In the social organism integrative changes are not less clearly and abundantly exemplified. Uncivilized societies display them when wandering families, such as the bushmen show us, unite into tribes of considerable numbers. Among these we see a further progress of like nature everywhere manifested in the subjugation of weaker tribes by stronger ones; and in the subordination of their respective chiefs to the conquering chief. The partial combinations thus resulting, which among aboriginal races are being continually formed and continually broken up, become, among the superior races, both more complete and more permanent. If we trace the metamorphoses through which our own society, or any adjacent one, has passed, we see this unification from time to timerepeated on a larger scale and with increasing stability. The aggregation of juniors and the children of juniors under elders and the children of elders; the consequent establishment of groups of vassals bound to their respective nobles; the subordination afterwards established of groups of inferior nobles to dukes or earls; and the still later establishment of the kingly power over dukes or earls; are so many instances of increasing consolidation. This process through which petty tenures are combined into feuds, feuds into provinces, provinces into kingdoms, and finally contiguous kingdoms into a single one, slowly completes itself by destroying the original lines of demarcation. And it may be further remarked of the European nations as a whole, that in the tendency to form alliances more or less lasting, in the restraining influences exercised by the several governments over each other, in the system that is gradually establishing itself of settling international disputes by congresses, as well as in the breaking down of commercial barriers and the increasing facilities of communication, we may trace the incipient stage of a European confederation—a still larger integration than any now established. But it is not only in these external unions of groups with groups, and of the compound groups with each other, that the general law is exemplified. It is exemplified also in unions that take place internally, as the groups become more highly organized. These, of which the most conspicuous are commercial in their origin and function, are well illustrated in our own society. We have integrations consequent on the simple growth of adjacent parts performing like functions: as, for instance, the junction of Manchester with its calico-weaving suburbs. We have other integrations that arise when, out of several places producing a particular commodity, one monopolizes more and more of the business, and leaves the rest to dwindle: as witness the growth of the Yorkshire cloth-districts at the expense of those in the west of England; or the absorption by Staffordshire of the pottery-manufacture, and the consequent decayof the establishments that once flourished at Worcester, Derby, and elsewhere. And we have those yet other integrations produced by the actual approximation of the similarly-occupied parts: whence result such facts as the concentration of publishers in Paternoster Row; of lawyers in the Temple and neighbourhood; of corn-merchants about Mark Lane; of civil engineers in Great George Street; of bankers in the centre of the city. Industrial combinations that consist, not in the approximation or fusion of parts, but in the establishment of common centres of connexion, are exhibited in the Bank clearing-house and the Railway clearing-house. While of yet another genus are those unions which bring into relation the more or less dispersed citizens who are occupied in like ways: as traders are brought by the Exchange and the Stock-Exchange; and as are professional men by institutes, like those of Civil Engineers, Architects, &c.
Here, as before, it is manifest that a law of Evolution which holds of organisms, must hold too of all objective results of their activity; and that hence Language, and Science, and Art, must not only in the course of their development display increasing heterogeneity and definiteness, but also increasing integration. We shall find this conclusion to be in harmony with the facts.
Among uncivilized races, the many-syllabled terms used for not uncommon objects, as well as the descriptive character of proper names, show us that the words used for the less familiar things are formed by compounding the words used for the more familiar things. This process of composition is sometimes found in its incipient stage—a stage in which the component words are temporarily united to signify some unnamed object, and do not (from lack of frequent use) permanently cohere. But in the majority of inferior languages, the process of “agglutination,” as it is called, has gone far enough to produce considerable stability in the compound words: there is a manifest integration. How small is the degree of this integration, however, when compared with that reached in well-developedlanguages is shown both by the great length of the compound words used for things and acts of constant occurrence, and by the separableness of their elements. Certain North-American tongues very well illustrate this. In a Ricaree vocabulary extending to fifty names of common objects, which in English are nearly all expressed by single syllables, there is not one monosyllabic word; and in the nearly-allied vocabulary of the Pawnees, the names for these same common objects are monosyllabic in but two instances. Things so familiar to these hunting tribes asdogandbow, are, in the Pawnee language,ashakishandteeragish; thehandand theeyesare respectivelyiksheereeandkeereekoo; fordaythe term isshakoorooeeshairet, and fordevilit istsaheekshkakooraiwah; while the numerals are composed of from two syllables up to five, and in Ricaree up to seven. That the great length of these familiar words implies a low degree of development, and that in the formation of higher languages out of lower there is a progressive integration, which reduces the polysyllables to dissyllables and monosyllables, is an inference fully confirmed by the history of our own language. Anglo-Saxonsteorrahas been in course of time consolidated into Englishstar,monaintomoon, andnamaintoname. The transition through the intermediate semi-Saxon is clearly traceable.Sunubecame in semi-Saxonsune, and in Englishson: the finaleofsunebeing an evanescent form of the originalu. The change from the Anglo-Saxon plural, formed by the distinct syllableas, to our plural formed by the appended consonants, shows us the same thing:smithasin becomingsmiths, andendasin becomingends, illustrate progressive coalescence. So too does the disappearance of the terminalanin the infinitive mood of verbs; as shown in the transition from the Anglo-Saxoncumanto the semi-Saxoncumme, and to the Englishcome. Moreover the process has been slowly going on, even since what we distinguish as English was formed. In Elizabeth’s time, verbs were still very frequently pluralized by the addition ofen—wetellwas wetellen; and in some rural districts this form of speech may even now be heard. In like manner the terminaledof the past tense, has united with the word it modifies.Burn-edhas in pronunciation becomeburnt; and even in writing the terminalthas in some cases taken the place of theed. Only where antique forms in general are adhered to, as in the church-service, is the distinctness of this inflection still maintained. Further, we see that the compound vowels have been in many cases fused into single vowels. That inbreadtheeandawere originally both sounded, is proved by the fact that they are still so sounded in parts where old habits linger. We, however, have contracted the pronunciation intobred; and we have made like changes in many other common words. Lastly, let it be noted that where the frequency of repetition is greatest, the process is carried furthest; as instance the contraction oflord(originallylaford) intoludin the mouths of Barristers; and still better the coalescence ofGod be with youintoGood bye. Besides exhibiting in this way the integrative process, Language equally exhibits it throughout all grammatical development. The lowest kinds of human speech, having merely nouns and verbs without inflections to them, manifestly permit no such close union of the elements of a proposition as results when the relations are either marked by inflections or by words specially used for purposes of connexion. Such speech is necessarily what we significantly call “incoherent.” To a considerable extent, incoherence is seen in the Chinese language. “If, instead of sayingI gotoLondon,figs comefromTurkey,the sun shinesthroughthe air, we said,I goendLondon,figs comeoriginTurkey,the sun shinespassageair, we should discourse of the manner of the Chinese.” From this “aptotic” form, there is clear evidence of a transition by coalescence to a form in which the connexions of words are expressed by the addition to them of certain inflectional words. “In Languages like the Chinese,” remarks Dr Latham, “the separate words most in use to express relation may becomeadjuncts or annexes.” To this he adds the fact that “the numerous inflexional languages fall into two classes. In one, the inflexions have no appearance of having been separate words. In the other, their origin as separate words is demonstrable.” From which the inference drawn is, that the “aptotic” languages, by the more and more constant use of adjuncts, gave rise to the “agglutinate” languages, or those in which the original separateness of the inflexional parts can be traced; and that out of these, by further use, arose the “amalgamate” languages, or these in which the original separateness of the inflexional parts can no longer be traced. Strongly corroborative of this inference is the unquestionable fact, that by such a process there have grown out of the amalgamate languages, the “anaptotic” languages; of which our own is the most perfect example—languages in which, by further consolidation, inflexions have almost disappeared, while, to express the verbal relations, certain new kinds of words have been developed. When we see the Anglo-Saxon inflexions gradually lost by contraction during the development of English, and, though to a less degree, the Latin inflexions dwindling away during the development of French, we cannot deny that grammatical structure is modified by integration; and seeing how clearly the earlier stages of grammatical structure are explained by it, we can scarcely doubt that it has been going on from the first. And now mark that in proportion to the degree of the integration above described, is the extent to which integration of another order is shown. Aptotic languages are, as already pointed out, necessarily incoherent—the elements of a proposition cannot be tied into a definite and complete whole. But as fast as coalescence produces inflected words, it becomes possible to unite them into sentences of which the parts are so mutually dependent that no considerable change can be made without destroying the meaning. Yet a further stage in this process may be noted. After the development of those grammatical forms which make definite statements possible, we do not atfirst find them used to express anything beyond statements of a simple kind. A single subject with a single predicate, accompanied by but few qualifying terms, are usually all. If we compare, for instance, the Hebrew scriptures with writings of modern times, a marked difference of aggregation among the groups of words, is visible. In the number of subordinate propositions which accompany the principal one; in the various complements to subjects and predicates; and in the numerous qualifying clauses—all of them united into one complex whole—many sentences in modern composition exhibit a degree of integration not to be found in ancient ones.
The history of Science presents facts of the same meaning at every step. Indeed the integration of groups of like entities and like relations, may be said to constitute the most conspicuous part of scientific progress. A glance at the classificatory sciences, shows us not only that the confused aggregations which the vulgar make of natural objects, are differentiated into groups that are respectively more homogeneous, but also that these groups are gradually rendered complete and compact. While, instead of considering all marine creatures as fish, shell-fish, and jelly-fish, Zoology establishes divisions and sub-divisions under the headsVertebrata,Annulosa,Mollusca, &c.—while in place of the wide and vague assemblage popularly described as “creeping things,” it makes the specific classesAnnelida,Myriopoda,Insecta,Arachnida; it at the same time gives to these an increasing consolidation. The several orders and genera of which each consists, are arranged according to their affinities and bound together under common definitions; at the same time that, by extended observation and rigorous criticism, the previously unknown and undetermined forms are integrated with their respective congeners. Nor is the same process less clearly manifested in those sciences which have for their subject-matter, not classified objects, but classified relations. Under one of its chief aspects, the advance of Science is the advance of generalization; and generalization is theuniting into groups all like co-existencies and sequences among phenomena. Not only, however, does the colligation of a number of concrete relations into a generalization of the lowest order, exemplify the principle enunciated; but it is again and again exemplified in the colligation of these lowest generalizations into higher ones, and these into still higher ones. Year by year are established certain connexions among orders of phenomena that seem wholly unallied; and these connexions, multiplying and strengthening, gradually bring the seemingly unallied orders under a common bond. When, for example, Humboldt quotes the saying of the Swiss—“it is going to rain because we hear the murmur of the torrents nearer,”—when he remarks the relation between this and an observation of his own, that the cataracts of the Orinoco are heard at a greater distance by night than by day—when he notes the essential parallelism existing between these facts and the fact that the unusual visibility of remote objects is also an indication of coming rain—and when he points out that the common cause of these variations is the smaller hindrance offered to the passage of both light and sound, by media which are comparatively homogeneous, either in temperature or hygrometric state; he helps in bringing under one generalization the phenomena of light and those of sound. Experiment having shown that these conform to like laws of reflection and refraction, the conclusion that they are both produced by undulations gains probability: there is an incipient integration of two great orders of phenomena, between which no connexion was suspected in times past. A still more decided integration has been of late taking place between the once independent sub-sciences of Electricity, Magnetism, and Light. And indeed it must be obvious to those who are familiar with the present state of Science, that there will eventually take place a far wider integration, by which all orders of phenomena will be combined as differently conditioned forms of one ultimate fact.
Nor do the industrial and æsthetic Arts fail to supply uswith equally conclusive evidence. The progress from rude, small, and simple tools, to perfect, complex, and large machines, illustrates not only a progress in heterogeneity and in definiteness, but also in integration. Among what are classed as the mechanical powers, the advance from the lever to the wheel-and-axle is an advance from a simple agent to an agent made up of several simple ones combined together. On comparing the wheel-and-axle, or any of the machines used in early times with those used now, we find an essential difference to be, that in each of our machines several of the primitive machines are united into one. A modern apparatus for spinning or weaving, for making stockings or lace, contains not simply a lever, an inclined plane, a screw, a wheel-and-axle, united together; but several of each integrated into one complex whole. Again, in early ages, when horse-power and man-power were alone employed, the motive agent was not bound up with the tool moved; but the two have now become in many cases fused together: the fire-box and boiler of a locomotive are combined with the machinery which the steam works. Nor is this the most extreme case. A still more extensive integration is exhibited in every large factory. Here we find a large number of complicated machines, all connected by driving shafts with the same steam-engine—all united with it into one vast apparatus. Contrast the mural decorations of the Egyptians and Assyrians with modern historical paintings, and there becomes manifest a great advance in unity of composition—in the subordination of the parts to the whole. One of these ancient frescoes is in truth made up of a number of pictures that have little mutual dependence. The several figures of which each group consists, show very imperfectly by their attitudes, and not at all by their expressions, the relations in which they stand to each other; the respective groups might be separated with but little loss of meaning; and the centre of chief interest, which should link all parts together, is often inconspicuous. The same traitmay be noted in the tapestries of medieval days. Representing perhaps a hunting scene, one of these exhibits men, horses, dogs, beasts, birds, trees, and flowers, miscellaneously dispersed: the living objects being variously occupied, and mostly with no apparent consciousness of each other’s proximity. But in the paintings since produced, faulty as many of them are in this respect, there is always a more or less manifest co-ordination of parts—an arrangement of attitudes, expressions, lights, and colours, such as to combine the picture into an organic whole; and the success with which unity of effect is educed from variety of components, is a chief test of merit. In music, progressive integration is displayed in still more numerous ways. The simple cadence embracing but a few notes, which in the chants of savages is monotonously repeated, becomes among civilized races, a long series of different musical phrases combined into one whole; and so complete is the integration, that the melody cannot be broken off in the middle, nor shorn of its final note, without giving us a painful sense of incompleteness. When to the air, a bass, a tenor, and an alto are added; and when to the harmony of different voice-parts there is added an accompaniment; we see exemplified integrations of another order, which grow gradually more elaborate. And the process is carried a stage higher when these complex solos, concerted pieces, choruses, and orchestral effects, are combined into the vast ensemble of a musical drama; of which, be it remembered, the artistic perfection largely consists in the subordination of the particular effects to the total effect. Once more the Arts of literary delineation, narrative and dramatic, furnish us with parallel illustrations. The tales of primitive times, like those with which the story-tellers of the East still daily amuse their listeners, are made up of successive occurrences that are not only in themselves unnatural, but have no natural connexion: they are but so many separate adventures put together without necessary sequence. But in a good modern work of imagination, the events are the properproducts of the characters working under given conditions; and cannot at will be changed in their order or kind, without injuring or destroying the general effect. And further, the characters themselves, which in early fictions play their respective parts without showing us how their minds are modified by each other or by the events, are now presented to us as held together by complex moral relations, and as acting and re-acting upon each other’s natures.
Evolution, then, is in all cases a change from a more diffused or incoherent form, to a more consolidated or coherent form. This proves to be a characteristic displayed equally in those earliest changes which the Universe as a whole is supposed to have undergone, and in those latest changes which we trace in society and the products of social life. Nor is it only that in the development of a planet, of an organism, of a society, of a science, of an art, the process of integration is seen in a more complete aggregation of each whole and of its constituent parts; but it is also shown in an increasing mutual dependence of the parts. Dimly foreshadowed as this mutual dependence is among inorganic phenomena, both celestial and terrestrial, it becomes distinct among organic phenomena. From the lowest living forms upwards, the degree of development is marked by the degree in which the several parts constitute a mutually-dependent whole. The advance from those creatures which live on in each part when cut in pieces, up to those creatures which cannot lose any considerable part without death, nor any inconsiderable part without great constitutional disturbance, is clearly an advance to creatures which are not only more integrated in respect of their solidification, but are also more integrated as consisting of organs that live for and by each other. The like contrast between undeveloped and developed societies, need not be shown in detail: the ever-increasing co-ordination of parts, is conspicuous to all. And it must suffice just to indicate that the same thing holds true of social products: as, for instance, of Science; which has becomehighly integrated not only in the sense that each division is made up of mutually-dependent propositions, but also in the sense that the several divisions are mutually-dependent—cannot carry on their respective investigations without aid from each other.
It seems proper to remark that the generalization here variously illustrated, is akin to one enunciated by Schelling, that Life is the tendency to individuation. Struck by the fact that an aggregative process is traceable throughout nature, from the growth of a crystal up to the development of a man; and by the fact that the wholes resulting from this process, completer in organic than in inorganic bodies, are completest where the vital manifestations are the highest; Schelling concluded that this characteristic was the essential one. According to him, the formation of individual bodies is not incident to Life, but is that in which Life fundamentally consists. This position is, for several reasons, untenable. In the first place, it requires the conception of Life to be extended so as to embrace inorganic phenomena; since in crystallization, and even in the formation of amorphous masses of matter, this tendency to individuation is displayed. Schelling, fully perceiving this, did indeed accept the implication; and held that inorganic bodies had life lower only in degree than that of organic bodies—their degree of life being measured by their degree of individuation. This bold assumption, which Schelling evidently made to save his definition, is inadmissible. Rational philosophy cannot ignore those broad distinctions which the general sense of mankind has established. If it transcends them, it must at the same time show what is their origin; how far only they are valid; and why they disappear from a higher point of view. Note next that the more complete individuality which Schelling pointed out as characterizing bodies having the greatest amount of life, is onlyoneof their structural traits. The greater degree of heterogeneity which they exhibit, is, as we have seen, amuch more conspicuous peculiarity; and though it might possibly be contended that greater heterogeneity is remotely implied by greater individuality, it must be admitted that in defining Life as the tendency to individuation, no hint is given that the bodies which live most are the most heterogeneous bodies. Moreover it is to be remarked that this definition of Schelling, refers much more to the structures of living bodies than to the processes which constitute Life. Not Life, but the invariable accompaniment of Life, is that which his formula alone expresses. The formation of a completer organic whole, a more fully individuated body, is truly a necessary concomitant of a higher life; and the development of a higher life must therefore be accompanied by a tendency to greater individuation. But to represent this tendency as Life itself, is to mistake an incidental result for an original cause. Life, properly so called, consists of multiform changes united together in various ways; and is not expressed either by an anatomical description of the organism which manifests it, or by a history of the modifications through which such organism has reached its present structure. Yet it is only in such description and such history that the tendency to individuation is seen. Lastly, this definition which Schelling gave of Life is untenable, not only because it refers rather to the organism than to the actions going on in it; but also because it wholly ignores that connexion between the organism and the external world, on which Life depends. All organic processes, physical and psychial, having for their object the maintenance of certain relations with environing agencies and objects; it is impossible that there should be a true definition of Life, in which the environment is not named. Nevertheless, Schelling’s conception was not a baseless one. Though not a truth, it was yet the adumbration of a truth. In defining Life as the tendency to individuation, he had in view that formation of a more compact, complete, and mutually-dependent whole, which, as we have seen, is one characteristic of Evolution in general. Hiserror was, firstly, in regarding it as a characteristic of Life, instead of a characteristic of living bodies, displayed, though in a less degree, by other bodies; and, secondly, in regarding it as the sole characteristic of such bodies. It remains only to add, that for expressing this aspect of the process of Evolution, the word integration is for several reasons preferable to the word individuation. Integration is the true antithesis of differentiation; it has not that tacit reference to living bodies which the word individuation cannot be wholly freed from; it expresses the aggregative tendency not only as displayed in the formation of more complete wholes, but also as displayed in the consolidation of the several parts of which such wholes are made up; and it has not the remotest teleological implication. In short, it simply formulates in the most abstract manner, a wide induction untainted by any hypothesis.
§ 57. Thus we find that to complete the definition arrived at in the last chapter, much has to be added. What was there alleged is true; but it is not the whole truth. Evolution is unquestionably a change from a homogeneous state to a heterogeneous state; but, as we have seen, there are some advances in heterogeneity which cannot be included in the idea of Evolution. This undue width of the definition, implies the omission of some further peculiarity by which Evolution is distinguished; and this peculiarity we find to be that the more highly developed things become, the more definite they become. Advance from the indefinite to the definite, is as constantly and variously displayed as advance from the homogeneous to the heterogeneous. And we are thus obliged to regard it as an essential characteristic of Evolution. Further analysis, however, shows us that this increase of definiteness is not an independent process; but is rather the necessary concomitant of another process. A very little consideration of the facts proves that a change from the indefinite to the definite, can arise only through acompleter consolidation of the respective parts, and of the whole which they constitute. And so we find that while Evolution is a transformation of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous, and of the indefinite into the definite, it is also a transformation of the incoherent into the coherent. Along with the differentiation shown in increasing contrasts of parts with each other, there goes on an integration, by which the parts are rendered distinct units, as well as closely united components of one whole. These clauses here added to the definition, are essential ones; not only as being needful to distinguish Evolution from that which is not Evolution, but likewise as being needful to express all which the idea of Evolution includes. Progressive integration with the growing definiteness necessarily resulting from it, is of co-ordinate importance with the progressive differentiation before dwelt upon—nay, from one point of view, may be held of greater importance. For organization, in which what we call Evolution is most clearly and variously displayed, consists even more in the union of many parts into one whole, than in the formation of many parts. The Evolution which we see throughout inorganic nature, is lower than that which organic nature exhibits to us, for the especial reason that the mutual dependence of parts is extremely indefinite, even when traceable at all. In an amorphous mass of matter, you may act mechanically or chemically upon one part without appreciably affecting the other parts. Though their electrical or thermal states may be for the moment altered, their original states are soon resumed. Even in the highest inorganic aggregation—a crystal—the apex may be broken off and leave the rest intact: the only clear evidence of mutual dependence of parts, being, the ability of the crystal to regenerate its apex if replaced in the solution from which it was formed. But the constituent parts of organic bodies can severally maintain their existing states, only while remaining in connexion. Even in the lowest living forms, mutilation cannot be carried beyond a certain point without decomposition ensuing. As we advance throughthe higher up to the highest forms, we see a gradual narrowing of the limits within which the mutilation does not cause destruction: a progressive increase of mutual dependence or integration which is, at the same time, the condition to greater functional perfection. In societies this truth is equally manifest. That the component units slowly segregate into groups of different ranks and occupations, is a fact scarcely more conspicuous than is the fact that these groups are necessary to each other’s existence. And we cannot contemplate the still-progressing division of labour, without seeing that the interdependence becomes ever greater as the evolution becomes higher. It remains only to point out definitely, what has been already implied, that these several forms of change which have been successively described as making up the process of Evolution, are not in reality separate forms of change, but different aspects of the same change. Intrinsically the transformation is one and indivisible. The establishment of differences that become gradually more decided, is evidently but the beginning of an action which cannot be pushed to its extreme without producing definite divisions between the parts, and reducing each part to a separate mass. But with our limited faculties, it is not possible to take in the entire process at one view; nor have we any single terms by which the process can be described. Hence we are obliged to contemplate each of its aspects separately, and to find a separate expression for its characteristic.
Having done this, we are now in a position to frame a true idea of Evolution. Combining these partial definitions we get a complete definition, which may be most conveniently expressed thus—Evolution is a change from an indefinite, incoherent homogeneity, to a definite, coherent heterogeneity; through continuous differentiations and integrations.
It may perhaps be remarked that the last of these clauses is superfluous; since the differentiation and integration are implied in the first clause. This is true: the transition whichthe first clause specifies, is impossible save through the process specified in the second. Nevertheless, a mere statement of the two extreme stages with which Evolution begins and ends, omitting all reference to changes connecting them, leaves the mind with but an incomplete idea. The idea becomes much more concrete when these changes are described. Hence, though not logically necessary, the second clause of the definition is practically desirable.
Before closing the chapter, a few words must be added respecting certain other modes of describing Evolution. Organic bodies, from the changes of which the idea of Evolution has arisen, and to the changes of which alone it is usually applied, are often said to progress from simplicity to complexity. The transformation of the simple into the complex, and of the homogeneous into the heterogeneous, are used as equivalent phrases; or, if any difference is recognized between them, it is to the advantage of the first, which is held to be the more specific. After what has been said, however, it must be obvious that Evolution cannot be thus adequately formulated. No hint is given of that increased definiteness which we have found to be a concomitant of development. Nor is there anything implying the greater mutual dependence of parts. Nevertheless, the brevity of the expression gives it a value for ordinary purposes; and I shall probably hereafter frequently use it, both in those cases where more precise language is not demanded, and in those cases where it indicates the particular aspect of Evolution referred to. Another description frequently given of Evolution, is, that it is a change from the general to the special. The more or less spherical germ from which every organism, animal and vegetal, proceeds, is comparatively general: alike in the sense that in appearance and chemical nature it is very similar to all other germs; and also in the sense that its form is less markedly distinguished from the average forms of objects at large, than is that of the mature organism—a contrast which equally holds of internal structure. But this progressfrom the more general to the more special, is rather a derivative than an original characteristic. An increase of speciality being really an increase in the number of attributes—an addition of traits not possessed by bodies that are in other respects similar—is a necessary result of multiplying differentiations. In other words, general and special are subjective or ideal distinctions involved in our conceptions of classes, rather than objective or real distinctions presented in the bodies classified. Nevertheless, this abstract formula is not without its use. It expresses a fact of much significance; and one which we shall have constantly to refer to when dealing with the relations between organic bodies and their surrounding conditions.
The law of Evolution however, be it expressed in full as above, or in these shorter but less specific phrases, is essentially that which has been exhibited in detail throughout the foregoing pages. So far as we can ascertain, this law is universal. It is illustrated with endless repetition, and in countless ways, wherever the facts are abundant; and where the facts do not suffice for induction, deduction goes far to supply its place. Among all orders of phenomena that lie within the sphere of observation, we see ever going on the process of change above defined; and many significant indications warrant us in believing, that the same process of change went on throughout that remote past which lies beyond the sphere of observation. If we must form any conclusion respecting the general course of things, past, present, and future, the one which the evidence as far as it goes justifies, and the only one for which there is any justification, is, that the change from an indeterminate uniformity to a determinate multiformity which we everywhere see going on, has been going on from the first, and will continue to go on.
10.Carpenter’s Prin. of Comp. Phys., p. 617.
10.Carpenter’s Prin. of Comp. Phys., p. 617.
CHAPTER IV.THE CAUSES OF EVOLUTION.
§ 58. Is this law ultimate or derivative? Must we rest satisfied with the conclusion that throughout all classes of concrete phenomena such is the mode of evolution? Or is it possible for us to ascertainwhysuch is the mode of evolution? May we seek for some all-pervading principle which underlies this all-pervading process? Can we by a further step reduce our empirical generalization to a rational generalization?
Manifestly this community of result implies community of causation. It may be that of such causation no account can be given, further than that the Unknowable is manifested to us after this manner. Or, it may be, that the mode of manifestation is reducible to simpler ones, from which these many complex consequences follow. Analogy suggests the latter inference. At present, the conclusion that every kind of Evolution is from a state of indefinite incoherent homogeneity to a state of definite coherent heterogeneity, stands in the same position as did the once ultimate conclusion that every kind of organized body undergoes, when dead, a more or less rapid decay. And as, for the various kinds of decomposition through which animal and vegetal products pass, we have now discovered a rationale in the chemical affinities of their constituent elements; so, possibly, this universal transformation of the simple into the complex may be affiliated upon certain simple primordial principles.
Such cause or causes of Evolution, may be sought for without in the least assuming that the ultimate mystery can be fathomed. Fully conscious that an absolute solution is for ever beyond us, we may still look for a relative solution—may try to reduce the problem to its lowest terms. Just as it was possible to interpret Kepler’s laws as necessary consequences of the law of gravitation, and then to admit that gravitation transcends analysis; so it may be possible to interpret the law of Evolution as the necessary consequence of some deeper law, beyond which we may nevertheless be unable to go.
§ 59. The probability of common causation, and the possibility of formulating it, being granted, it will be well before going further, to consider what must be the general characteristics of such causation, and in what direction we ought to look for it. We can with certainty predict that be it simple or compound, the cause has a high degree of generality; seeing that it is common to such infinitely varied phenomena: in proportion to the universality of its application must be the abstractness of its character. Whatever be the agency and the conditions under which it acts, we need not expect to see in them an obvious explanation of this or that species of Evolution, because they equally underlie species of Evolution of quite a different order. Determining Evolution of every kind—astronomic, geologic, organic, ethnologic, social, economic, artistic, &c.—they must be concerned with something common to all these; and to see what these possess in common, will therefore be the best method of guiding ourselves towards the desired solution.
The only obvious respect in which all kinds of Evolution are alike, is, that they are modes ofchange. Every phenomenon to which we apply the term, presents us with a succession of states; and when such succession ceases, we no longer predicate Evolution. Equally in those past forms of it which are more or less hypothetical, and in those forms of it whichwe see going on around, this is the common characteristic. Note next, that the kind of change which constitutes Evolution, is broadly distinguished from change of an equally general kind, in this, that it is change of internal relations instead of change of external relations. All things in motion through space are the subjects of change; but while in this which we call mechanical motion, the relative position as measured from surrounding objects is continually altered, there is not implied any alteration in the positions of the parts of the moving body in respect to each other. Conversely, a body exhibiting what we call Evolution, while it either may or may not display new relations of position to the things around it,mustdisplay new relations of position among the parts of which it is made up. Thus we narrow the field of inquiry by recognizing the change in which Evolution consists, asa change in the arrangement of parts: of course using the word parts in its most extended sense, as signifying both ultimate units and masses of such units. Further, we have to remember that this change in the arrangement of parts which constitutes Evolution, is a certain order of such change. As we saw in the last chapter, there is a change in the arrangement of parts which is not Evolution but Dissolution—a destructive change as opposed to a constructive change—a change by which the definite is gradually rendered indefinite, the coherent slowly becomes incoherent, and the heterogeneous eventually lapses into comparative homogeneity. Thus then we reduce that which we have to investigate to its most abstract shape. Our task is to find the cause or causes of a certain order of change that takes place in the arrangement of parts.
§ 60. Evidently the problem, as thus expressed, brings us face to face with the ultimate elements of phenomena in general. It is impossible to account for a certain change in the arrangement of the parts of any mass, without involving—first, thematterwhich makes up the parts thus re-arranged;next, themotionexhibited during the re-arrangement; and then, theforceproducing this motion. The problem is a dynamical one; and there can be no truly scientific solution of it, save one given in terms of Matter, Motion, and Force—terms in which all other dynamical problems are expressed and solved.
The proposal thus to study the question from a purely physical point of view, will most likely, notwithstanding what has been said in the first part of this work, raise in some minds either alarm or prejudice. Having, throughout life, constantly heard the charge of materialism made against those who ascribed the more involved phenomena to agencies like those seen in the simplest phenomena, most persons have acquired a repugnance to such methods of interpretation; and when it is proposed to apply them universally, even though it is premised that the solution they give can be but relative, more or less of the habitual feeling will probably arise. Such an attitude of mind, however, is significant, not so much of a reverence for the Unknown Cause, as of an irreverence for those omnipresent forms in which the Unknown Cause is manifested to us. Men who have not risen above that vulgar conception which unites with Matter the contemptuous epithets “gross” and “brute,” may naturally enough feel dismay at the proposal to reduce the phenomena of Life, of Mind, and of Society, to a level with those which they think so degraded. But whoever remembers that the forms of existence which the uncultivated speak of with so much scorn, are not only shown by the man of science to be the more marvellous in their attributes the more they are investigated, but are also proved to be in their ultimate nature absolutely incomprehensible—as absolutely incomprehensible as sensation, or the conscious something which perceives it—whoever fully realizes this truth, I say, will see that the course proposed does not imply a degradation of the so-called higher, but an elevation of the so-called lower. Perceiving, as he will, that the Materialist andSpiritualist controversy is a mere war of words, in which the disputants are equally absurd—each thinking he understands that which it is impossible for any man to understand—he will perceive how utterly groundless is the fear referred to. Being fully convinced that whatever nomenclature is used, the ultimate mystery must remain the same, he will be as ready to formulate all phenomena in terms of Matter, Motion, and Force, as in any other terms; and will rather indeed anticipate, that only in a doctrine which recognizes the Unknown Cause as co-extensive with all orders of phenomena, can there be a consistent Religion, or a consistent Science.
On the other hand, the conclusion that Evolution, considered under its most abstract form, is a certain change in the arrangement of parts; and that the causes of this change can be expressed only in terms of Matter, Motion, and Force; may in critical minds raise the question—What are Matter, Motion, and Force? Referring back in thought to the reasonings contained in the chapter on “Ultimate Scientific Ideas;” and remembering how it was there shown that absolute knowledge of Matter, Motion, and Force, is impossible; some readers will perhaps conclude that any such interpretation as the one above proposed, must be visionary. It may be asked—How can a comprehensible account of Evolution be given in terms that are themselves incomprehensible?
Before proceeding, this question must be met. There can be no sound philosophy without clearly defined terms; and as, on the meanings of the terms to be here used, doubts have probably been cast by the reasonings contained in the chapter referred to, such doubts must be removed. If, as was shown, our ideas of things do not correspond with things in themselves, it becomes necessary to inquire in what way they are to be accepted. If they are not absolutely true, then what is the exact meaning of the assertion that they are relatively true? To this question let us now address ourselves.
CHAPTER V.SPACE, TIME, MATTER, MOTION, AND FORCE.
§ 61. That sceptical state of mind which the criticisms of Philosophy usually produce, is, in great measure, caused by the misinterpretation of words. A sense of universal illusion ordinarily follows the reading of metaphysics; and is strong in proportion as the argument has appeared conclusive. This sense of universal illusion would probably never have arisen, had the terms used been always rightly construed. Unfortunately, these terms have by association acquired meanings that are quite different from those given to them in philosophical discussions; and the ordinary meanings being unavoidably suggested, there results more or less of that dreamlike idealism which is so incongruous with our instinctive convictions. The wordphenomenonand its equivalent wordappearance, are in great part to blame for this. In ordinary speech, these are uniformly employed in reference to visual perceptions. Habit, almost, if not quite, disables us from thinking ofappearanceexcept as something seen; and thoughphenomenonhas a more generalized meaning, yet we cannot rid it of associations withappearance, which is its verbal equivalent. When, therefore, Philosophy proves that our knowledge of the external world can be but phenomenal—when it concludes that the things of which we are conscious are appearances; it inevitably arouses in us the notion of an illusiveness like that to which our visual perceptions are so liable in comparison with our tactual perceptions. Good picturesshow us that the aspects of things may be very nearly simulated by colours on canvass. The looking-glass still more distinctly proves how deceptive is sight when unverified by touch. And the frequent cases in which we misinterpret the impressions made on our eyes, and think we see something which we do not see, further shake our faith in vision. So that the implication of uncertainty has infected the very wordappearance. Hence, Philosophy, by giving it an extended meaning, leads us to think of all our senses as deceiving us in the same way that the eyes do; and so makes us feel ourselves floating in a world of phantasms. Hadphenomenonandappearanceno such misleading associations, little, if any, of this mental confusion would result. Or did we in place of them use the termeffect, which is equally applicable to all impressions produced on consciousness through any of the senses, and which carries with it in thought the necessary correlativecause, with which it is equally real, we should be in little danger of falling into the insanities of idealism.
Such danger as there might still remain, would disappear on making a further verbal correction. At present, the confusion resulting from the above misinterpretation, is made greater by an antithetical misinterpretation. We increase the seeming unreality of that phenomenal existence which we can alone know, by contrasting it with a noumenal existence which we imagine would, if we could know it, be more truly real to us. But we delude ourselves with a verbal fiction. What is the meaning of the wordreal? This is the question which underlies every metaphysical inquiry; and the neglect of it is the remaining cause of the chronic antagonisms of metaphysicians. In the interpretation put on the wordreal, the discussions of philosophy retain one element of the vulgar conception of things, while they reject all its other elements; and create confusion by the inconsistency. The peasant, on contemplating an object, does not regard that which he contemplates as something in himself, but believes the thing of which he is conscious to be the externalobject—imagines that his consciousness extends to the very place where the object lies: to him the appearance and the reality are one and the same thing. The metaphysician, however, is convinced that consciousness cannot embrace the reality, but only the appearance of it; and so he transfers the appearance into consciousness and leaves the reality outside. This reality left outside of consciousness, he continues to think of much in the same way as the ignorant man thinks of the appearance. Though the reality is asserted to be out of consciousness, yet therealnessascribed to it is constantly spoken of as though it were a knowledge possessed apart from consciousness. It seems to be forgotten that the conception of reality can be nothing more than some mode of consciousness; and that the question to be considered is—What is the relation between this mode and other modes?
By reality we meanpersistencein consciousness: a persistence that is either unconditional, as our consciousness of space, or that is conditional, as our consciousness of a body while grasping it. The real, as we conceive it, is distinguished solely by the test of persistence; for by this test we separate it from what we call the unreal. Between a person standing before us, and the idea of such a person, we discriminate by our ability to expel the idea from consciousness, and our inability, while looking at him, to expel the person from consciousness. And when in doubt as to the validity or illusiveness of some impression made upon us in the dusk, we settle the matter by observing whether the impression persists on closer observation; and we predicate reality if the persistence is complete. How truly persistence is what we mean by reality, is shown in the fact that when, after criticism has proved that the real as we are conscious of it is not the objectively real, the indefinite notion which we form of the objectively real, is of something which persists absolutely, under all changes of mode, form, or appearance. And the fact that we cannot form even an indefinite notion of the absolutely real, except as the absolutely persistent, clearly implies thatpersistence is our ultimate test of the real as present to consciousness.
Reality then, as we think it, being nothing more than persistence in consciousness, the result must be the same to us whether that which we perceive be the Unconditioned itself, or an effect invariably wrought on us by the Unconditioned. If some mode of the Unconditioned uniformly produces some mode of consciousness—if the mode of consciousness so produced, is as persistent as would be such mode of the Unconditioned were it immediately known; it follows that the reality will be to our consciousness as complete in the one case as in the other. Were the Unconditioned itself present in thought, it could but be persistent; and if instead of it, there is present its persistent effect, the resulting consciousness of reality must be exactly the same.
Hence there may be drawn these conclusions:—First, that we have an indefinite consciousness of an absolute reality transcending relations, which is produced by the absolute persistence in us of something which survives all changes of relation. Second, that we have a definite consciousness of relative reality, which unceasingly persists in us under one or other of its forms, and under each form so long as the conditions of presentation are fulfilled; and that the relative reality, being thus continuously persistent in us, is as real to us as would be the absolute reality could it be immediately known. Third, that thought being possible only under relation, the relative reality can be conceived as such only in connexion with an absolute reality; and the connexion between the two being absolutely persistent in our consciousness, is real in the same sense as the terms it unites are real.
Thus then we may resume, with entire confidence, those realistic conceptions which philosophy at first sight seems to dissipate. Though reality under the forms of our consciousness, is but a conditioned effect of the absolute reality, yet this conditioned effect standing in indissoluble relation with its unconditioned cause, and being equally persistent with itso long as the conditions persist, is, to the consciousness supplying those conditions, equally real. The persistent impressions being the persistent results of a persistent cause, are for practical purposes the same to us as the cause itself; and may be habitually dealt with as its equivalents. Somewhat in the same way that our visual perceptions, though merely symbols found to be the equivalents of tactual perceptions, are yet so identified with those tactual perceptions that we actually appear to see the solidity and hardness which we do but infer, and thus conceive as objects what are only the signs of objects; so, on a higher stage, do we deal with these relative realities as though they were absolutes instead of effects of the absolute. And we may legitimately continue so to deal with them as long as the conclusions to which they help us are understood as relative realities and not absolute ones.
This general conclusion it now remains to interpret specifically, in its application to each of our ultimate scientific ideas.
§ 62.[11]We think in relations. This is truly the form of all thought; and if there are any other forms, they must be derived from this. We have seen (Chap. iii. Part I.) that the several ultimate modes of being cannot be known or conceived as they exist in themselves; that is, out ofrelationto our consciousness. We have seen, by analyzing the product of thought, (§ 23,) that it always consists ofrelations; and cannot include anything beyond the most general of these. On analyzing the process of thought, we found that cognition of the Absolute was impossible, because it presented neitherrelation, nor its elements—difference and likeness. Further, we found that not only Intelligence but Life itself, consists in the establishment of internalrelationsin correspondence with external relations. And lastly, it was shownthat though by the relativity of our thought we are eternally debarred from knowing or conceiving Absolute Being; yet that this veryrelativityof our thought, necessitates that vague consciousness of Absolute Being which no mental effort can suppress. Thatrelationis the universal form of thought, is thus a truth which all kinds of demonstration unite in proving.
By the transcendentalists, certain other phenomena of consciousness are regarded as forms of thought. Presuming that relation would be admitted by them to be a universal mental form, they would class with it two others as also universal. Were their hypothesis otherwise tenable however, it must still be rejected if such alleged further forms are interpretable as generated by the primary form. If we think in relations, and if relations have certain universal forms, it is manifest that such universal forms of relations will become universal forms of our consciousness. And if these further universal forms are thus explicable, it is superfluous, and therefore unphilosophical, to assign them an independent origin. Now relations are of two orders—relations of sequence, and relations of co-existence; of which the one is original and the other derivative. The relation of sequence is given in every change of consciousness. The relation of co-existence, which cannot be originally given in a consciousness of which the states are serial, becomes distinguished only when it is found that certain relations of sequence have their terms presented in consciousness in either order with equal facility; while the others are presented only in one order. Relations of which the terms are not reversible, become recognized as sequences proper; while relations of which the terms occur indifferently in both directions, become recognized as co-existences. Endless experiences, which from moment to moment present both orders of these relations, render the distinction between them perfectly definite; and at the same time generate an abstract conception of each. The abstract of all sequences is Time. The abstractof all co-existences is Space. From the fact that in thought, Time is inseparable from sequence, and Space from co-existence, we do not here infer that Time and Space are original conditions of consciousness under which sequences and co-existences are known; but we infer that our conceptions of Time and Space are generated, as other abstracts are generated from other concretes: the only difference being, that the organization of experiences has, in these cases, been going on throughout the entire evolution of intelligence.
This synthesis is confirmed by analysis. Our consciousness of Space is a consciousness of co-existent positions. Any limited portion of space can be conceived only by representing its limits as co-existing in certain relative positions; and each of its imagined boundaries, be it line or plane, can be thought of in no other way than as made up of co-existent positions in close proximity. And since a position is not an entity—since the congeries of positions which constitute any conceived portion of space, and mark its bounds, are not sensible existences; it follows that the co-existent positions which make up our consciousness of Space, are not co-existences in the full sense of the word (which implies realities as their terms), but are the blank forms of co-existences, left behind when the realities are absent; that is, are the abstracts of co-existences. The experiences out of which, during the evolution of intelligence, this abstract of all co-existences has been generated, are experiences of individual positions as ascertained by touch; and each of such experiences involves the resistance of an object touched, and the muscular tension which measures this resistance. By countless unlike muscular adjustments, involving unlike muscular tensions, different resisting positions are disclosed; and these, as they can be experienced in one order as readily as another, we regard as co-existing. But since, under other circumstances, the same muscular adjustments do not produce contact with resisting positions, there result the same states of consciousness, minus the resistances—blank forms of co-existence from which the co-existent objects beforeexperienced are absent. And from a building up of these, too elaborate to be here detailed, results that abstract of all relations of co-existence which we call Space. It remains only to point out, as a thing which we must not forget, that the experiences from which the consciousness of Space arises, are experiences offorce. A certain correlation of the muscular forces we ourselves exercise, is the index of each position as originally disclosed to us; and the resistance which makes us aware of something existing in that position, is an equivalent of the pressure we consciously exert. Thus, experiences of forces variously correlated, are those from which our consciousness of Space is abstracted.
That which we know as Space being thus shown, alike by its genesis and definition, to be purely relative, what are we to say of that which causes it? Is there an absolute Space which relative Space in some sort represents? Is Space in itself a form or condition of absolute existence, producing in our minds a corresponding form or condition of relative existence? These are unanswerable questions. Our conception of Space is produced by some mode of the Unknowable; and the complete unchangeableness of our conception of it simply implies a complete uniformity in the effects wrought by this mode of the Unknowable upon us. But therefore to call it a necessary mode of the Unknowable, is illegitimate. All we can assert is, that Space is a relative reality; that our consciousness of this unchanging relative reality implies an absolute reality equally unchanging in so far as we are concerned; and that the relative reality may be unhesitatingly accepted in thought as a valid basis for our reasonings; which, when rightly carried on, will bring us to truths that have a like relative reality—the only truths which concern us or can possibly be known to us.
Concerning Time, relative and absolute, a parallel argument leads to parallel conclusions. These are too obvious to need specifying in detail.
§ 63. Our conception of Matter, reduced to its simplest shape, is that of co-existent positions that offer resistance; as contrasted with our conception of Space, in which the co-existent positions offer no resistance. We think of Body as bounded by surfaces that resist; and as made up throughout of parts that resist. Mentally abstract the co-existent resistances, and the consciousness of Body disappears; leaving behind it the consciousness of Space. And since the group of co-existing resistent positions constituting a portion of matter, is uniformly capable of giving us impressions of resistance in combination with various muscular adjustments, according as we touch its near, its remote, its right, or its left side; it results that as different muscular adjustments habitually indicate different co-existences, we are obliged to conceive every portion of matter as containing more than one resistent position—that is, as occupying Space. Hence the necessity we are under of representing to ourselves the ultimate elements of Matter as being at once extended and resistent: this being the universal form of our sensible experiences of Matter, becomes the form which our conception of it cannot transcend, however minute the fragments which imaginary subdivisions produce. Of these two inseparable elements, the resistance is primary, and the extension secondary. Occupied extension, or Body, being distinguished in consciousness from unoccupied extension, or Space, by its resistance, this attribute must clearly have precedence in the genesis of the idea. Such a conclusion is, indeed, an obvious corollary from that at which we arrived in the foregoing section. If, as was there contended, our consciousness of Space is a product of accumulated experiences, partly our own but chiefly ancestral—if, as was pointed out, the experiences from which our consciousness of Space is abstracted, can be received only through impressions of resistance made upon the organism; the necessary inference is, that experiences of resistance being those from which the conception of Space is generated, the resistance-attribute of Matter must be regarded as primordial and the space-attributeas derivative. Whence it becomes manifest that our experience offorce, is that out of which the idea of Matter is built. Matter as opposing our muscular energies, being immediately present to consciousness in terms of force; and its occupancy of Space being known by an abstract of experiences originally given in terms of force; it follows that forces, standing in certain correlations, form the whole content of our idea of Matter.
Such being our cognition of the relative reality, what are we to say of the absolute reality? We can only say that it is some mode of the Unknowable, related to the Matter we know, as cause to effect. The relativity of our cognition of Matter is shown alike by the above analysis, and by the contradictions which are evolved when we deal with the cognition as an absolute one (§ 16). But, as we have lately seen, though known to us only under relation, Matter is as real in the true sense of that word, as it would be could we know it out of relation; and further, the relative reality which we know as Matter, is necessarily represented to the mind as standing in a persistent or real relation to the absolute reality. We may therefore deliver ourselves over without hesitation, to those terms of thought which experience has organized in us. We need not in our physical, chemical, or other researches, refrain from dealing with Matter as made up of extended and resistent atoms; for this conception, necessarily resulting from our experiences of Matter, is not less legitimate, than the conception of aggregate masses as extended and resistent. The atomic hypothesis, as well as the kindred hypothesis of an all-pervading ether consisting of molecules, is simply a necessary development of those universal forms which the actions of the Unknowable have wrought in us. The conclusions logically worked out by the aid of these hypotheses, are sure to be in harmony with all others which these same forms involve, and will have a relative truth that is equally complete.
§ 64. The conception of Motion as presented or representedin the developed consciousness, involves the conceptions of Space, of Time, and of Matter. A something that moves; a series of positions occupied in succession; and a group of co-existent positions united in thought with the successive ones—these are the constituents of the idea. And since, as we have seen, these are severally elaborated from experiences offorceas given in certain correlations, it follows that from a further synthesis of such experiences, the idea of Motion is also elaborated. A certain other element in the idea, which is in truth its fundamental element, (namely, the necessity which the moving body is under to go on changing its position), results immediately from the earliest experiences of force. Movements of different parts of the organism in relation to each other, are the first presented in consciousness. These, produced by the action of the muscles, necessitate reactions upon consciousness in the shape of sensations of muscular tension. Consequently, each stretching-out or drawing-in of a limb, is originally known as a series of muscular tensions, varying in intensity as the position of the limb changes. And this rudimentary consciousness of Motion, consisting of serial impressions of force, becomes inseparably united with the consciousness of Space and Time as fast as these are abstracted from further impressions of force. Or rather, out of this primitive conception of Motion, the adult conception of it is developed simultaneously with the development of the conceptions of Space and Time: all three being evolved from the more multiplied and varied impressions of muscular tension and objective resistance. Motion, as we know it, is thus traceable, in common with the other ultimate scientific ideas, to experiences of force.
That this relative reality answers to some absolute reality, it is needful only for form’s sake to assert. What has been said above, respecting the Unknown Cause which produces in us the effects called Matter, Space, and Time, will apply, on simply changing the terms, to Motion.
§ 65. We come down then finally to Force, as the ultimate of ultimates. Though Space, Time, Matter, and Motion, are apparently all necessary data of intelligence, yet a psychological analysis (here indicated only in rude outline) shows us that these are either built up of, or abstracted from, experiences of Force. Matter and Motion, as we know them, are differently conditioned manifestations of Force. Space and Time, as we know them, are disclosed along with these different manifestations of Force as the conditions under which they are presented. Matter and Motion are concretes built up from thecontentsof various mental relations; while Space and Time are abstracts of theformsof these various relations. Deeper down than these, however, are the primordial experiences of Force, which, as occurring in consciousness in different combinations, supply at once the materials whence the forms of relations are generalized, and the related objects built up. A single impression of force is manifestly receivable by a sentient being devoid of mental forms: grant but sensibility, with no established power of thought, and a force producing some nervous change, will still be presentable at the supposed seat of sensation. Though no single impression of force so received, could itself produce consciousness (which implies relations between different states), yet a multiplication of such impressions, differing in kind and degree, would give the materials for the establishment of relations, that is, of thought. And if such relations differed in their forms as well as in their contents, the impressions of such forms would be organized simultaneously with the impressions they contained. Thus all other modes of consciousness are derivable from experiences of Force; but experiences of Force are not derivable from anything else. Indeed, it needs but to remember that consciousness consists of changes, to see that the ultimate datum of consciousness must be that of which change is the manifestation; and that thus the force by which we ourselves produce changes,and which serves to symbolize the cause of changes in general, is the final disclosure of analysis.
It is a truism to say that the nature of this undecomposable element of our knowledge is inscrutable. If, to use an algebraic illustration, we represent Matter, Motion, and Force, by the symbolsx,y, andz; then, we may ascertain the values ofxandyin terms ofz; but the value ofzcan never be found:zis the unknown quantity which must for ever remain unknown; for the obvious reason that there is nothing in which its value can be expressed. It is within the possible reach of our intelligence to go on simplifying the equations of all phenomena, until the complex symbols which formulate them are reduced to certain functions of this ultimate symbol; but when we have done this, we have reached that limit which eternally divides science from nescience.
That this undecomposable mode of consciousness into which all other modes may be decomposed, cannot be itself the Power manifested to us through phenomena, has been already proved (§ 18). We saw that to assume an identity of nature between the cause of changes as it absolutely exists, and that cause of change of which we are conscious in our own muscular efforts, betrays us into alternative impossibilities of thought. Force, as we know it, can be regarded only as a certain conditioned effect of the Unconditioned Cause—as the relative reality indicating to us an Absolute Reality by which it is immediately produced. And here, indeed, we see even more clearly than before, how inevitable is that transfigured realism to which sceptical criticism finally brings us round. Getting rid of all complications, and contemplating pure Force, we are irresistibly compelled by the relativity of our thought, to vaguely conceive some unknown force as the correlative of the known force. Conditioned effect and unconditioned cause, are here presented in their primordial relation as two sides of the same change; of which we are obliged to regard the conditioned and the unconditioned sides as equally real: the only difference being that the reality ofthe one is made relative by the imposition of the forms and limits of our consciousness, while the reality of the other, in the absence of those forms and limits, remains absolute.
Thus much respecting the nature of our ultimate scientific ideas. Before proceeding to our general inquiry concerning the causes of Evolution, we have still to consider certain ultimate scientific truths.