Chapter VIII: Appendix: B (1)

On pp. 119 and 120, I have pointed out that the followers of M. Comte, swayed by the spirit of discipleship, habitually ascribe to him a great deal which was the common inheritance of the scientific world before he wrote, and to which he himself laid no claim. Kindred remarks have since been made by others, both in England and in France—the one by Mr. Mill, and the other by M. Fouillée. Mr. Mill says:―

“The foundation of M. Comte’s philosophy is thus in no way peculiar to him, but the general property of the age, however far as yet from being universally accepted even by thoughtful minds. The philosophy called Positive is not a recent invention of M. Comte, but a simple adherence to the traditions of all the great scientific minds whose discoveries have made the human race what it is. M. Comte has never presented it in any other light. But he has made the doctrine his own by his manner of treating it.”—_Auguste Comte and Positivism_, pp. 8, 9.

In his _Histoire de la Philosophie_, 1875, M. Alfred Fouillée writes:―

“Saint-Simon voulut successivement organiser la société à l’aide de la science (prétention d’où sortit le positivisme) puis à l’aide de l’industrie, et enfin à l’aide d’une religion nouvelle, capable de ‘forcer chacun de ses membres à suivre le précepte de l’amour du prochain.’”—p. 428.

“Les doctrines sociales de Saint-Simon, jointes au naturalisme de Cabanis et de Broussais, donnèrent naissance au ‘positivisme’ d’Auguste Comte. {144} Ce dernier, comme Saint-Simon, voit dans la science sociale ou ‘sociologie’ le terme et le but de toutes les recherches scientifiques.”—p. 422.

“A cette méthode Auguste Comte ajouta des vues historiques, qu’il croyait entièrement originales, sur les trois états par où passe nécessairement selon lui la connaissance humaine: état théologique, état métaphysique, et état scientifique. Le germe de cette théorie était déjà dans Turgot.”—p. 424.

“En somme, Auguste Comte a eu le mérite d’insister sur les méthodes qui conviennent aux sciences de la nature; mais il faut avouer que ces méthodes étaient connues bien avant lui.”—p. 425.

ENDNOTES TO _REASONS FOR DISSENTING FROM THE PHILOSOPHY OF M. COMTE_.

[14] A clear illustration of this process, is furnished by the recent mental integration of Heat, Light, Electricity, etc., as modes of molecular motion. If we go a step back, we see that the modern conception of Electricity, resulted from the integration in consciousness, of the two forms of it involved in the galvanic battery and in the electric-machine. And going back to a still earlier stage, we see how the conception of statical electricity, arose by the coalescence in thought, of the previously-separate forces manifested in rubbed amber, in rubbed glass, and in lightning. With such illustrations before him, no one can, I think, doubt that the process has been the same from the beginning.

[15] Possibly it will be said that M. Comte himself admits that what he calls the perfection of the positive system, will probably never be reached; and that what he condemns is the inquiry into the _natures_ of causes and not the general recognition of cause. To the first of these allegations I reply that, as I understand M. Comte, the obstacle to the perfect realization of the positive philosophy is the impossibility of carrying generalization so far as to reduce all particular facts to cases of one general fact—not the impossibility of excluding the consciousness of cause. And to the second allegation I reply that the essential principle of his philosophy is an avowed ignoring of cause altogether. For if it is not, _what becomes of his alleged distinction between the perfection of the positive system and the perfection of the metaphysical system_? And here let me point out that, by affirming exactly the opposite to that which M. Comte thus affirms, I am excluded from the positive school. If his own definition of positivism is to be taken, then, as I hold that what he defines as positivism is an absolute impossibility, it is clear that I cannot be what he calls a positivist.

[16] A friendly critic alleges that M. Comte is not fairly represented by this quotation, and that he is blamed by his biographer, M. Littré, for his too-great insistance on feeling as a motor of humanity. If in his “Positive Politics,” which I presume is here referred to, M. Comte abandons his original position, so much the better. But I am here dealing with what is known as “the Positive Philosophy;” and that the passage above quoted does not misrepresent it, is proved by the fact that this doctrine is re-asserted at the commencement of the Sociology.

[17] In 1885, during a controversy with one of M. Comte’s English disciples, I was blamed for speaking “of Comte as making six sciences,” and was told that “in all Comte’s works, except the first, he makes seven sciences.” As I was dealing with The Positive Philosophy, I thought I could not do better than give the foregoing extract from the _Cours de Philosophie Positive_; and it did not occur to me that I was called upon to see whether, in any of his later voluminous works, M. Comte had made a different statement. My opponent, however, enlarged on this “blunder,” as he politely called it: apparently oblivious of the fact that if it was a blunder on my part to speak of Comte as recognizing six sciences when in his later days he recognized seven, it was a much more serious blunder on the part of Comte himself to have long overlooked the seventh.

[18] M. Comte’s “Exposition” I read in the original in 1852; and in two or three other places have referred to the original to get his exact words. The Inorganic Physics, and the first chapter of the Biology, I read in Miss Martineau’s condensed translation, when it appeared. The rest of M. Comte’s views I know only through Mr. Lewes’s outline, and through incidental references.

[19] In his work, _Auguste Comte et la Philosophie Positive_ (1863), M. Littré defending the Comtean classification of the sciences from the criticism I made upon it in the “Genesis of Science,” deals with me wholly as an antagonist. The chapter he devotes to his reply, opens by placing me in direct opposition to the English adherents of Comte, named in the preceding chapter.

[20] I believed at the time, and have never doubted until now, that the choice of this title was absolutely independent of its previous use by M. Comte. While writing these pages, I have found reason to think the contrary. On referring to _Social Statics_, to see what were my views of social evolution in 1850, when M. Comte was to me but a name, I met with the following sentence:—“Social philosophy may be aptly divided (as political economy has been) into statics and dynamics” (ch. xxx. § 1). This I remembered to be a reference to a division which I had seen in the Political Economy of Mr. Mill. But why had I not mentioned Mr. Mill’s name? On referring to the first edition of his work, I found, at the opening of Book iv., this sentence:—“The three preceding parts include as detailed a view as the limits of this treatise permit, of what, by a happy generalization of a mathematical phrase, has been called the Statics of the subject.” Here was the solution of the question. The division had not been made by Mr. Mill, but by some writer (on Political Economy I supposed) who was not named by him; and whom I did not know. It is now manifest, however, that while I supposed I was giving a more extended use to this division, I was but returning to the original use which Mr. Mill had limited to his special topic. Another thing is, I think, tolerably manifest. As I evidently wished to point out my obligation to some unknown political economist, whose division I thought I was extending, I should have named him had I known who he was. And in that case should not have put this extension of the division as though it were new.

[21] Let me add that the conception developed in _Social Statics_, dates back to a series of letters on the “Proper Sphere of Government,” published in the _Nonconformist_ newspaper in the latter half of 1842, and republished as a pamphlet in 1843. In these letters will be found, along with many crude ideas, the same belief in the conformity of social phenomena to unvariable laws; the same belief in human progression as determined by such laws; the same belief in the moral modification of men as caused by social discipline; the same belief in the tendency of social arrangements “of themselves to assume a condition of _stable_ equilibrium;” the same repudiation of state-control over various departments of social life; the same limitation of state-action to the maintenance of equitable relations among citizens. The writing of _Social Statics_ arose from a dissatisfaction with the basis on which the doctrines set forth in those letters were placed: the second half of that work is an elaboration of these doctrines; and the first half a statement of the principles from which they are deducible.

[22] Published many years since in America, this statement was republished in England eight years since. See _Athenæum_ for July 22nd, 1882.

{145}

ON LAWS IN GENERAL, AND THE ORDER OF THEIR DISCOVERY.

[_The following was contained in the first edition of_ First Principles. _I omitted it from the re-organized second edition, because it did not form an essential part of the new structure. As it is referred to in the foregoing pages, and as its general argument is germane to the contents of those pages, I have thought well to insert it here. Moreover, though I hope eventually to incorporate it in that division of the_ Principles of Sociology _which treats of Intellectual Progress, yet as it must be long before it can thus re-appear in its permanent place, and as, should I not get so far in the execution of my undertaking, it may never thus re-appear at all, it seems proper to make it more accessible than it is at present. The first and last sections, which served to link it into the argument of the work to which it originally belonged, are omitted. The rest has been carefully revised, and in some parts considerably altered._]

The recognition of Law being the recognition of uniformity of relations among phenomena, it follows that the order in which different groups of phenomena are reduced to law, must depend on the frequency with which the uniform relations they severally display are distinctly experienced. At any given stage of progress, those {146} uniformities will be best known with which men’s minds have been oftenest and most strongly impressed. In proportion partly to the number of times a relation has been presented to consciousness (not merely to the senses), and in proportion partly to the vividness with which the terms of the relation have been cognized, will be the degree in which the constancy of connexion is perceived.

The succession in which relations are generalized being thus determined, there result certain derivative principles to which this succession must more immediately and obviously conform. The first is _the directness with which personal welfare is affected_. While, among surrounding things, many do not appreciably influence us in any way, some produce pleasures and some pains, in various degrees; and manifestly, those things of which the actions on the organism for good or evil are most decided, will, _cæteris paribus_, be those of which the laws of action are earliest observed. Second comes _the conspicuousness of one or both phenomena between which a relation is to be perceived_. On every side are phenomena so concealed as to be detected only by close observation; others not obtrusive enough to attract notice; others which moderately solicit the attention; others so imposing or vivid as to force themselves on consciousness; and, supposing conditions to be the same, these last will of course be among the first to have their relations generalized. In the third place, we have _the absolute frequency with which the relations occur_. There are coexistences and sequences of all degrees of commonness, from those which are ever present to those which are extremely rare; and manifestly, the rare coexistences and sequences, as well as the sequences which are very long in taking place, will not be reduced to law so soon as those which are familiar and rapid. Fourthly has to be added _the relative frequency of occurrence_. Many events and appearances are limited to certain times or certain places, or both; {147} and, as a relation which does not exist within the environment of an observer cannot be perceived by him, however common it may be elsewhere or in another age, we have to take account of the surrounding physical circumstances, as well as of the state of society, of the arts, and of the sciences—all of which affect the frequency with which certain groups of facts are observable. The fifth corollary to be noticed is, that the succession in which different classes of relations are reduced to law, depends in part on their _simplicity_. Phenomena presenting great composition of causes or conditions, have their essential relations so masked, that it requires accumulated experiences to impress upon consciousness the true connexions of antecedents and consequents they involve. Hence, other things equal, the progress of generalization will be from the simple to the complex; and this it is which M. Comte has wrongly asserted to be the sole regulative principle of the progress. Sixth comes _the degree of concreteness, or absence of abstractness_. Concrete relations are the earliest acquisitions. Such analyses of them as separate the essential connexions from their disguising accompaniments, necessarily come later. The analyses of the connexions, always more or less compound, into their elements then becomes possible. And so on continually, until the highest and most abstract truths have been reached.

These, then, are the several derivative principles. The frequency and vividness with which uniform relations are repeated in conscious experience, determining the recognition of their uniformity, and this frequency and vividness depending on the above conditions, it follows that the order in which different classes of facts are generalized, must depend on the extent to which the above conditions are fulfilled in each class. Let us mark how the facts harmonize with this conclusion: taking first a few that elucidate the general truth, and afterwards some that {148} exemplify the special truths which we here see follow from it.

* * * * *

The relations earliest known as uniformities, are those subsisting among the common properties of matter—tangibility, visibility, cohesion, weight, etc. We have no trace of a time when the resistance offered by an object was regarded as caused by the will of the object; or when the pressure of a body on the hand holding it, was ascribed to the agency of a living being. And accordingly, these are the relations of which we are oftenest conscious: being, as they are, objectively frequent, conspicuous, simple, concrete, and of immediate personal concern.

Similarly with the ordinary phenomena of motion. The fall of a mass on the withdrawal of its support, is a sequence which directly affects bodily welfare, is conspicuous, simple, concrete, and very often repeated. Hence it is one of the uniformities recognized before the dawn of tradition. We know of no era when ordinary movements due to terrestrial gravitation were attributed to volition. Only when the relation is obscured, as where the withdrawal of a support is not obvious, or, as in the case of an aërolite, where the antecedent of the descent is unperceived, do we find the conception of personal agency. On the other hand, motions of intrinsically the same order as that of a falling stone—those of the heavenly bodies—long remain ungeneralized; and until their uniformity is seen, and indeed for a long time after, are construed as results of will. This difference is clearly not dependent on comparative complexity or abstractness, since the motion of a planet in an ellipse of slight eccentricity, is as simple and concrete a phenomenon as the motion of a projected arrow in an ellipse of extreme eccentricity indistinguishable from a parabola. But the antecedents are not conspicuous; the sequences are of long duration; and they are not often repeated. And that these are the causes of their slow {149} reduction to law, we see in the fact that they are severally generalized in the order of their frequency and conspicuousness—the moon’s monthly cycle, the sun’s annual change, the periods of the inferior planets, the periods of the superior planets.

While astronomical sequences were still ascribed to volition, certain terrestrial sequences of a different kind, but some of them equally without complication, were interpreted in like manner. The solidification of water at a low temperature, is a phenomenon that is simple, concrete, and of much personal concern. But it is neither so frequent as those which we see are earliest generalized, nor is the presence of the antecedent so manifest. Though in all but tropical climates, mid-winter displays the relation between cold and freezing with tolerable constancy; yet, during the spring and autumn, the occasional appearance of ice in the mornings has no very obvious connexion with coldness of the weather. Sensation being so inaccurate a measure, it is not possible for the savage to experience the definite relation between a temperature of 32° and the congealing of water; and hence the long continued belief in personal agency. Similarly, but still more clearly, with the winds. The absence of regularity and the inconspicuousness of the antecedents, allowed the mythological explanation to survive for a great period.

During the era in which the uniformity of many quite simple inorganic relations was still unrecognized, certain organic relations, intrinsically very complex and special, were generalized. The constant coexistence of feathers and a beak, of four legs with an internal bony framework, are facts which were, and are, familiar to every savage. Did a savage find a bird with teeth, or a mammal clothed with feathers, he would be as much surprised as an instructed naturalist. Now these uniformities of organic structure thus early perceived, are of exactly the same kind as those more numerous ones later established by biology. The constant {150} coexistence of mammary glands with two occipital condyles to the skull, of vertebræ with teeth lodged in sockets, of frontal horns with the habit of rumination, are generalizations as purely empirical as those known to the aboriginal hunter. The botanist cannot in the least understand the complex relation between papilionaceous flowers and seeds borne in flattened pods: he knows these and like connexions simply in the same way that the barbarian knows the connexions between particular leaves and particular kinds of wood. But the fact that sundry of the uniform relations which chiefly make up the organic sciences, were very early recognized, is due to the high degrees of vividness and frequency with which they were presented to consciousness. Though the connexion between the sounds characteristic of a certain bird, and the possession of edible flesh, is extremely involved, yet the two terms of the relation are conspicuous, often recur in experience, and a knowledge of their connexion has a direct bearing on personal welfare. Meanwhile innumerable relations of the same order, which are displayed with even greater frequency by surrounding plants and animals, remain for thousands of years unrecognized, if they are unobtrusive or of no apparent moment.

When, passing from this primitive stage to a more advanced stage, we trace the discovery of those less familiar uniformities which mainly constitute what is distinguished as Science, we find the succession in which knowledge of them is reached, to be still determined in the same manner. This will become obvious on contemplating separately the influence of each derivative condition.

* * * * *

How relations that have immediate bearings on the maintenance of life, are, other things equal, fixed in the mind before those which have no immediate bearings, the history of Science abundantly illustrates. The habits of existing uncivilized races, who fix times by moons and barter so many of one article for so many of another, show {151} us that conceptions of equality and number, which are the germs of mathematical science, were developed under the immediate pressure of personal wants; and it can scarcely be doubted that those laws of numerical relations which are embodied in the rules of arithmetic, were first brought to light through the practice of mercantile exchange. Similarly with geometry. The derivation of the word shows us that it originally included only certain methods of partitioning ground and laying out buildings. The properties of the scales and the lever, involving the first principle in mechanics, were early generalized under the stimulus of commercial and architectural needs. To fix the times of religious festivals and agricultural operations, were the motives which led to the establishment of the simpler astronomic periods. Such small knowledge of chemical relations as was involved in ancient metallurgy, was manifestly obtained in seeking how to improve tools and weapons. In the alchemy of later times, we see how greatly an intense hope of private benefit contributed to the disclosure of a certain class of uniformities. Nor is our own age barren of illustrations. “Here,” says Humboldt, when in Guiana, “as in many parts in Europe, the sciences are thought worthy to occupy the mind, only so far as they confer some immediate and practical benefit on society.” “How is it possible to believe,” said a missionary to him, “that you have left your country to come to be devoured by mosquitoes on this river, and to measure lands that are not your own?” Our coasts furnish like instances. Every sea-side naturalist knows how great is the contempt with which fishermen regard the collection of objects for the microscope or aquarium. Their incredulity as to the possible value of such things is so great, that they can scarcely be induced even by bribes to preserve the refuse of their nets. Nay, we need not go for evidence beyond daily table-talk. The demand for “practical science”—for a knowledge that can be brought to bear on the business of {152} life—joined to the ridicule commonly vented on scientific pursuits having no obvious uses, suffice to show that the order in which laws are discovered greatly depends on the directness with which knowledge of them affects our welfare.

That, when all other conditions are the same, obtrusive relations will be generalized before unobtrusive ones, is so nearly a truism that examples appear almost superfluous. If it be admitted that by the aboriginal man, as by the child, the co-existent properties of large surrounding objects are noticed before those of minute objects, and that the external relations which bodies present are generalized before their internal relations, it must be admitted that in subsequent stages of progress, the comparative conspicuousness of relations has greatly affected the order in which they were recognized as uniform. Hence it happened that after the establishment of those very manifest sequences constituting a lunation, and those less manifest ones marking a year, and those still less manifest ones marking the planetary periods, astronomy occupied itself with such inconspicuous sequences as those displayed in the repeating cycle of lunar eclipses, and those which suggested the theory of epicycles and eccentrics; while modern astronomy deals with still more inconspicuous sequences, some of which, as the planetary rotations, are nevertheless the simplest which the heavens present. In physics, the early use of canoes implied an empirical knowledge of certain hydrostatic relations that are intrinsically more complex than sundry static relations not empirically known; but these hydrostatic relations were thrust upon observation. Or, if we compare the solution of the problem of specific gravity by Archimedes with the discovery of atmospheric pressure by Torricelli (the two involving mechanical relations of the same class), we perceive that the much earlier occurrence of the first than the last was determined, neither by a difference in their bearings on personal welfare, nor by a difference in the frequency with {153} which illustrations of them came under observation, nor by relative simplicity; but by the greater obtrusiveness of the connexion between antecedent and consequent in the one case than in the other. Among miscellaneous illustrations, it may be pointed out that the connexions between lightning and thunder, and between rain and clouds, were recognized long before others of the same order, simply because they thrust themselves on the attention. Or the long-delayed discovery of the microscopic forms of life, with all the phenomena they present, may be named as very clearly showing how certain groups of relations not ordinarily perceptible, though in other respects like long-familiar relations, have to wait until changed conditions render them perceptible. But, without further details, it needs only to consider the inquiries which now occupy the electrician, the chemist, the physiologist, to see that science has advanced, and is advancing, from the more conspicuous phenomena to the less conspicuous ones.

How the degree of absolute frequency of a relation affects the recognition of its uniformity, we see in contrasting certain biological facts. The connexion between death and bodily injury, constantly displayed not only in men but in all inferior creatures, came to be recognized as an instance of natural causation while yet deaths from diseases or from some of them continued to be thought supernatural. Among diseases themselves, it is observable that unusual ones were regarded as of demoniacal origin during ages when the more frequent were ascribed to ordinary causes: a truth paralleled among our own peasantry, who by the use of charms show a lingering superstition with respect to rare disorders, which they do not show with respect to common ones, such as colds. Passing to physical illustrations, we may note that within the historic period whirlpools were accounted for by the agency of water-spirits; but we do not find that within the same period the disappearance of water on exposure either to the sun or to artificial heat was {154} interpreted in an analogous way: though a more marvellous occurrence, and a more complex one, its great frequency led to the early recognition of it as a natural uniformity. Rainbows and comets do not differ much in conspicuousness, and a rainbow is intrinsically the more involved phenomenon; but chiefly because of their far greater commonness, rainbows were perceived to have a direct dependence on sun and rain while yet comets were regarded as signs of divine wrath.

That races living inland must long have remained ignorant of the daily and monthly sequences of the tides, and that tropical races could not early have comprehended the phenomena of northern winters, are extreme illustrations of the influence which relative frequency has on the recognition of uniformities. Animals which, where they are indigenous, call forth no surprise by their structures or habits, because these are so familiar, when taken to countries where they have never been seen, are looked at with an astonishment approaching to awe—are even thought supernatural: a fact which will suggest numerous others that show how the localization of phenomena shares in controlling the order in which they are reduced to law. Not only however does their localization in space affect the progression, but also their localization in time. Facts which are rarely if ever manifested in one era, are rendered very frequent in another, simply through the changes wrought by civilization. The lever, of which the properties are illustrated in the use of sticks and weapons, is vaguely understood by every savage—on applying it in a certain way he rightly anticipates certain effects; but the wheel-and-axle, pulley, and screw, cannot have their powers either empirically or rationally known till the advance of the arts has more or less familiarized them. Through those various means of exploration which we have inherited and added to, we have become acquainted with a vast range of chemical relations that were relatively {155} non-existent to the primitive man. To highly-developed industries we owe both the substances and the appliances that have disclosed to us countless uniformities which our ancestors had no opportunity of seeing. These and like instances, show that the accumulated materials, and processes, and products, which characterize the environments of complex societies, greatly increase the accessibility of various classes of relations; and by thus multiplying the experiences of them, or making them relatively frequent, facilitate the generalization of them. Moreover, various classes of phenomena presented by society itself, as for instance those which political economy formulates, become relatively frequent, and therefore recognizable, in advanced social states; while in less advanced ones they are either too rarely displayed to have their relations perceived, or, as in the least advanced ones, are not displayed at all.

That, where no other circumstances interfere, the order in which different uniformities are established varies as their complexity, is manifest. The geometry of straight lines was understood before the geometry of curved lines; the properties of the circle before the properties of the ellipse, parabola, and hyperbola; and the equations of curves of single curvature were ascertained before those of curves of double curvature. Plane trigonometry comes in order of time and simplicity before spherical trigonometry; and the mensuration of plane surfaces and solids before the mensuration of curved surfaces and solids. Similarly with mechanics: the laws of simple motion were generalized before those of compound motion; and those of rectilinear motion before those of curvilinear motion. The properties of equal-armed levers or scales, were understood before those of levers with unequal arms; and the law of the inclined plane was formulated earlier than that of the screw, which involves it. In chemistry the progress has been from the simple inorganic compounds to the more involved or organic compounds. And where, as in the higher sciences, the conditions of the exploration are {156} more complicated, we still may trace relative complexity as determining the order of discovery where other things are equal.

The progression from concrete relations to abstract relations, and from the less abstract to the more abstract, is equally obvious. Numeration, which in its primary form concerned itself only with groups of actual objects, came earlier than simple arithmetic; the rules of which deal with numbers apart from objects. Arithmetic, limited in its sphere to concrete numerical relations, is alike earlier and less abstract than Algebra, which deals with the relations of these relations. And in like manner, the Calculus of Operations comes after Algebra, both in order of evolution and in order of abstractness. In Mechanics, the more concrete relations of forces exhibited in the lever, inclined plane, etc., were understood before the more abstract relations expressed in the laws of resolution and composition of forces; and later than the three abstract laws of motion as formulated by Newton came the still more abstract law of inertia. Similarly with Physics and Chemistry, there has been an advance from truths entangled in all the specialities of particular facts and particular classes of facts, to truths disentangled from the disguising incidents under which they are manifested—to truths of a higher abstractness.

Brief and rude as is this sketch of a mental development which has been long and complicated, I venture to think it shows inductively what was deductively inferred, that the order in which separate groups of uniformities are recognized, depends not on one circumstance but on several circumstances. The various classes of relations are generalized in a certain succession, not solely because of one particular kind of difference in their natures; but also because they are variously placed in time and in space, variously open to observation, and variously related to our own constitutions: our perception of them being influenced by all these conditions in endless combinations. The comparative degrees {157} of importance, of obtrusiveness, of absolute frequency, of relative frequency, of simplicity, of concreteness, are every one of them factors; and from their unions in proportions that are never twice alike, there results a highly complex process of mental evolution. But while it is thus manifest that the proximate causes of the succession in which relations are reduced to law, are numerous and involved; it is also manifest that there is one ultimate cause to which these proximate causes are subordinate. As the several circumstances that determine the early or late recognition of uniformities are circumstances that determine the number and strength of the impressions which these uniformities make on the mind, it follows that the progression conforms to a certain fundamental principle of psychology. We see _a posteriori_, what we concluded _à priori_, that the order in which relations are generalized, depends on the frequency and impressiveness with which they are repeated in conscious experience.

* * * * *

Having roughly analyzed the progress of the past, let us take advantage of the light thus thrown on the present, and consider what is implied respecting the future.

Note, first, that the likelihood of the universality of Law has been ever growing greater. Out of the countless coexistences and sequences with which mankind are environed, they have been continually transferring some from the group whose order was supposed to be arbitrary, to the group whose order is known to be uniform. And manifestly, as fast as the relations which are unreduced to law become fewer, the probability that among them there are some which do not conform to law, becomes less. To put the argument numerically—It is clear that when out of surrounding phenomena a hundred of several kinds have been found to occur in constant connexions, there arises a slight presumption that all phenomena occur in constant connexions. When uniformity has been established in a thousand cases, more varied {158} in their kinds, the presumption gains strength. And when the known cases of uniformity amount to millions, including many of each variety, it becomes an ordinary induction that uniformity exists everywhere.

Silently and insensibly their experiences have been pressing men on towards the conclusion thus drawn. Not out of a conscious regard for these reasons, but from a habit of thought which these reasons formulate and justify, all minds have been advancing towards a belief in the constancy of surrounding coexistences and sequences. Familiarity with concrete uniformities has generated the abstract conception of uniformity—the idea of _Law_; and this idea has been in successive generations slowly gaining fixity and clearness. Especially has it been thus among those whose knowledge of natural phenomena is the most extensive—men of science. The mathematician, the physicist, the astronomer, the chemist, severally acquainted with the vast accumulations of uniformities established by their predecessors, and themselves daily adding new ones as well as verifying the old, acquire a far stronger faith in law than is ordinarily possessed. With them this faith, ceasing to be merely passive, becomes an active stimulus to inquiry. Wherever there exist phenomena of which the dependence is not yet ascertained, these most cultivated intellects, impelled by the conviction that here too there is some invariable connexion, proceed to observe, compare, and experiment; and when they discover the law to which the phenomena conform, as they eventually do, their general belief in the universality of law is further strengthened. So overwhelming is the evidence, and such the effect of this discipline, that to the advanced student of Nature, the proposition that there are lawless phenomena has become not only incredible but almost inconceivable.

This habitual recognition of law which already distinguishes modern thought from ancient thought, must spread among men at large. The fulfilment of fresh predictions that are made possible by every new step, and the further {159} command gained over Nature’s forces, prove to the uninitiated the validity of scientific generalizations and the doctrine they illustrate. Widening education is daily diffusing among the mass of men that knowledge of these generalizations which has been hitherto confined to the few. And as fast as this diffusion goes on, the belief of the scientific must become the belief of the world at large.

* * * * *

That law is universal, will become an irresistible conclusion when it is perceived that _the progress in the discovery of laws itself conforms to law_; and when this perception makes it clear why certain groups of phenomena have been reduced to law, while other groups are still unreduced. When it is seen that the order in which uniformities are recognized, must depend on the frequency and vividness with which they are repeated in conscious experience; when it is seen that, as a matter of fact, the most common, important, conspicuous, concrete, and simple, uniformities were the earliest recognized, because they were experienced oftenest and most distinctly; it will by implication be seen that long after the great mass of phenomena have been generalized, there must remain phenomena which, from their rareness, or unobtrusiveness, or seeming unimportance, or complexity, or abstractness, are still ungeneralized. Thus will be furnished a solution to a difficulty sometimes raised. When it is asked why the universality of law is not already fully established, there will be the answer that the directions in which it is not yet established are those in which its establishment must necessarily be latest. That state of things which is inferable beforehand, is just the state which we find to exist. If such coexistences and sequences as those of Biology and Sociology are not yet reduced to law, the presumption is, not that they are irreducible to law, but that their laws elude our present means of exploration. Having long ago proved uniformity throughout all the lower classes of relations, and having been step by step proving {160} uniformity throughout classes of relations successively higher and higher, if we have not yet succeeded with the highest classes, it may be fairly concluded that our powers are at fault, rather than that the uniformity does not exist. And unless we make the absurd assumption that the process of generalization, now going on with unexampled rapidity, has reached its limit, and will suddenly cease, we must infer that ultimately mankind will discover a constant order even among the most involved and obscure phenomena.

{161}

THE VALUATION OF EVIDENCE.

[_First published in_ The Leader _for June 25, 1853._]

With Spirit-rappings and Table-movings still the rage, and with the belief in Spontaneous Combustion still unextinguished, it seems desirable that something should be said in justification of that general scepticism with which the philosophical meet the alleged wonders that periodically turn the heads of the nation. Nothing less than a bulky octavo would be needed to contain all that might be written on the matter; and unfortunately such an octavo, when written, would be little read by those most requiring it. A brief hint or two, however, may find listeners among them.

“I tell you I saw it myself,” is the so-thought conclusive assertion with which many a controversy is abruptly ended. Commonly those who make this assertion think that after it nothing remains to be urged; and they are astonished at the unreasonableness of those who still withhold their belief. Though they reject many tales of witchcraft, many ghost stories whose marvels were attested by eye-witnesses—though they have repeatedly seen stage-conjurors seem to do things which they do not believe were really done—though they have heard of the Automaton Chess-player and the Invisible Girl, and have perhaps seen explanations of the modes in which the public were deluded by {162} them—though in all these cases they know that the facts were other than the spectators supposed them to be; yet they cannot imagine that their own perceptions have been vitiated by influences like those which vitiated the perceptions of others. Or, to put the thing more charitably and perhaps more truly, they forget that such vitiations are constantly occurring.

To observe correctly, though commonly thought very easy, every man of science knows to be difficult. Our faculties are liable to report falsely from two opposite causes—the presence of hypothesis, and the absence of hypothesis. To the dangers arising from one or other of these, every observation we make is exposed; and between the two it is hard to see any fact _quite_ truly. A few illustrations of the extreme distortions arising from the one cause, and the extreme inaccuracy consequent on the other, will justify this seeming paradox.

Nearly every one is familiar with the myth prevalent on our sea-coasts, respecting the Barnacle Goose. The popular belief was, and indeed is still in some places, that the fruits on branches which hang into the sea become changed into shell-covered creatures called barnacles, found incrusting these submerged branches; and further, that these barnacles are in process of time transformed into the birds known as barnacle geese. This belief was not confined to the vulgar; it was received among naturalists. Nor was it with them simply an adopted rumour. It was based on observations which were recorded and approved by the highest scientific authorities, and published with their countenance. In a paper contained in the _Philosophical Transactions_, Sir Robert Moray says:—“In every shell that I opened . . . there appeared nothing wanting, as to the external parts, for making up a perfect sea-fowl; the little bill like that of a goose, the eyes marked, the head, neck, breast, wings, tail, and feet formed, the feathers everywhere perfectly shaped and blackish coloured, and the feet like those of other {163} waterfowl, to my best remembrance.” Now this myth respecting the barnacle goose has been exploded for some century and a half. To a modern zoologist who examines one of these cirrhipeds, as the barnacles are called, it seems scarcely credible that it could ever have been thought a chick; and what Sir Robert Moray could have taken for “head, neck, breast, wings, tail, feet, and feathers,” he cannot imagine. Under the influence of a pre-conception, here is a man of education describing as “a perfect sea-fowl” what is now known to be a modified crustacean—a creature belonging to a remote part of the animal kingdom.

A still more remarkable instance of perverted observation exists in an old book entitled _Metamorphosis Naturalis_, &c., published at Middleburgh in 1662. This work, in which is attempted for the first time a detailed account of insect-transformations, contains numerous illustrative plates, in which are represented the various stages of evolution—larva, pupa, and imago. Those who have any knowledge of Entomology will recollect that the chrysalises of all our common butterflies exhibit at the anterior end a number of pointed projections, producing an irregular outline. Have they ever observed in this outline a resemblance to a man’s face? For myself, I can say that though in early days I kept brood after brood of butterfly larvæ through all their changes, I never perceived any such likeness; nor can I see it now. Nevertheless, in the plates of this _Metamorphosis Naturalis_, each chrysalis has its projections so modified as to represent a burlesque human head—the respective species having different profiles given them. Whether the author was a believer in metempsychosis, and thought he saw in the chrysalis a disguised humanity; or whether, swayed by the false analogy which Butler makes so much of, between the change from chrysalis to butterfly and that from mortality to immortality, he considered the chrysalis as typical of man; does not appear. Here, however, is the fact, that influenced by some {164} pre-conception or other, he has made his drawings quite different from the actual forms. It is not that he simply thinks this resemblance exists—it is not that he merely says he can see it; but his preconception so possesses him as to swerve his pencil, and make him produce representations laughably unlike the realities.

These, which are extreme cases of distorted perceptions, differ only in degree from the distorted perceptions of daily life; and so strong is the distorting influence that even the man of science cannot escape its effects. Every microscopist knows that if they have conflicting theories respecting its nature, two observers shall look through the same instrument at the same object, and give quite different descriptions of its appearance.

From the dangers of hypothesis let us now turn to the dangers of no hypothesis. Little recognized as is the fact, it is nevertheless true that we cannot make the commonest observation correctly without beforehand having some notion of what we are to observe. You are asked to listen to a faint sound, and you find that without a pre-conception of the _kind_ of sound you are to hear, you cannot hear it. Provided that it is not strong, an unusual flavour in your food may pass quite unperceived, unless some one draws attention to it, when you taste it distinctly. After knowing him for years, you shall suddenly discover that your friend’s nose is slightly awry, and wonder that you never remarked it before. Still more striking becomes this inability when the facts to be observed are complex. Of a hundred people who listen to the dying vibrations of a church bell, almost all fail to perceive the harmonics, and assert the sound to be simple. Scarcely any one who has not practised drawing, sees, when in the street, that all the horizontal lines in the walls, windows, shutters, roofs, seem to converge to one point in the distance: a fact which, after a few lessons in perspective, becomes visible enough.

Perhaps I cannot more clearly illustrate this necessity for {165} hypothesis as a condition to accurate perception, than by narrating a portion of my own experience relative to the colours of shadows.

Indian ink was the pigment which, during boyhood, I invariably used for shading. Ask any one who has received no culture in art, or who has given no thought to it, of what colour a shadow is, and the unhesitating reply will be—black. This is uniformly the creed of the uninitiated; and in this creed I undoubtingly remained till about eighteen. Happening, at that age, to come much in contact with an amateur artist, I was told, to my great surprise, that shadows are not black but of a neutral tint. This, to me, novel doctrine, I strenuously resisted. I have a pretty distinct recollection of denying it point blank, and quoting all my experience in support of the denial. I remember, too, that the controversy lasted over a considerable period; and that it was only after my friend had repeatedly drawn my attention to instances in Nature, that I finally gave in. Though I must previously have seen myriads of shadows, yet in consequence of the fact that very generally the tint approaches to black, I had been unable, in the absence of hypothesis, to perceive that in many cases it is distinctly not black.

I continued to hold this amended doctrine for some years. It is true that from time to time I observed that the tone of the neutral tint varied considerably in different shadows; but still the divergencies were not such as to shake my faith in the dogma. By-and-bye, however, in a popular work on Optics, I met with the statement that the colour of a shadow is always the complement of the colour of the light casting it. Not seeing the wherefore of this alleged law, which seemed moreover to conflict with my established belief, I was led to study the matter as a question of causation. _Why_ are shadows coloured? and what determines the colour? were the queries that suggested themselves. In seeking answers, it soon became manifest {166} that as a space in shadow is a space from which the _direct_ light alone is excluded, and into which the _indirect_ light (namely, that reflected by surrounding objects, by the clouds and by the sky) continues to fall, the colour of a shadow must partake of the colour of everything that can either radiate or reflect light into it. Hence, the colour of a shadow must be _the average colour of the diffused light;_ and must vary, as that varies, with the colours of all surrounding things. Thus was at once explained the inconstancy I had already noticed; and I presently recognized in Nature that which the theory implies—namely, that a shadow may have any colour whatever, according to circumstances. Under a clear sky, and with no trees, hedges, houses, or other objects at hand, shadows are of a pure blue. During a red sunset, mixture of the yellow light from the upper part of the western sky with the blue light from the eastern sky, produces green shadows. Go near to a gas-lamp on a moonlight night, and a pencil-case placed at right angles to a piece of paper will be found to cast a purple-blue shadow and a yellow-grey shadow, produced by the gas and the moon respectively. And there are conditions it would take too long here to describe, under which two parts of the same shadow are differently coloured. All which facts became obvious to me as soon as I knew that they must exist.

Here, then, respecting certain simple phenomena that are hourly visible, are three successive convictions; each of them based on years of observation; each of them held with unhesitating confidence; and yet only one—as I now believe—true. But for the help of an hypothesis, I should probably have remained in the common belief that shadows are black. And but for the help of another hypothesis, I should probably have remained in the half-true belief that they are neutral tint.

Is it not clear, therefore, that to observe correctly is by no means easy? On the one hand, a pre-conception, makes {167} us liable to see things not quite as they are, but as we think them. On the other hand, in the absence of a pre-conception, we are liable to pass over much that we ought to see. Yet we must have either a pre-conception or no pre-conception. Evidently, then, all our observations, save those guided by true theories already reached, are in danger of either distortion or incompleteness.

It remains but to remark, that if our observations are imperfect in cases like the foregoing, where the things seen are persistent, and may be again and again looked at or continuously contemplated; how much more imperfect must they be where the things seen are complex processes, changes, or actions, each presenting successive phases, which, if not truly observed at the moments they severally occur, can never be truly observed at all! Here the chances of error become immensely multiplied. And when, in addition, there exists some moral excitement,—when, as in these Spirit-rapping and Table-turning experiments, the intellect is partially paralysed by fear or wonder correct observation becomes next to an impossibility.

{168}

WHAT IS ELECTRICITY?

[_First published in_ The Reader _for November 19, 1864._]

Probably few, if any, competent physicists have, of late years, used the term “electric fluid” in any other than a conventional sense. When distinguishing electricity into the two kinds, “positive” and “negative,” or “vitreous” and “resinous,” they have used the ideas suggested by these names merely as convenient symbols, and not as representatives of different entities. And, now that heat and light are proved to be modes of motion, it has become obvious that all the allied manifestations of force must be modes of motion.

What is the particular mode of motion which constitutes electricity, thus becomes the question. That it is some kind of molecular vibration, different from the molecular vibrations which luminous bodies give off, is, I presume, taken for granted by all who bring to the consideration of the matter a knowledge of recent discoveries. Beyond those simple oscillations of molecules from which light and heat result, may we not suspect that there will, in some cases, arise compound oscillations? Let us consider whether the conditions under which electricity arises are not such as to generate compound oscillations; and whether the phenomena of electricity are not such as must result from compound oscillations.

The universal antecedent to the production of electricity {169} is the immediate or mediate contact of heterogeneous substances—substances that are heterogeneous either in their molecular constitutions, or in their molecular states. If, then, electricity is some mode of molecular motion, and if, whenever it is produced, the contact of substances having unlike molecules or molecules in unlike states, is the antecedent, there seems thrust upon us the conclusion that electricity results from some mutual action of molecules whose motions are unlike.