Nor do the industrial and æsthetic Arts fail to supply us with 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 trait may 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 proper products 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 become highly 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 only _one_ of their structural traits. The greater degree of heterogeneity which they exhibit, is, as we have seen, a much 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. His error 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 a completer 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 through the 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 which the 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 progress from 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.
----- Footnote 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 ascertain _why_ such 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 of _change_. 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 which we 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, _must_ display 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, as _a 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, the _matter_ which makes up the parts thus re-arranged; next, the _motion_ exhibited during the re-arrangement; and then, the _force_ producing 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 and Spiritualist 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 word _phenomenon_ and its equivalent word _appearance_, 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 of _appearance_ except as something seen; and though _phenomenon_ has a more generalized meaning, yet we cannot rid it of associations with _appearance_, 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