna, which includes Reptiles, Birds and Mammals, of

multitudinous genera; or the uniformitarian may contend with great show

of truth, that this appearance of higher and more varied forms in later

geologic eras, was due to progressive immigration—that a continent

slowly upheaved from the ocean at a point remote from pre-existing

continents, would necessarily be peopled from them in a succession like

that which our strata display. At the same time the

counter-arguments may be proved equally inconclusive. When, to show that

there cannot have been a continuous evolution of the more homogeneous

organic forms into the more heterogeneous ones, the uniformitarian

points to the breaks that occur in the succession of these forms; there

is the sufficient answer that current geological changes show us why

such breaks must occur, and why, by subsidences and elevations of large

area, there must be produced such marked breaks as those which divide

the three great geologic epochs. Or again, if the opponent of the

development hypothesis cites the facts set forth by Professor Huxley in

his lecture on “Persistent Types”—if he points out that “of some two

hundred known orders of plants, not one is exclusively fossil,” while

“among animals, there is not a single totally extinct class; and of the

orders, at the outside not more than seven per cent. are unrepresented

in the existing creation”—if he urges that among these some have

continued from the Silurian epoch to our own day with scarcely any

change—and if he infers that there is evidently a much greater average

resemblance between the living forms of the past and those of the

present, than consists with this hypothesis; there is still a

satisfactory reply, on which in fact Prof. Huxley insists; namely, that

we have evidence of a “pre-geologic era” of unknown duration. And

indeed, when it is remembered, that the enormous subsidences of the

Silurian period show the Earth’s crust to have been approximately as

thick then as it is now—when it is concluded that the time taken to form

so thick a crust, must have been immense as compared with the time which

has since elapsed—when it is assumed, as it must be, that during this

comparatively immense time the geologic and biologic changes went on at

their usual rates; it becomes manifest, not only that the

palæontological records which we find, do not negative the theory of

evolution, but that they are such as might rationally be looked for.

Moreover, it must not be forgotten that though the evidence suffices

neither for proof nor disproof, yet some of its most conspicuous facts

support the belief, that the more heterogeneous organisms and groups of

organisms, have been evolved from the less heterogeneous ones. The

average community of type between the fossils of adjacent strata, and

still more the community that is found between the latest tertiary

fossils and creatures now existing, is one of these facts. The discovery

in some modern deposits of such forms as the Palæotherium and

Anaplotherium, which, if we may rely on Prof. Owen, had a type of

structure intermediate between some of the types now existing, is

another of these facts. And the comparatively recent appearance of Man,

is a third fact of this kind, which possesses still greater

significance. Hence we may say, that though our knowledge of past life

upon the Earth, is too scanty to justify us in asserting an evolution of

the simple into the complex, either in individual forms or in the

aggregate of forms; yet the knowledge we have, not only consists with

the belief that there has been such an evolution, but rather supports it

than otherwise.

* * * * *

§ 47. Whether an advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is or

is not displayed in the biological history of the globe, it is clearly

enough displayed in the progress of the latest and most heterogeneous

creature—Man. It is alike true that, during the period in which the

Earth has been peopled, the human organism has grown more heterogeneous

among the civilized divisions of the species; and that the species, as a

whole, has been made more heterogeneous by the multiplication of races

and the differentiation of these races from each other. In proof

of the first of these positions, we may cite the fact that, in the

relative development of the limbs, the civilized man departs more widely

from the general type of the placental mammalia, than do the lower human

races. Though often possessing well-developed body and arms, the Papuan

has extremely small legs: thus reminding us of the quadrumana, in which

there is no great contrast in size between the hind and fore limbs. But

in the European, the greater length and massiveness of the legs has

become very marked—the fore and hind limbs are relatively more

heterogeneous. Again, the greater ratio which the cranial bones bear to

the facial bones, illustrates the same truth. Among the vertebrata in

general, evolution is marked by an increasing heterogeneity in the

vertebral column, and more especially in the segments constituting the

skull: the higher forms being distinguished by the relatively larger

size of the bones which cover the brain, and the relatively smaller size

of those which form the jaws, &c. Now, this characteristic, which is

stronger in Man than in any other creature, is stronger in the European

than in the savage. Moreover, judging from the greater extent and

variety of faculty he exhibits, we may infer that the civilized man has

also a more complex or heterogeneous nervous system than the uncivilized

man; and indeed the fact is in part visible in the increased ratio which

his cerebrum bears to the subjacent ganglia. If further elucidation be

needed, we may find it in every nursery. The infant European has sundry

marked points of resemblance to the lower human races; as in the

flatness of the alæ of the nose, the depression of its bridge, the

divergence and forward opening of the nostrils, the form of the lips,

the absence of a frontal sinus, the width between the eyes, the

smallness of the legs. Now, as the developmental process by which these

traits are turned into those of the adult European, is a continuation of

that change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous displayed during

the previous evolution of the embryo, which every physiologist will

admit; it follows that the parallel developmental process by which the

like traits of the barbarous races have been turned into those of the

civilized races, has also been a continuation of the change from the

homogeneous to the heterogeneous. The truth of the second

position—that Mankind, as a whole, have become more heterogeneous—is so

obvious as scarcely to need illustration. Every work on Ethnology, by

its divisions and subdivisions of races, bears testimony to it. Even

were we to admit the hypothesis that Mankind originated from several

separate stocks, it would still remain true that as, from each of these

stocks, there have sprung many now widely different tribes, which are

proved by philological evidence to have had a common origin, the race as

a whole is far less homogeneous than it once was. Add to which, that we

have, in the Anglo-Americans, an example of a new variety arising within

these few generations; and that, if we may trust to the descriptions of

observers, we are likely soon to have another such example in Australia.

* * * * *

§ 48. On passing from Humanity under its individual form, to Humanity as

socially embodied, we find the general law still more variously

exemplified. The change from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, is

displayed equally in the progress of civilization as a whole, and in the

progress of every tribe or nation; and is still going on with increasing

rapidity.

As we see in existing barbarous tribes, society in its first and lowest

form is a homogeneous aggregation of individuals having like powers and

like functions: the only marked difference of function being that which

accompanies difference of sex. Every man is warrior, hunter, fisherman,

tool-maker, builder; every woman performs the same drudgeries; every

family is self-sufficing, and, save for purposes of aggression and

defence, might as well live apart from the rest. Very early, however, in

the process of social evolution, we find an incipient differentiation

between the governing and the governed. Some kind of chieftainship seems

coeval with the first advance from the state of separate wandering

families to that of a nomadic tribe. The authority of the strongest

makes itself felt among a body of savages, as in a herd of animals, or a

posse of school-boys. At first, however, it is indefinite, uncertain; is

shared by others of scarcely inferior power; and is unaccompanied by any

difference in occupation or style of living: the first ruler kills his

own game, makes his own weapons, builds his own hut, and, economically

considered, does not differ from others of his tribe. Gradually, as the

tribe progresses, the contrast between the governing and the governed

grows more decided. Supreme power becomes hereditary in one family; the

head of that family, ceasing to provide for his own wants, is served by

others; and he begins to assume the sole office of ruling. At the

same time there has been arising a co-ordinate species of

government—that of Religion. As all ancient records and traditions

prove, the earliest rulers are regarded as divine personages. The maxims

and commands they uttered during their lives are held sacred after their

deaths, and are enforced by their divinely-descended successors; who in

their turns are promoted to the pantheon of the race, there to be

worshipped and propitiated along with their predecessors: the most

ancient of whom is the supreme god, and the rest subordinate gods. For a

long time these connate forms of government—civil and religious—continue

closely associated. For many generations the king continues to be the

chief priest, and the priesthood to be members of the royal race. For

many ages religious law continues to contain more or less of civil

regulation, and civil law to possess more or less of religious sanction;

and even among the most advanced nations these two controlling agencies

are by no means completely differentiated from each other. Having

a common root with these, and gradually diverging from them, we find yet

another controlling agency—that of Manners or ceremonial usages. All

titles of honour are originally the names of the god-king; afterwards of

God and the king; still later of persons of high rank; and finally come,

some of them, to be used between man and man. All forms of complimentary

address were at first the expressions of submission from prisoners to

their conqueror, or from subjects to their ruler, either human or

divine—expressions that were afterwards used to propitiate subordinate

authorities, and slowly descended into ordinary intercourse. All modes

of salutation were once obeisances made before the monarch and used in

worship of him after his death. Presently others of the god-descended

race were similarly saluted; and by degrees some of the salutations have

become the due of all.[9] Thus, no sooner does the originally

homogeneous social mass differentiate into the governed and the

governing parts, than this last exhibits an incipient differentiation

into religious and secular—Church and State; while at the same time

there begins to be differentiated from both, that less definite species

of government which rides our daily intercourse—a species of government

which, as we may see in heralds’ colleges, in books of the peerage, in

masters of ceremonies, is not without a certain embodiment of its own.

Each of these kinds of government is itself subject to successive

differentiations. In the course of ages, there arises, as among

ourselves, a highly complex political organization of monarch,

ministers, lords and commons, with their subordinate administrative

departments, courts of justice, revenue offices, &c., supplemented in

the provinces by municipal governments, county governments, parish or

union governments—all of them more or less elaborated. By its side there

grows up a highly complex religious organization, with its various

grades of officials from archbishops down to sextons, its colleges,

convocations, ecclesiastical courts, &c.; to all which must be added the

ever-multiplying independent sects, each with its general and local

authorities. And at the same time there is developed a highly complex

aggregation of customs, manners, and temporary fashions, enforced by

society at large, and serving to control those minor transactions

between man and man which are not regulated by civil and religious law.

Moreover, it is to be observed that this ever-increasing heterogeneity

in the governmental appliances of each nation, has been accompanied by

an increasing heterogeneity in the governmental appliances of different

nations: all of which are more or less unlike in their political systems

and legislation, in their creeds and religious institutions, in their

customs and ceremonial usages.

Simultaneously there has been going on a second differentiation of a

more familiar kind; that, namely, by which the mass of the community

has been segregated into distinct classes and orders of workers. While

the governing part has undergone the complex development above

detailed, the governed part has undergone an equally complex

development; which has resulted in that minute division of labour

characterizing advanced nations. It is needless to trace out

this progress from its first stages, up through the caste divisions of

the East and the incorporated guilds of Europe, to the elaborate

producing and distributing organization existing among ourselves.

Political economists have long since indicated the evolution which,

beginning with a tribe whose members severally perform the same

actions, each for himself ends with a civilized community whose

members severally perform different actions for each other; and they

have further pointed out the changes through which the solitary

producer of any one commodity, is transformed into a combination of

producers who, united under a master, take separate parts in the

manufacture of such commodity. But there are yet other and

higher phases of this advance from the homogeneous to the

heterogeneous in the industrial organization of society. Long after

considerable progress has been made in the division of labour among

the different classes of workers, there is still little or no division

of labour among the widely separated parts of the community: the

nation continues comparatively homogeneous in the respect that in each

district the same occupations are pursued. But when roads and other

means of transit become numerous and good, the different districts

begin to assume different functions, and to become mutually dependent.

The calico-manufacture locates itself in this county, the

woollen-manufacture in that; silks are produced here, lace there;

stockings in one place, shoes in another; pottery, hardware, cutlery,

come to have their special towns; and ultimately every locality grows

more or less distinguished from the rest by the leading occupation

carried on in it. Nay, more, this subdivision of functions shows

itself not only among the different parts of the same nation, but

among different nations. That exchange of commodities which free-trade

promises so greatly to increase, will ultimately have the effect of

specializing, in a greater or less degree, the industry of each

people. So that beginning with a barbarous tribe, almost if not

quite homogeneous in the functions of its members, the progress has

been, and still is, towards an economic aggregation of the whole human

race; growing ever more heterogeneous in respect of the separate

functions assumed by separate nations, the separate functions assumed

by the local sections of each nation, the separate functions assumed

by the many kinds of makers and traders in each town, and the separate

functions assumed by the workers united in producing each commodity.

* * * * *

§ 49. Not only is the law thus clearly exemplified in the evolution of

the social organism, but it is exemplified with equal clearness in the

evolution of all products of human thought and action; whether concrete

or abstract, real or ideal. Let us take Language as our first

illustration.

The lowest form of language is the exclamation, by which an entire idea

is vaguely conveyed through a single sound; as among the lower animals.

That human language ever consisted solely of exclamations, and so was

strictly homogeneous in respect of its parts of speech, we have no

evidence. But that language can be traced down to a form in which nouns

and verbs are its only elements, is an established fact. In the gradual

multiplication of parts of speech out of these primary ones—in the

differentiation of verbs into active and passive, of nouns into abstract

and concrete—in the rise of distinctions of mood, tense, person, of

number and case—in the formation of auxiliary verbs, of adjectives,

adverbs, pronouns, prepositions, articles—in the divergence of those

orders, genera, species, and varieties of parts of speech by which

civilized races express minute modifications of meaning—we see a change

from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. And it may be remarked, in

passing, that it is more especially in virtue of having carried this

subdivision of functions to a greater extent and completeness, that the

English language is superior to all others. Another aspect under

which we may trace the development of language, is the differentiation

of words of allied meanings. Philology early disclosed the truth that in

all languages words may be grouped into families having a common

ancestry. An aboriginal name, applied indiscriminately to each of an

extensive and ill-defined class of things or actions, presently

undergoes modifications by which the chief divisions of the class are

expressed. These several names springing from the primitive root,

themselves become the parents of other names still further modified. And

by the aid of those systematic modes which presently arise, of making

derivatives and forming compound terms expressing still smaller

distinctions, there is finally developed a tribe of words so

heterogeneous in sound and meaning, that to the uninitiated it seems

incredible they should have had a common origin. Meanwhile, from other

roots there are being evolved other such tribes, until there results a

language of some sixty thousand or more unlike words, signifying as many

unlike objects, qualities, acts. Yet another way in which language

in general advances from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous, is in the

multiplication of languages. Whether, as Max Müller and Bunsen think,

all languages have grown from one stock, or whether, as some

philologists say, they have grown from two or more stocks, it is clear

that since large families of languages, as the Indo-European, are of one

parentage, they have become distinct through a process of continuous

divergence. The same diffusion over the Earth’s surface which has led to

the differentiation of the race, has simultaneously led to a

differentiation of their speech: a truth which we see further

illustrated in each nation by the peculiarities of dialect found in

separate districts. Thus the progress of Language conforms to the

general law, alike in the evolution of languages, in the evolution of

families of words, and in the evolution of parts of speech.

On passing from spoken to written language, we come upon several classes

of facts, all having similar implications. Written language is connate

with Painting and Sculpture; and at first all three are appendages of

Architecture, and have a direct connexion with the primary form of all

Government—the theocratic. Merely noting by the way the fact that sundry

wild races, as for example the Australians and the tribes of South

Africa, are given to depicting personages and events upon the walls of

caves, which are probably regarded as sacred places, let us pass to the

case of the Egyptians. Among them, as also among the Assyrians, we find

mural paintings used to decorate the temple of the god and the palace of

the king (which were, indeed, originally identical); and as such they

were governmental appliances in the same sense that state-pageants and

religious feasts were. Further, they were governmental appliances in

virtue of representing the worship of the god, the triumphs of the

god-king, the submission of his subjects, and the punishment of the

rebellious. And yet again they were governmental, as being the products

of an art reverenced by the people as a sacred mystery. From the

habitual use of this pictorial representation, there naturally grew up

the but slightly-modified practice of picture-writing—a practice which

was found still extant among the Mexicans at the time they were

discovered. By abbreviations analogous to those still going on in our

own written and spoken language, the most familiar of these pictured

figures were successively simplified; and ultimately there grew up a

system of symbols, most of which had but a distant resemblance to the

things for which they stood. The inference that the hieroglyphics of the

Egyptians were thus produced, is confirmed by the fact that the

picture-writing of the Mexicans was found to have given birth to a like

family of ideographic forms; and among them, as among the Egyptians,

these had been partially differentiated into the _kuriological_ or

imitative, and the _tropical_ or symbolic: which were, however, used

together in the same record. In Egypt, written language underwent a

further differentiation; whence resulted the _hieratic_ and the

_epistolographic_ or _enchorial_: both of which are derived from the

original hieroglyphic. At the same time we find that for the expression

of proper names, which could not be otherwise conveyed, phonetic symbols

were employed; and though it is alleged that the Egyptians never

actually achieved complete alphabetic writing, yet it can scarcely be

doubted that these phonetic symbols occasionally used in aid of their

ideographic ones, were the germs out of which alphabetic writing grew.

Once having become separate from hieroglyphics, alphabetic writing

itself underwent numerous differentiations—multiplied alphabets were

produced: between most of which, however, more or less connexion can

still be traced. And in each civilized nation there has now grown up,

for the representation of one set of sounds, several sets of written

signs, used for distinct purposes. Finally, through a yet more important

differentiation came printing; which, uniform in kind as it was at

first, has since become multiform.

* * * * *

§ 50. While written language was passing through its earlier stages of

development, the mural decoration which formed its root was being

differentiated into Painting and Sculpture. The gods, kings, men, and

animals represented, were originally marked by indented outlines and

coloured. In most cases these outlines were of such depth, and the

object they circumscribed so far rounded and marked out in its leading

parts, as to form a species of work intermediate between intaglio and

bas-relief. In other cases we see an advance upon this: the raised

spaces between the figures being chiselled off, and the figures

themselves appropriately tinted, a painted bas-relief was produced. The

restored Assyrian architecture at Sydenham, exhibits this style of art

carried to greater perfection—the persons and things represented, though

still barbarously coloured, are carved out with more truth and in

greater detail; and in the winged lions and bulls used for the angles of

gateways, we may see a considerable advance towards a completely

sculptured figure; which, nevertheless, is still coloured, and still

forms part of the building. But while in Assyria the production of a

statue proper, seems to have been little, if at all, attempted, we may

trace in Egyptian art the gradual separation of the sculptured figure

from the wall. A walk through the collection in the British Museum will

clearly show this; while it will at the same time afford an opportunity

of observing the evident traces which the independent statues bear of

their derivation from bas-relief: seeing that nearly all of them not

only display that union of the limbs with the body which is the

characteristic of bas-relief, but have the back of the statue united

from head to foot with a block which stands in place of the original

wall. Greece repeated the leading stages of this progress. As in

Egypt and Assyria, these twin arts were at first united with each other

and with their parent, Architecture; and were the aids of Religion and

Government. On the friezes of Greek temples, we see coloured bas-reliefs

representing sacrifices, battles, processions, games—all in some sort

religious. On the pediments we see painted sculptures more or less

united with the tympanum, and having for subjects the triumphs of gods

or heroes. Even when we come to statues that are definitely separated

from the buildings to which they pertain, we still find them coloured;

and only in the later periods of Greek civilization, does the

differentiation of sculpture from painting appear to have become

complete. In Christian art we may clearly trace a parallel

re-genesis. All early paintings and sculptures throughout Europe, were

religious in subject—represented Christs, crucifixions, virgins, holy

families, apostles, saints. They formed integral parts of church

architecture, and were among the means of exciting worship: as in Roman

Catholic countries they still are. Moreover, the early sculptures of

Christ on the cross, of virgins, of saints, were coloured; and it needs

but to call to mind the painted madonnas and crucifixes still abundant

in continental churches and highways, to perceive the significant fact

that painting and sculpture continue in closest connexion with each

other, where they continue in closest connexion with their parent. Even

when Christian sculpture was pretty clearly differentiated from

painting, it was still religious and governmental in its subjects—was

used for tombs in churches and statues of kings; while, at the same

time, painting, where not purely ecclesiastical, was applied to the

decoration of palaces, and besides representing royal personages, was

almost wholly devoted to sacred legends. Only in quite recent times have

painting and sculpture become entirely secular arts. Only within these

few centuries has painting been divided into historical, landscape,

marine, architectural, genre, animal, still-life, &c., and sculpture

grown heterogeneous in respect of the variety of real and ideal subjects

with which it occupies itself.

Strange as it seems then, we find it no less true, that all forms of

written language, of painting, and of sculpture, have a common root in

the politico-religious decorations of ancient temples and palaces.

Little resemblance as they now have, the bust that stands on the

console, the landscape that hangs against the wall, and the copy of the

_Times_ lying upon the table, are remotely akin; not only in nature, but

by extraction. The brazen face of the knocker which the postman has just

lifted, is related not only to the woodcuts of the _Illustrated London

News_ which he is delivering, but to the characters of the _billet-doux_

which accompanies it. Between the painted window, the prayer-book on

which its light falls, and the adjacent monument, there is

consanguinity. The effigies on our coins, the signs over shops, the

figures that fill every ledger, the coat of arms outside the

carriage-panel, and the placards inside the omnibus, are, in common with

dolls, blue-books and paper-hangings, lineally descended from the rude

sculpture-paintings in which the Egyptians represented the triumphs and

worship of their god-kings. Perhaps no example can be given which more

vividly illustrates the multiplicity and heterogeneity of the products

that in course of time may arise by successive differentiations from a

common stock.

Before passing to other classes of facts, it should be observed that the

evolution of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous is displayed not

only in the separation of Painting and Sculpture from Architecture and

from each other, and in the greater variety of subjects they embody; but

it is further shown in the structure of each work. A modern picture or

statue is of far more heterogeneous nature than an ancient one. An

Egyptian sculpture-fresco represents all its figures as on one

plane—that is, at the same distance from the eye; and so is less

heterogeneous than a painting that represents them as at various

distances from the eye. It exhibits all objects as exposed to the same

degree of light; and so is less heterogeneous than a painting which

exhibits different objects, and different parts of each object, as in

different degrees of light. It uses scarcely any but the primary

colours, and these in their full intensity; and so is less heterogeneous

than a painting which, introducing the primary colours but sparingly,

employs an endless variety of intermediate tints, each of heterogeneous

composition, and differing from the rest not only in quality but in

intensity. Moreover, we see in these earliest works a great

uniformity of conception. The same arrangement of figures is perpetually

reproduced—the same actions, attitudes, faces, dresses. In Egypt the

modes of representation were so fixed that it was sacrilege to introduce

a novelty; and indeed it could have been only in consequence of a fixed

mode of representation that a system of hieroglyphics became possible.

The Assyrian bas-reliefs display parallel characters. Deities, kings,

attendants, winged-figures and animals, are severally depicted in like

positions, holding like implements, doing like things, and with like

expression or non-expression of face. If a palm-grove is introduced, all

the trees are of the same height, have the same number of leaves, and

are equidistant. When water is imitated, each wave is a counterpart of

the rest; and the fish, almost always of one kind, are evenly

distributed over the surface. The beards of the kings, the gods, and the

winged-figures, are everywhere similar; as are the manes of the lions,

and equally so those of the horses. Hair is represented throughout by

one form of curl. The king’s beard is quite architecturally built up of

compound tiers of uniform curls, alternating with twisted tiers placed

in a transverse direction, and arranged with perfect regularity; and the

terminal tufts of the bulls’ tails are represented in exactly the same

manner. Without tracing out analogous facts in early Christian

art, in which, though less striking, they are still visible, the advance

in heterogeneity will be sufficiently manifest on remembering that in

the pictures of our own day the composition is endlessly varied; the

attitudes, faces, expressions, unlike; the subordinate objects different

in size, form, position, texture; and more or less of contrast even in

the smallest details. Or, if we compare an Egyptian statue, seated bolt

upright on a block, with hands on knees, fingers outspread and parallel,

eyes looking straight forward, and the two sides perfectly symmetrical

in every particular, with a statue of the advanced Greek or the modern

school, which is asymmetrical in respect of the position of the head,

the body, the limbs, the arrangement of the hair, dress, appendages, and

in its relations to neighbouring objects, we shall see the change from

the homogeneous to the heterogeneous clearly manifested.

* * * * *

§ 51. In the co-ordinate origin and gradual differentiation of Poetry,

Music, and Dancing, we have another series of illustrations. Rhythm in

speech, rhythm in sound, and rhythm in motion, were in the beginning,

parts of the same thing; and have only in process of time become

separate things. Among various existing barbarous tribes we find them

still united. The dances of savages are accompanied by some kind of

monotonous chant, the clapping of hands, the striking of rude

instruments: there are measured movements, measured words, and measured

tones; and the whole ceremony, usually having reference to war or

sacrifice, is of governmental character. In the early records of the

historic races we similarly find these three forms of metrical action

united in religious festivals. In the Hebrew writings we read that the

triumphal ode composed by Moses on the defeat of the Egyptians, was sung

to an accompaniment of dancing and timbrels. The Israelites danced and

sung “at the inauguration of the golden calf. And as it is generally

agreed that this representation of the Deity was borrowed from the

mysteries of Apis, it is probable that the dancing was copied from that

of the Egyptians on those occasions.” There was an annual dance in

Shiloh on the sacred festival; and David danced before the ark. Again,

in Greece the like relation is everywhere seen: the original type being

there, as probably in other cases, a simultaneous chanting and mimetic

representation of the life and adventures of the god. The Spartan dances

were accompanied by hymns and songs; and in general the Greeks had “no

festivals or religious assemblies but what were accompanied with songs

and dances”—both of them being forms of worship used before altars.

Among the Romans, too, there were sacred dances: the Salian and

Lupercalian being named as of that kind. And even in Christian

countries, as at Limoges in comparatively recent times, the people have

danced in the choir in honour of a saint. The incipient separation

of these once united arts from each other and from religion, was early

visible in Greece. Probably diverging from dances partly religious,

partly warlike, as the Corybantian, came the war-dances proper, of which

there were various kinds; and from these resulted secular dances.

Meanwhile Music and Poetry, though still united, came to have an

existence separate from dancing. The aboriginal Greek poems, religious

in subject, were not recited but chanted; and though at first the chant

of the poet was accompanied by the dance of the chorus, it ultimately

grew into independence. Later still, when the poem had been

differentiated into epic and lyric—when it became the custom to sing the

lyric and recite the epic—poetry proper was born. As during the same

period musical instruments were being multiplied, we may presume that

music came to have an existence apart from words. And both of them were

beginning to assume other forms besides the religious. Facts

having like implications might be cited from the histories of later

times and peoples; as the practices of our own early minstrels, who sang

to the harp heroic narratives versified by themselves to music of their

own composition: thus uniting the now separate offices of poet,

composer, vocalist, and instrumentalist. But, without further

illustration, the common origin and gradual differentiation of Dancing,

Poetry, and Music will be sufficiently manifest.

The advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous is displayed not

only in the separation of these arts from each other and from religion,

but also in the multiplied differentiations which each of them

afterwards undergoes. Not to dwell upon the numberless kinds of dancing

that have, in course of time, come into use; and not to occupy space in

detailing the progress of poetry, as seen in the development of the

various forms of metre, of rhyme, and of general organization; let us

confine our attention to music as a type of the group. As argued

by Dr. Burney, and as implied by the customs of still extant barbarous

races, the first musical instruments were, without doubt,

percussive—sticks, calabashes, tom-toms—and were used simply to mark the

time of the dance; and in this constant repetition of the same sound, we

see music in its most homogeneous form. The Egyptians had a lyre with

three strings. The early lyre of the Greeks had four, constituting their

tetrachord. In course of some centuries lyres of seven and eight strings

were employed. And, by the expiration of a thousand years, they had

advanced to their “great system” of the double octave. Through all which

changes there of course arose a greater heterogeneity of melody.

Simultaneously there came into use the different modes—Dorian, Ionian,

Phrygian, Æolian, and Lydian—answering to our keys: and of these there

were ultimately fifteen. As yet, however, there was but little

heterogeneity in the time of their music. Instrumental music during this

period being merely the accompaniment of vocal music, and vocal music

being completely subordinated to words,—the singer being also the poet,

chanting his own compositions and making the lengths of his notes agree

with the feet of his verses; there unavoidably arose a tiresome

uniformity of measure, which, as Dr Burney says, “no resources of melody

could disguise.” Lacking the complex rhythm obtained by our equal bars

and unequal notes, the only rhythm was that produced by the quantity of

the syllables, and was of necessity comparatively monotonous. And

further, it may be observed that the chant thus resulting, being like

recitative, was much less clearly differentiated from ordinary speech

than is our modern song. Nevertheless, considering the extended range of

notes in use, the variety of modes, the occasional variations of time

consequent on changes of metre, and the multiplication of instruments,

we see that music had, towards the close of Greek civilization, attained

to considerable heterogeneity: not indeed as compared with our music,

but as compared with that which preceded it. As yet, however,

there existed nothing but melody: harmony was unknown. It was not until

Christian church-music had reached some development, that music in parts

was evolved; and then it came into existence through a very unobtrusive

differentiation. Difficult as it may be to conceive, _à priori_, how the

advance from melody to harmony could take place without a sudden leap,

it is none the less true that it did so. The circumstance which prepared

the way for it, was the employment of two choirs singing alternately the

same air. Afterwards it became the practice (very possibly first

suggested by a mistake) for the second choir to commence before the

first had ceased; thus producing a fugue. With the simple airs then in

use, a partially harmonious fugue might not improbably thus result; and

a very partially harmonious fugue satisfied the ears of that age, as we

know from still preserved examples. The idea having once been given, the

composing of airs productive of fugal harmony would naturally grow up;

as in some way it _did_ grow up out of this alternate choir-singing. And

from the fugue to concerted music of two, three, four, and more parts,

the transition was easy. Without pointing out in detail the

increasing complexity that resulted from introducing notes of various

lengths, from the multiplication of keys, from the use of accidentals,

from varieties of time, from modulations and so forth, it needs but to

contrast music as it is, with music as it was, to see how immense is the

increase of heterogeneity. We see this if, looking at music in its

_ensemble_, we enumerate its many different genera and species—if we

consider the divisions into vocal, instrumental, and mixed; and their

subdivisions into music for different voices and different

instruments—if we observe the many forms of sacred music, from the

simple hymn, the chant, the canon, motet, anthem, &c., up to the

oratorio; and the still more numerous forms of secular music, from the

ballad up to the serenata, from the instrumental solo up to the

symphony. Again, the same truth is seen on comparing any one sample of

aboriginal music with a sample of modern music—even an ordinary song for

the piano; which we find to be relatively highly heterogeneous, not only

in respect of the varieties in the pitch and in the length of the notes,

the number of different notes sounding at the same instant in company

with the voice, and the variations of strength with which they are

sounded and sung, but in respect of the changes of key, the changes of

time, the changes of _timbre_ of the voice, and the many other

modifications of expression. While between the old monotonous

dance-chant and a grand opera of our own day, with its endless

orchestral complexities and vocal combinations, the contrast in

heterogeneity is so extreme that it seems scarcely credible that the one

should have been the ancestor of the other.

* * * * *

§ 52. Were they needed, many further illustrations might be cited. Going

back to the early time when the deeds of the god-king, chanted and

mimetically represented in dances round his altar, were further narrated

in picture-writings on the walls of temples and palaces, and so

constituted a rude literature, we might trace the development of

Literature through phases in which, as in the Hebrew Scriptures it

presents in one work, theology, cosmogony, history, biography, civil

law, ethics, poetry; through other phases in which, as in the Iliad, the

religious, martial, historical, the epic, dramatic, and lyric elements

are similarly commingled; down to its present heterogeneous development,

in which its divisions and subdivisions are so numerous and varied as to

defy complete classification. Or we might track the evolution of

Science: beginning with the era in which it was not yet differentiated

from Art, and was, in union with Art, the handmaid of Religion; passing

through the era in which the sciences were so few and rudimentary, as to

be simultaneously cultivated by the same philosophers; and ending with

the era in which the genera and species are so numerous that few can

enumerate them, and no one can adequately grasp even one genus. Or we

might do the like with Architecture, with the Drama, with Dress. But

doubtless the reader is already weary of illustrations; and my promise

has been amply fulfilled. I believe it has been shown beyond question,

that that which the German physiologists have found to be the law of

organic development, is the law of all development. The advance from the

simple to the complex, through a process of successive differentiations,

is seen alike in the earliest changes of the Universe to which we can

reason our way back, and in the earliest changes which we can

inductively establish; it is seen in the geologic and climatic evolution

of the Earth, and of every single organism on its surface; it is seen in

the evolution of Humanity, whether contemplated in the civilized

individual, or in the aggregation of races; it is seen in the evolution

of Society, in respect alike of its political, its religious, and its

economical organization; and it is seen in the evolution of all those

endless concrete and abstract products of human activity, which

constitute the environment of our daily life. From the remotest past

which Science can fathom, up to the novelties of yesterday, that in

which Evolution essentially consists, is the transformation of the

homogeneous into the heterogeneous.

-----

Footnote 8:

The substance of this chapter is nearly identical with the first half

of an essay on “Progress: its Law and Cause,” which was originally

published in the _Westminster Review_ for April 1857: only a few

unimportant additions and alterations have been made. The succeeding

chapter, however, in which the subject is continued, is, with the

exception of a fragment embodied in it, wholly new.

Footnote 9:

For detailed proof of these assertions see essay on _Manners and

Fashion_.

First Principles · 第 2 / 17 章