'Ten years have elapsed' said Dr. Hooker at Norwich in 1868 [Footnote:

President's Address to the British Association.] 'since the

publication of "The Origin of Species by Natural Selection," and it is

therefore not too early now to ask what progress that bold theory has

made in scientific estimation. Since the "Origin" appeared it has

passed through four English editions,' [Footnote: Published by Mr.

John Murray, the English publisher of Virchow's Lecture. Bane and

antidote are thus impartially distributed by the same hand.] two

American, two German, two French, several Russian, a Dutch, and an

Italian edition. So far from Natural Selection being a thing of the

past [the 'Athenaeum' had stated it to be so] it is an accepted

doctrine with almost every philosophical naturalist, including, it

will always be understood, a considerable proportion who are not

prepared to admit that it accounts for all Mr. Darwin assigns to it.'

In the following year, at Innsbruck, Helmholtz took up the same

ground. [Footnote: 'Noch besteht lebhafter Streit um die Wahrheit oder

Wahrscheinlichkeit von Darwin's Theorie; er dreht sich aber doch

eigentlich nur um die Grenzen, welche wir fuer die Veraenderlichkeit

der Arten annehmen duerfen. Dass innerhalb derselben Species erbliche

Racenverschiedenheiten auf die von Darwin beschriebene Weise zu kommen

koennen, ja dass viele der bisher als verschiedene Species derselben

Gattung betrachteten Formen von derselben Urform abstammen, werden

auch seine Gegner kaum leugnen.'--(Populaere Vortraege.)] Another

decade has now passed, and he is simply blind who cannot see the

enormous progress made by the theory during that time. Some of the

outward and visible signs of this advance are readily indicated. The

hostility and fear which so long prevented the recognition of Mr.

Darwin by his own university have vanished, and this year Cambridge,

amid universal acclamation, conferred on him her Doctor's degree. The

Academy of Sciences in Paris, which had so long persistently closed

its doors against Mr. Darwin, has also yielded at last; while sermons,

lectures, and published articles plainly show that even the clergy

have, to a great extent, become acclimatised to the Darwinian air. My

brief reference to Mr. Darwin in the Birmingham Address was based upon

the knowledge that such changes had been accomplished, and were still

going on.

That the lecture of Professor Virchow can, to any practical extent

disturb this progress of public faith in the theory of evolution, I do

not believe. That the special lessons of caution which he inculcates

were exemplified by me, years before his voice was heard upon this

subject, has been proved in the foregoing pages. In point of fact, if

he had preceded me instead of following me, and if my desire had been

to incorporate his wishes in my words, I could not have accomplished

this more completely. It is possible, moreover, to draw the

coincident lines still further, for most of what he has said about

spontaneous generation might have been uttered by me. I share his

opinion that the theory of evolution in its complete form involves the

passage from matter which we now hold to be inorganic into organised

matter; in other words, involves the assumption that at some period or

other of the earth's history there occurred what would be now called

'spontaneous generation.' I agree with him that the proofs of it are

still wanting.' 'Whoever,' he says, recalls to mind the lamentable

failure of all the attempts made very recently to discover a decided

support for the _generatio aequivoca_ in the lower forms of transition

from the inorganic to the organic world will feel it doubly serious to

demand that this theory, so utterly discredited, should be in any way

accepted as the basis of all our views of life.' I hold with Virchow

that the failures have been lamentable, that the doctrine is utterly

discredited. But my position here is so well known that I need not

dwell upon it further.

With one special utterance of Professor Virchow his translator

connects me by name. 'I have no objection,' observes the Professor,

'to your saying that atoms of carbon also possess mind, or that in

their connection with the Plastidule company they acquire mind; only I

do not know how I am to perceive this.' This is substantially what I

had said seventeen years previously in the 'Saturday Review.' The

Professor continues: 'If I explain attraction and repulsion as

exhibitions of mind, as psychical phenomena, I simply throw the Psyche

out of the window, and the Psyche ceases to be a Psyche.' I may say,

in passing, that the Psyche that could be cast out of the window is

not worth houseroom. At this point the translator, who is evidently a

man of culture, strikes in with a foot-note. 'As an illustration of

Professor Virchow's meaning, we may quote the conclusion at which

Doctor Tyndall arrives respecting the hypothesis of a human soul,

offered as an explanation or a simplification of a series of obscure

phenomena--psychical phenomena, as he calls them. "If you are

content to make your soul a poetic rendering of a phenomenon which

refuses the yoke of ordinary physical laws, I, for one, would not

object to this exercise of ideality."' [Footnote: 'Presidential

Address delivered before the Birmingham and Midland Institute, October

1, 1877. Fortnightly Review,' Nov. 1, 1877, p. 60] Professor

Virchow's meaning, I admit, required illustration; but I do not

clearly see how the quotation from me subserves this purpose. I do

not even know whether I am cited as meriting praise or deserving

opprobrium. In a far coarser fashion this utterance of mine has been

dealt with in other places: it may therefore be worth while to spend a

few words upon it.

The sting of a wasp at the finger-end announces itself to the brain as

pain. The impression made by the sting travels, in the first place,

with comparative slowness along the nerves affected; and only when it

reaches the brain have we the fact of consciousness. Those who think

most profoundly on this subject hold that a chemical change, which,

strictly interpreted, is atomic motion, is, in such a case, propagated

along the nerve, and communicated to the brain. Again, on feeling the

sting I flap the insect violently away. What has caused this motion

of my hand? The command from the brain to remove the insect travels

along the motor nerves to the proper muscles, and, their force being

unlocked, they perform the work demanded of them. But what moved the

nerve molecules which unlocked the muscle? The sense of pain, it may

be replied. But how can a sense of pain, or any other state of

consciousness, make matter move? Not all the sense of pain or

pleasure in the world could lift a stone or move a billiard-ball; why

should it stir a molecule? Try to express the motion numerically in

terms of the sensation, and the difficulty immediately appears. Hence

the idea long ago entertained by philosophers, but lately brought into

special prominence, that the physical processes are complete in

themselves, and would go on just as they do if consciousness were not

at all implicated. Consciousness, on this view, is a kind of

by-product inexpressible in terms of force and motion, and unessential

to the molecular changes going on in the brain.

Four years ago, I wrote thus: 'Do states of consciousness enter as

links into the chain of antecedence and sequence, which gives rise to

bodily actions? Speaking for myself, it is certain that I have no

power of imagining such states interposed between the molecules of the

brain, and influencing the transference of motion among the molecules.

The thing "eludes all mental presentation." Hence an iron strength

seems to belong to the logic which claims for the brain an automatic

action uninfluenced by consciousness. But it is, I believe, admitted

by those who hold the automaton theory, that states of consciousness

are produced by the motion of the molecules of the brain; and this

production of consciousness by molecular motion is to me quite as

unpresentable to the mental vision as the production of molecular

motion by consciousness. If I reject one result I must reject both.

I, however, reject neither, and thus stand in the presence of two

Incomprehensibles, instead of one Incomprehensible.' Here I secede

from the automaton theory, though maintained by friends who have all

my esteem, and fall back upon the avowal which occurs with such

wearisome iteration throughout the foregoing pages; namely, my own

utter incapacity to grasp the problem.

This avowal is repeated with emphasis in the passage to which

Professor Virchow's translator draws attention. What, I there

ask, is the causal connection between the objective and the

subjective--between molecular motions and states of consciousness?

My answer is: I do not see the connection, nor am I acquainted with

anybody who does. It is no explanation to say that the objective

and subjective are two sides of one and the same phenomenon.

Why should the phenomenon have two sides? This is the very core

of the difficulty. There are plenty of molecular motions which

do exhibit this two-sidedness. Does water think or feel when it

runs into frost-ferns upon a window pane? If not, why should

the molecular motion of the brain be yoked to this mysterious

companion--consciousness? We can form a coherent picture of all the

purely physical processes--the stirring of the brain, the thrilling of

the nerves, the discharging of the muscles, and all the subsequent

motions of the organism. We are here dealing with mechanical problems

which are mentally presentable.

But we can form no picture of the process whereby consciousness

emerges, either as a necessary link, or as an accidental by-product,

of this series of actions. The reverse process of the production of

motion by consciousness is equally unpresentable to the mind. We are

here in fact on the boundary line of the intellect, where the ordinary

canons of science fail to extricate us. If we are true to these

canons, we must deny to subjective phenomena all influence on physical

processes. The mechanical philosopher, as such, will never place a

state of consciousness and a group of molecules in the relation of

mover and moved. Observation proves them to interact; but, in passing

from the one to the other, we meet a blank which the logic of

deduction is unable to fill. This, the reader will remember, is the

conclusion at which I had arrived more than twenty years ago. I lay

bare unsparingly the central difficulty of the materialist, and tell

him that the facts of observation which he considers so simple are

'almost as difficult to be seized mentally as the idea of a soul.' I go

further, and say, in effect, to those who wish to retain this idea,

'If you abandon the interpretations of grosser minds, who image the

soul as a Psyche which could be thrown out of the window--an entity

which is usually occupied, we know not how, among the molecules of the

brain, but which on due occasion, such as the intrusion of a bullet or

the blow of a club, can fly away into other regions of space--if,

abandoning this heathen notion, you consent to approach the subject in

the only way in which approach is possible--if you consent to make

your soul a poetic rendering of a phenomenon which, as I have taken

more pains than anybody else to show you, refuses the yoke of ordinary

physical laws--then I, for one, would not object to this exercise of

ideality.' I say it strongly, but with good temper, that the

theologian, or the defender of theology, who hacks and scourges me for

putting the question in this light is guilty of black ingratitude.

*****

Notwithstanding the agreement thus far pointed out, there are certain

points in Professor Virchow's lecture to which I should feel inclined

to take exception. I think it was hardly necessary to associate the

theory of evolution with Socialism; it may be even questioned whether

it was correct to do so. As Lange remarks, the aim of Socialism, or

of its extreme leaders, is to overthrow the existing systems of

government, and anything that helps them to this end is welcomed,

whether it be atheism or papal infallibility. For long years the

Socialists saw Church and State united against them, and both were

therefore regarded with a common hatred. But no sooner does a serious

difference arise between Church and State, than a portion of the

Socialists begin immediately to dally with the former. [Footnote:

'Geschichte des Materialismus,' 2e Auflage, vol. ii. p. 538.] The

experience of the last German elections illustrates Lange's position.

Far nobler and truer to my mind than this fear of promoting Socialism

by a scientific theory which the best and soberest heads in the world

have substantially accepted, is the position assumed by Helmholtz, who

in his 'Popular Lectures' describes Darwin's theory as embracing 'an

essentially new creative thought' (einen wesentlich neuen

schoepferischen Gedanken), and who illustrates the greatness of this

thought by copious references to the solutions, previously undreamt

of, which it offers of the enigmas of life and organisation. He

points to the clouds of error and confusion which it has already

dispersed, and shows how the progress of discovery since its first

enunciation is simply a record of the approach of the theory towards

complete demonstration. One point in this 'popular' exposition

deserves especial mention here. Helmholtz refers to the dominant

position acquired by Germany in physiology and medicine, while other

nations have kept abreast of her in the investigation of inorganic

nature. He claims for German men the credit of pursuing with

unflagging and self-denying industry, with purely ideal aims, and

without any immediate prospect of practical utility, the cultivation

of pure science. But that which has determined German superiority in

the fields referred to was, in his opinion, something different from

this. Enquiries into the nature of life are intimately connected with

psychological and ethical questions; and he claims for his countrymen

a greater fearlessness of the consequences which a full knowledge of

the truth may here carry along with it, than reigns among the

enquirers of other nations. And why is this the case? 'England and

France,' he says, 'possess distinguished investigators--men competent

to follow up and illustrate with vigorous energy the methods of

natural science; but they have hitherto been compelled to bend before

social and theological prejudices, and could only utter their

convictions under the penalty of injuring their social influence and

usefulness. Germany has gone forward more courageously. She has

cherished the trust, which has never been deceived, that complete

truth carries with it the antidote against the bane and danger which

follow in the train of half knowledge. A cheerfully laborious and

temperate people--a people morally strong--can well afford to look

truth full in the face. Nor are they to be ruined by the enunciation

of one-sided theories, even when these may appear to threaten the

bases of society.' These words of Helmholtz are, in my opinion, wiser

and more applicable to the condition of Germany at the present moment

than those which express the fears of Professor Virchow. It will be

remembered that at the time of his lecture his chief anxieties were

directed towards France; but France has since that time given ample

evidence of her ability to crush, not only Socialists, but

anti-Socialists, who would impose on her a yoke which she refuses to

bear.

In close connection with these utterances of Helmholtz, I place

another utterance not less noble, which I trust was understood and

appreciated by those to whom it was addressed. 'If,' said the

President of the British Association in his opening address in Dublin,

we could lay down beforehand the precise limits of possible knowledge,

the problem of physical science would be already half solved. But the

question to which the scientific explorer has often to address himself

is, not merely whether he is able to solve this or that problem; but

whether he can so far unravel the tangled threads of the matter with

which he has to deal, as to weave them into a definite problem at

all ... If his eye seem dim, he must look steadfastly and with hope

into the misty vision, until the very clouds wreathe themselves into

definite forms. If his ear seem dull, he must listen patiently and

with sympathetic trust to the intricate whisperings of Nature--the

goddess, as she has been called, of a hundred voices--until here and

there he can pick out a few simple notes to which his own powers can

resound. If, then, at a moment when he finds himself placed on a

pinnacle from which he is called upon to take a perspective survey of

the range of science, and to tell us what he can see from his vantage

ground; if at such a moment after straining his gaze to the very verge

of the horizon, and after describing the most distant of well-defined

objects, he should give utterance also to some of the subjective

impressions which he is conscious of receiving from regions beyond; if

he should depict possibilities which seem opening to his view; if he

should explain why he thinks this a mere blind alley and that an open

path; _then the fault and the loss would be alike ours if we refused to

listen calmly, and temperately to form our own judgment on what we

hear; then assuredly it is we who would be committing the error of

confounding matters of fact with matters of opinion, if we failed to

discriminate between the various elements contained in such a

discourse, and assumed that they had been all put on the same

footing_.'

*****

While largely agreeing with him, I cannot quite accept the setting in

which Professor Virchow places the confessedly abortive attempts to

secure an experimental basis for the doctrine of spontaneous

generation. It is not a doctrine 'so discredited' that some of the

scientific thinkers of England accept 'as the basis of all their

views of life.' Their induction is by no means thus limited. They

have on their side more than the 'reasonable probability' deemed

sufficient by Bishop Butler for practical guidance in the gravest

affairs, that the members of the solar system which are now discrete

once formed a continuous mass; that in the course of untold ages,

during which the work of condensation, through the waste of heat in

space, went on, the planets were detached; and that our present sun is

the residual nucleus of the flocculent or gaseous ball from which the

planets were successively separated. Life, as we define it, was not

possible for aeons subsequent to this separation. When and how did it

appear? I have already pressed this question, but have received no

answer. [Footnote: In the 'Apology for the Belfast Address,' the

question is reasoned out.] If, with Professor Knight, we regard the

Bible account of the introduction of life upon the earth as a poem,

not as a statement of fact, where are we to seek for guidance as to

the fact? There does not exist a barrier possessing the strength of a

cobweb to oppose to the hypothesis, which ascribes the appearance of

life to that 'potency of matter' which finds expression in natural

evolution. [Footnote: 'We feel it an undeniable necessity,' says

Professor Virchow, not to sever the organic world from the whole, as

if it were something disjoined from the whole.' This grave statement

cannot be weakened by the subsequent pleasantry regarding 'Carbon &

Co.']

This hypothesis is not without its difficulties, but they vanish when

compared with those which encumber its rivals. There are various

facts in science obviously connected, and whose connections we are

unable to trace; but we do not think of filling the gap between them

by the intrusion of a separable spiritual agent. In like manner

though we are unable to trace the course of things from the nebula,

when there was no life in our sense, to the present earth where life

abounds, the spirit and practice of science pronounce against the

intrusion of an anthropomorphic creator. Theologians must liberate

and refine their conceptions or be prepared for the rejection of them

by thoughtful minds. It is they, not we, who lay claim to knowledge

never given to man. Our refusal of the creative hypothesis is less an

assertion of knowledge than a protest against the assumption of

knowledge which must long, if not always, lie beyond us, and the claim

to which is a source of perpetual confusion.' At the same time, when I

look with strenuous gaze into the whole problem as far as my

capacities allow, overwhelming wonder is the predominant feeling. This

wonder has come to me from the ages just as much as my understanding,

and it has an equal right to satisfaction. Hence I say, if,

abandoning your illegitimate claim to knowledge, you place, with Job,

your forehead in the dust and acknowledge the authorship of this

universe to be past finding out--if, having made this confession, and

relinquished the views of the mechanical theologian, you desire for

the satisfaction of feelings which I admit to be, in great part, those

of humanity at large, to give ideal form to the Power that moves all

things--it is not by me that you will find objections raised to this

exercise of ideality, if it be only consciously and worthily carried

out.

*****

Again, I think Professor Virchow's position, in regard to the question

of _contagium animatum_, is not altogether that of true philosophy. He

points to the antiquity of the doctrine. 'It is lost,' he says, 'in

the darkness of the middle ages. We have received this name from our

forefathers, and it already appears distinctly in the sixteenth

century. We possess several works of that time which put forward

_contagium animatum_ as a scientific doctrine, with the same confidence,

with the same sort of proof, with which the "Plastidulic soul" is now

set forth.'

These speculations of our 'forefathers' will appeal differently to

different minds. By some they will be dismissed with a sneer; to

others they will appeal as proofs of genius on the part of those who

enunciated them. There are men, and by no means the minority, who,

however wealthy in regard to facts, can never rise into the region of

principles; and they are sometimes intolerant of those who can. They

are formed to plod meritoriously on the lower levels of thought,

unpossessed of the pinions necessary to reach the heights. They cannot

realise the mental act--the act of inspiration it might well be

called--by which a man of genius, after long pondering and proving,

reaches a theoretic conception which unravels and illuminates the

tangle of centuries of observation and experiment. There are minds,

it may be said in passing, who at the present moment stand in this

relation to Mr. Darwin. For my part, I should be inclined to ascribe

to penetration rather than to presumption the notion of a _contagium

animatum_. He who invented the term ought, I think, to be held in

esteem; for he had before him the quantity of fact, and the measure of

analogy, that would justify a man of genius in taking a step so bold.

'Nevertheless,' says Professor Virchow, 'no one was able throughout

a long time to discover these living germs of disease. The sixteenth

century did not find them, nor did the seventeenth, nor the

eighteenth.' But it may be urged, in reply to this, that the theoretic

conjecture often legitimately comes first. It is the forecast of

genius which anticipates the fact and constitutes a spur towards its

discovery. If, instead of being a spur, the theoretic guess rendered

men content with imperfect knowledge, it would be a thing to be

deprecated. But in modern investigation this is distinctly not the

case; Darwin's theory, for example, like the undulatory theory, has

been a motive power and not an anodyne. 'At last,' continues

Professor Virchow, 'in the nineteenth century we have begun little by

little really to find _contagia animata_.' So much the more honour, I

infer, is due to those who, three centuries in advance, so put

together the facts and analogies of contagious disease as to divine

its root and character. Professor Virchow seems to deprecate the

'obstinacy' with which this notion of a _contagium vivum_ emerged. Here

I should not be inclined to follow him; because I do not know, nor

does he tell me, how much the discovery of facts in the nineteenth

century is indebted to the stimulus derived from the theoretic

discussions of preceding centuries. The genesis of scientific ideas

is a subject of profound interest and importance. He would be but a

poor philosopher who would sever modern chemistry from the efforts of

the alchemists, who would detach modern atomic doctrines from the

speculations of Lucretius and his predecessors, or who would claim for

our present knowledge of _contagia_ an origin altogether independent of

the efforts of our 'forefathers' to penetrate this enigma.

*****

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