Chapter IX: Part 9

This is the hypothesis of molecular vortices. The displacements of the medium during the propagation of light will produce a disturbance of the vortices, and the vortices, when so disturbed, may react on the medium so as to affect the propagation of the ray. The theory proposed is of a provisional kind, resting as it does on unproved hypotheses relating to the nature of molecular vortices, and the mode in which they are affected by the displacement of the medium.

_IV.--Action at a Distance_

There appears to be some prejudice, or _a priori_ objection, against the hypothesis of a medium in which the phenomena of radiation of light and heat, and the electric actions at a distance, take place. It is true that at one time those who speculated as to the cause of physical phenomena were in the habit of accounting for each kind of action at a distance by means of a special æthereal fluid, whose function and property it was to produce these actions. They filled all space three and four times over with æthers of different kinds, the properties of which consisted merely to "save appearances," so that more rational inquirers were willing to accept not only Newton's definite law of attraction at a distance, but even the dogma of Cotes that action at a distance is one of the primary properties of matter, and that no explanation can be more intelligible than this fact. Hence the undulatory theory of light has met with much opposition, directed not against its failure to explain the phenomena, but against its assumption of the existence of a medium in which light is propagated.

The mathematical expression for electro-dynamic action led, in the mind of Gauss, to the conviction that a theory of the propagation of electric action would in time be found to be the very keystone of electro-dynamics. Now, we are unable to conceive of propagation in time, except either as the flight of a material substance through space or as the propagation of a condition of motion or stress in a medium already existing in space.

In the theory of Neumann, the mathematical conception called potential, which we are unable to conceive as a material substance, is supposed to be projected from one particle to another, in a manner which is quite independent of a medium, and which, as Neumann has himself pointed out, is extremely different from that of the propagation of light. In other theories it would appear that the action is supposed to be propagated in a manner somewhat more similar to that of light.

But in all these theories the question naturally occurs: "If something is transmitted from one particle to another at a distance, what is its condition after it had left the one particle, and before it reached the other?" If this something is the potential energy of the two particles, as in Neumann's theory, how are we to conceive this energy as existing in a point of space coinciding neither with the one particle nor with the other? In fact, whenever energy is transmitted from one body to another in time, there must be a medium or substance in which the energy exists after it leaves one body, and before it reaches the other, for energy, as Torricelli remarked, "is a quintessence of so subtile a nature that it cannot be contained in any vessel except the inmost substance of material things."

Hence all these theories lead to the conception of a medium in which the propagation takes place, and if we admit this medium as an hypothesis, I think we ought to endeavour to construct a mental representation of all the details of its action, and this has been my constant aim in this treatise.

ELIE METCHNIKOFF

The Nature of Man

Elie Metchnikoff, Sub-Director of the Pasteur Institute in Paris,
was born May 15, 1845, in the province of Kharkov, Russia, and has
worked at the Pasteur Institute since 1888. The greater part of
Metchnikoff's work is concerned with the most intimate processes of
the body, and notably the means by which it defends itself from the
living agents of disease. He is, indeed, the author of a standard
treatise entitled "Immunity in Infective Diseases." His early work
in zoology led him to study the water-flea, and thence to discover
that the white cells of the human blood oppose, consume, and
destroy invading microbes. Latterly, Metchnikoff has devoted
himself in some measure to more general and especially
philosophical studies, the outcome of which is best represented by
the notable volume on "The Nature of Man," which was published at
Paris in 1903.

_I.--Disharmonies in Nature_

Notwithstanding the real advance made by science, it cannot be disputed that a general uneasiness disturbs the whole world to-day, and the frequency of suicide is increased greatly among civilised peoples. Yet if science turns to study human nature, there may be grounds for hope. The Greeks held human nature and the human body in high esteem, and among the Romans such a philosopher as Seneca said, "Take nature as your guide, for so reason bids you and advises you; to live happily is to live naturally." In our own day Herbert Spencer has expressed again the Greek ideal, seeking the foundation of morality in human nature itself.

But it has often been taught that human nature is composed of two hostile elements, a body and a soul. The soul alone was to be honoured, while the body was regarded as the vile source of evils. This doctrine has had many disastrous consequences, and it is not surprising that in consequence of it celibacy should have been regarded as the ideal state. Art fell from the Greek ideal until the Renaissance, with its return to that ideal, brought new vigour. When the ancient spirit was born again its influence reached science and even religion, and the Reformation was a defence of human nature. The Lutheran doctrines resumed the principle of a "development as complete as possible of all the natural powers" of man, and compulsory celibacy was abolished.

The historical diversity of opinion regarding human nature is what has led me to the attempt to give an exposition of human nature in its strength and in its weakness. But, before dealing with the man himself, we must survey the lower forms of life.

The facts of the organised world, before the appearnace of man, teach us that though we find change and development, development does not always take a progressive march. We are bound to believe, for instance, that the latest products of evolution are not human beings, but certain parasites which live only upon, or in, the human body. The law in nature is not of constant progress, but of constant tendency towards adaptation. Exquisite adaptations, or harmonies, in nature are constantly met with in the world of living beings. But, on the other hand, any close investigation of organisation and life reveals that beside many most perfect harmonies, there are facts which prove the existence of incomplete harmony, or even absolute disharmony. Rudimentary and useless organs are widely distributed. Many insects are exquisitely adapted for sucking the nectar of flowers; many others would wish to do the same, but their want of adaptation baffles them.

It is plain that an instinct, or any other form of disharmony, leading to destruction, cannot increase or even endure very long. The perversion of the maternal instinct, tending to abandonment of the young, is destructive to the stock. In consequence, individuals affected by it do not have the opportunity of transmitting the perversion. If all rabbits, or a majority of them, left their young to die through neglect, it is evident that the species would soon die out. On the contrary, mothers guided by their instinct to nourish and foster their offspring will produce a vigorous generation capable of transmitting the healthy maternal instinct so essential for the preservation of the species. For such a reason harmonious characters are more abundant in nature than injurious peculiarities. The latter, because they are injurious to the individual and to the species, cannot perpetuate themselves indefinitely.

In this way there comes about a constant selection of characters. The useful qualities are handed down and preserved, while noxious characters perish and so disappear. Although disharmonies tend to the destruction of a species, they may themselves disappear without having destroyed the race in which they occur.

This continuous process of natural selection, which offers so good an explanation of the transmutation and origin of species by means of preservation of useful and destruction of harmful characters, was discovered by Darwin and Wallace, and was established by the splendid researches of the former of these.

Long before the appearance of man on the face of the earth, there were some happy beings well adapted to their environment, and some unhappy creatures that followed disharmonious instincts so as to imperil or to destroy their lives. Were such creatures capable of reflection and communication, plainly the fortunate among them, such as orchids and certain wasps, would be on the side of the optimists; they would declare this the best of all possible worlds, and insist that to secure happiness it is necessary only to follow natural instincts. On the other hand, the disharmonious creatures, those ill adapted to the conditions of life, would be pessimistic philosophers. Consider the case of the ladybird, driven by hunger and with a preference for honey, which searches for it on flowers and meets only with failure, or of insects driven by their instincts into the flames, only to lose their wings and their lives; such creatures, plainly, would express as their idea of the world that it was fashioned abominably, and that existence was a mistake.

_II.--Disharmonies in Man_

As for man, the creature most interesting to us, in what category does he fall? Is he a being whose nature is in harmony with the conditions in which he has to live, or is he out of harmony with his environment? A critical examination is needed to answer these questions, and to such an examination the pages to follow are devoted.

Science has proved that man is closely akin to the higher monkeys or anthropoid apes--a fact which we must reckon with if we are to understand human nature. The details of anatomy which show the kinship between man and the apes are numerous and astonishing. All the facts brought to light during the last forty years have supported this truth, and no single fact has been brought against it. Quite lately it has been shown that there are remarkable characters in the blood, such that, though by certain tests the fluid part of human blood can be readily distinguished from that of any other creature, the anthropoid apes, and they alone, furnish an exception to this rule. There is thus verily a close blood-relationship between the human species and the anthropoid apes.

But how man arose we do not know. It is probable that he owes his origin to a mutation--a sudden change comparable with that which De Vries observed in the case of the evening primrose. The new creature possessed a brain of abnormal size placed in a spacious cranium which allowed a rapid development of intellectual faculties. This peculiarity would be transmitted to the descendants, and as it was a very considerable advantage in the struggle for existence, the new race would hold its own, propagate, and prevail.

Although he is a recent arrival on the earth, man has already made great progress, as compared with his ancestors the anthropoid apes, and we learn the same if we compare the higher and lower races of mankind. Yet there remain many disharmonies in the organisation of man, as, for instance, in his digestive system. A simple instance of this kind is furnished by the wisdom teeth. The complete absence of all four wisdom teeth has no influence on mastication, and their presence is very frequently the source of illness and danger. In man they are indeed rudimentary organs, providing another proof of our simian origin. The vermiform appendix, so frequently the cause of illness and death, is another rudimentary organ in the human body, together with the part of the digestive canal to which it is attached. The organ is a very old part of the constitution of mammals, and it is because it has been preserved long after its function has disappeared that we find it occurring in the body of man.

I believe that not only the appendix, but a very large part of the alimentary canal is superfluous, and worse than superfluous. It is, of course, of great importance to the horse, the rabbit, and some other mammals that live exclusively on grain and herbage. The latter part of the alimentary canal, however, must be regarded as one of the organs possessed by man and yet harmful to his health and life. It is the cause of a series of misfortunes. The human stomach also is of little value, and can easily be dispensed with, as surgery has proved. It is because we inherit our alimentary canal from creatures of different dietetic habits that it is impossible for us to take our nutriment in the most perfect form. If we were only to eat substances that could be almost completely absorbed, serious complications would be produced. A satisfactory system of diet has to make allowance for this, and in consequence of the structure of the alimentary canal has to include in the food bulky and indigestible materials, such as vegetables. Lastly, it may be noted that the instinct of appetite in man is largely aberrant. The widespread results of alcoholism show plainly the prevalent existence in man of a want of harmony between the instinct for choosing food and the instinct of preservation.

Far stronger than the social instinct, and far older, is the love of life and the instinct of self-preservation. Devices for the protection of life were developed long before the evolution of mankind, and it is quite certain that animals, even those highest in the scale of life, are unconscious of the inevitability of death and the ultimate fate of all living things. This knowledge is a human acquisition. It has long been recognised that the old attach a higher value to life than do the young. The instinctive love of life and fear of death are of importance in the study of human nature, impossible to over-estimate.

The instinctive love of life is preserved in the aged in its strongest form. I have carefully studied the aged to make certain on this point. It is a terrible disharmony that the instinctive love of life should manifest itself so strongly when death is felt to be so near at hand. Hence the religions of all times have been concerned with the problem of death.

_III.--Science the Only Remedy for Human Disharmonies_

In religion and in philosophy throughout their whole history we find attempts to combat the ills arising from the disharmonies of the human constitution.

Ancient and modern philosophies, like ancient and modern religions, have concerned themselves with the attempt to remedy the ills of human existence, and instinctive fear of death has always ensured that great attention has been paid to the doctrine of immortality.

Science, the youngest daughter of knowledge, has begun to investigate the great problems affecting humanity. Her first steps, taken along the lines first clearly laid down by Bacon, were slow and halting. But medical science has lately made great progress, and has gone very far to control disease, especially in consequence of the work of Pasteur. It is said that science has failed because, for instance, tuberculosis persists, but tuberculosis is propagated not because of the failure of science, but because of the ignorance and stupidity of the population. To diminish the spread of tuberculosis, of typhoid fever, of dysentery, and of many other diseases, it is necessary only to follow the rules of scientific hygiene without waiting for specific remedies.

Science offers us much hope also when it is directed to the study of old age and the phenomena which lead to death.

Man, who is the descendant of some anthropoid ape, has inherited a constitution adapted to an environment very different from that which now surrounds him. He is possessed of a brain very much more highly developed than that of his ancestors, and has entered on a new path in the evolution of the higher organisms. The sudden change in his natural conditions has brought about a large series of organic disharmonies, which become more and more acutely felt as he becomes more intelligent and more sensitive; and thus there has arisen a number of sorrows which poor humanity has tried to relieve by all the means in its power. Humanity in its misery has put question after question to science, and has lost patience at the slowness of the advance of knowledge. It has declared that the answers already found by science are futile and of little interest. But science, confident of its methods, has quietly continued to work. Little by little the answers to some of the questions that have been set have begun to appear.

Man, because of the fundamental disharmonies in his constitution, does not develop normally. The earlier phases of his development are passed through with little trouble; but after maturity greater or lesser abnormality begins, and ends in old age and death that are premature and pathological. Is not the goal of existence the accomplishment of a complete and physiological cycle in which occurs a normal old age, ending in the loss of the instinct of life and the appearance of the instinct of death? But before attaining the normal end, coming after the appearance of the instinct of death, a normal life must be lived; a life filled all through with the feeling that comes from the accomplishment of function. Science has been able to tell us that man, the descendant of animals, has good and evil qualities in his nature, and that his life is made unhappy by the evil qualities.

But the constitution of man is not immutable, and perhaps it may be changed for the better. Morality should be based not on human nature in its existing condition, but on ideal human nature, as it may be in the future. Before all things, it is necessary to try to amend the evolution of human life, that is to say, to transform its disharmonies into harmonies. This task can be undertaken only by science, and to science the opportunity of accomplishing it must be given. Before it is possible to reach the goal mankind must be persuaded that science is all-powerful and that the deeply-rooted existing superstitions are pernicious. It will be necessary to reform many customs and many institutions that now seem to rest on enduring foundations. The abandonment of much that is habitual, and a revolution in the mode of education, will require long and painful effort. But the conviction that science alone is able to redress the disharmonies of the human constitution will lead directly to the improvement of education and to the solidarity of mankind.

The Prolongation of Life

Professor Metchnikoff's volume, on "The Prolongation of Life:
Studies in Optimistic Philosophy," was published in 1907, and is in
some respects the most original of his works. In it he carries much
further the arguments and the studies to which he made brief
allusion in "The Nature of Man," and he lays down certain
principles for the prolongation of life which have been put into
practice by a large number of people during the last two or three
years, and are steadily gaining more attention. Sour milk as an
article of diet appears to have a peculiar value in arresting the
supposed senile changes which are largely due to auto-intoxication
or self-poisoning.

_I.--Senile Debility_

When we study old age in man and the lower animals, we observe certain features common to both. But often among vertebrates there are found animals whose bodies withstand the ravages of time much better than that of man. I think it a fair inference that senility, that precocious senescence which is one of the greatest sorrows of humanity, is not so profoundly seated in the constitution of the higher animals as has generally been supposed. The first facts which we must accept are that human beings who reach extreme old age may preserve their mental qualities, notwithstanding serious physical decay, and that certain of the higher animals can resist the influence of time much longer than is the case with man under present conditions.

Many theories have been advanced regarding the cause of senility. It is certain that many parts of the body continue to thrive and grow even in old age, as, for instance, the nails and hair. But I believe that I have proved that in many parts of the body, especially the higher elements, such as nervous and muscular cells, there is a destruction due to the activity of the white cells of the blood. I have shown also that the blanching of the hair in old age is due to the activity of these white cells, which destroy the hair pigment. Progressive muscular debility is an accompaniment of old age; physical work is seldom given to men over sixty years of age, as it is notorious that they are less capable of it. Their muscular movements are feebler, and soon bring on fatigue; their actions are slow and painful. Even old men whose mental vigour is unimpaired admit their muscular weakness. The physical correlate of this condition is an actual atrophy of the muscles, and has for long been known to observers. I have found that the cause of this atrophy is the consumption of the muscle fibres by what I call phagocytes, or eating cells, a certain kind of white blood cells.

In the case of certain diseases we find symptoms, which look like precocious senility, due to the poison of the disease. It is no mere analogy to suppose that human senescence is the result of a slow but chronic poisoning of the organism. Such poisons, if not completely destroyed or got rid of, weaken the tissues, the functions of which become altered or enfeebled in which the latter have the advantage. But we must make further studies before we can answer the question whether our senescence can be ameliorated.

The duration of the life of animals varies within very wide limits. As a general rule, small animals do not live so long as large ones, but there is no absolute relation between size and longevity, since parrots, ravens, and geese live much longer than many mammals, and than some much larger birds. Buffon long ago argued that the total duration of life bore some definite relation to the length of the period of growth, but further inquiry shows that such a relation cannot be established. Nevertheless, there is something intrinsic in each kind of animal which sets a definite limit to the length of years it can attain. The purely physiological conditions which determine this limit leave room for a considerable amount of variation in longevity. Duration of life, therefore, is a character which can be influenced by the environment.

The duration of life in mammals is relatively shorter than in birds, and in the so-called cold-blooded vertebrates. No indication as to the cause of this difference can be found elsewhere than in the organs of digestion. Mammals are the only group of vertebrate animals in which the large intestine is much developed. This part of the alimentary canal is not important, for it fulfils no notable digestive function. On the other hand, it accommodates among the intestinal flora many microbes which damage health by poisoning the body with their products. Among the intestinal flora there are many microbes which are inoffensive, but others are known to have pernicious properties, and auto-intoxication, or self-poisoning, is the cause of the ill-health which may be traced to their activity. It is indubitable that the intestinal microbes or their poisons may reach the system generally, and bring harm to it. I infer from the facts that the more the digestive tract is charged with microbes, the more it is a source of harm capable of shortening life. As the large intestine not only is that part of the digestive tube most richly charged with microbes, but is relatively more capacious in mammals than in any other vertebrates, it is a just inference that the duration of life of mammals has been notably shortened as the result of chronic poisoning from an abundant intestinal flora.

When we come to study the duration of human life, it is impossible to accept the view that the high mortality between the ages of seventy and seventy-five indicates a natural limit to human life. The fact that many men from seventy to seventy-five years old are well preserved, both physically and intellectually, makes it impossible to regard that age as the natural limit of human life. Philosophers such as Plato, poets such as Goethe and Victor Hugo, artists such as Michael Angelo, Titian, and Franz Hals, produced some of their most important works when they had passed what some regard as the limit of life. Moreover, deaths of people at that age are rarely due to senile debility. Centenarians are really not rare. In France, for instance, nearly 150 centenarians die every year, and extreme longevity is not limited to the white races. Women more frequently become centenarians than men--a fact which supports the general proposition that male mortality is always greater than that of the other sex.

It has been noticed that most centenarians have been people who were poor or in humble circumstances, and whose life has been extremely simple. It may well be said that great riches do not bring a very long life. Poverty generally brings with it sobriety, especially in old age, and sobriety is certainly favourable to long life.

_II.--The Study of Natural Death_

It is surprising to find how little science really knows about death. By natural death I mean to denote death due to the nature of the organism, and not to disease. We may ask whether natural death really occurs, since death so frequently comes by accident or by disease; and certainly the longevity of many plants is amazing. Such ages as three, four, and five thousand years are attributed to the baobab at Cape Verd, certain cypresses, and the sequoias of California. It is plain that among the lower and higher plants there are cases where natural death does not exist; and, further, so far as I can ascertain, it looks as if poisons produced by their own bodies were the cause of natural death among the higher plants where it does occur.

In the human race cases of what may be called natural death are extremely rare; the death of old people is usually due to infectious disease, particularly pneumonia, or to apoplexy. The close analogy between natural death and sleep supports my view that it is due to an auto-intoxication of the organism, since it is very probable that sleep is due to "poisoning" by the products of organic activity.

Although the duration of the life of man is one of the longest amongst mammals, men find it too short. Ought we to listen to the cry of humanity that life is too short, and that it will be well to prolong it? If the question were merely one of prolonging the life of old people, without modifying old age itself, the answer would be doubtful. It must be understood, however, that the prolongation of life will be associated with the preservation of intelligence and of the power to work. When we have reduced or abolished such causes of precocious senility as intemperance and disease, it will no longer be necessary to give pensions at the age of sixty or seventy years. The cost of supporting the old, instead of increasing, will diminish progressively. We must use all our endeavors to allow men to complete their normal course of life, and to make it possible for old men to play their parts as advisers and judges, endowed with their long experience of life.

From time immemorial suggestions have been made for the prolongation of life. Many elixirs have been sought and supposed to have been found, but general hygienic measures have been the most successful in prolonging life and in lessening the ills of old age. That is the teaching of Sir Herman Weber, himself of very great age, who advises general hygienic principles, and especially moderation in all respects. He advises us to avoid alcohol and other stimulants, as well as narcotics and soothing drugs. Certainly the prolongation of life which has come to pass in recent centuries must be attributed to the advance of hygiene; and if hygiene was able to prolong life when little developed, as was the case until recently, we may well believe that with our greater knowledge a much better result will be obtained.

_III.--The Use of Lactic Acid_

The general measures of hygiene directed against infectious diseases play a part in prolonging the lives of old people; but, in addition to the microbes which invade the body from outside, there is a rich source of harm in microbes which inhabit the body. The most important of these belong to the intestinal flora which is abundant and varied. Now the attempt to destroy the intestinal microbes by the use of chemical agents has little chance of success, and the intestine itself may be harmed more than the microbes. If, however, we observe the new-born child we find that, when suckled by its mother, its intestinal microbes are very different and much fewer than if it be fed with cows' milk. I am strongly convinced that it is advantageous to protect ourselves by cooking all kinds of food which, like cows' milk, are exposed to the air. It is well-known that other means--as, for instance, the use of lactic acid--will prevent food outside the body from going bad. Now as lactic fermentation serves so well to arrest putrefaction in general, why should it not be used for the same purpose within the digestive tube? It has been clearly proved that the microbes which produce lactic acid can, and do, control the growth of other microbes within the body, and that the lactic microbe is so much at home in the human body that it is to be found there several weeks after it has been swallowed.

From time immemorial human beings have absorbed quantities of lactic microbes by consuming in the uncooked condition substances such as soured milk, kephir, sauerkraut, or salted cucumbers, which have undergone lactic fermentation. By these means they have unknowingly lessened the evil consequences of intestinal putrefaction. The fact that so many races make soured milk and use it copiously is an excellent testimony to its usefulness, and critical inquiry shows that longevity, with few traces of senility, is conspicuous amongst peoples who use sour milk extensively.

A reader who has little knowledge of such matters may be surprised by my recommendation to absorb large quantities of microbes, as the general belief is that microbes are all harmful. This belief, however, is erroneous. There are many useful microbes, amongst which the lactic bacilli have an honourable place. If it be true that our precocious and unhappy old age is due to poisoning of the tissues, the greater part of the poison coming from the large intestine, inhabited by numberless microbes, it is clear that agents which arrest intestinal putrefaction must at the same time postpone and ameliorate old age. This theoretical view is confirmed by the collection of facts regarding races which live chiefly on soured milk, and amongst which great ages are common.

_IV.--An Ideal Old Age_

As I have shown in the "Nature of Man," the human constitution as it exists to-day, being the result of a long evolution and containing a large animal element, cannot furnish the basis of rational morality. The conception which has come down from antiquity to modern times, of a harmonious activity of all the organs, is no longer appropriate to mankind. Organs which are in course of atrophy must not be re-awakened, and many natural characters which, perhaps, were useful in the case of animals, must be made to disappear in men.

Human nature which, like the constitutions of other organisms, is subject to evolution, must be modified according to a definite ideal. Just as a gardener or stock-raiser is not content with the existing nature of the plants and animals with which he is occupied, but modifies them to suit his purposes, so also the scientific philosopher must not think of existing human nature as immutable, but must try to modify it for the advantage of mankind. As bread is the chief article in the human food, attempts to improve cereals have been made for a very long time, but in order to obtain results much knowledge is necessary. To modify the nature of plants, it is necessary to understand them well, and it is necessary to have an ideal to be aimed at. In the case of mankind the ideal of human nature, towards which we ought to press, may be formed. In my opinion this ideal is "orthobiosis"--that is to say, the development of human life, so that it passes through a long period of old age in active and vigorous health, leading to a final period in which there shall be present a sense of satiety of life, and a wish for death.

Just as we must study the nature of plants before trying to realise our ideal, so also varied and profound knowledge is the first requisite for the ideal of moral conduct. It is necessary not only to know the structure and functions of the human organism, but to have exact ideas on human life as it is in society. Scientific knowledge is so indispensable for moral conduct that ignorance must be placed among the most immoral acts. A mother who rears her child in defiance of good hygiene, from want of knowledge, is acting immorally towards her offspring, notwithstanding her feeling of sympathy. And this also is true of a government which remains in ignorance of the laws which regulate human life and human society.

If the human race come to adopt the principles of orthobiosis, a considerable change in the qualities of men of different ages will follow. Old age will be postponed so much that men of from sixty to seventy years of age will retain their vigour, and will not require to ask assistance in the fashion now necessary. On the other hand, young men of twenty-one years of age will no longer be thought mature or ready to fulfil functions so difficult as taking a share in public affairs. The view which I set forth in the "Nature of Man" regarding the danger which comes from the present interference of young men in political affairs has since then been confirmed in the most striking fashion.

It is easily intelligible that in the new conditions such modern idols as universal suffrage, public opinion, and the _referendum_, in which the ignorant masses are called on to decide questions which demand varied and profound knowledge, will last no longer than the old idols. The progress of human knowledge will bring about the replacement of such institutions by others, in which applied morality will be controlled by the really competent persons. I permit myself to suppose that in these times scientific training will be much more general than it is just now, and that it will occupy the place which it deserves in education and in life.

Our intelligence informs us that man is capable of much, and, therefore, we hope that he may be able to modify his own nature and transform his disharmonies into harmonies. It is only human will that can attain this ideal.

HUGH MILLER

The Old Red Sandstone

Hugh Miller was born in Cromarty, in the North of Scotland, October
10, 1802. From the time he was seventeen until he was thirty-four,
he worked as a common stone-mason, although devoting his leisure
hours to independent researches in natural history, for which he
formed a taste early in life. He became interested in journalism,
and was editor of the Edinburgh "Witness," when, in 1840, he
published the contents of the volume issued a year later as "The
Old Red Sandstone." The book deals with its author's most
distinctive work, namely, finding fossils that tell much of the
history of the Lower Old Red Sandstone, and fixing in the
geological scale the place to which the larger beds of remains
found in the system belong. Besides being a practical and original
geologist, Miller had a fine imaginative power, which enabled him
to reconstruct the past from its ruinous relics. The fact that he
unfortunately set himself the task of combating the theory of
evolution, which was fast gaining ground in his day, should not
blind us to the high value of his geological experiences. The
results of his observations provide some of the most cogent proofs
of the theory he disputed. Late in life Miller's mind gave way, and
he put an end to his own life on December 24, 1856.

_I.--A Stone-mason's Researches_

My advice to young working men desirous of bettering their circumstances, and adding to the amount of their enjoyment, is to seek happiness in study. Learn to make a right use of your eyes; the commonest things are worth looking at--even stones, weeds, and the most familiar animals. There are none of the intellectual or moral faculties, the exercise of which does not lead to enjoyment; hence it is that happiness bears so little reference to station.

Twenty years ago I made my first acquaintance with a life of labour and restraint. I was but a slim, loose-jointed boy at the time, fond of the pretty intangibilities of romance, and of dreaming when broad awake; and, woful change! I was now going to work in a quarry. I was going to exchange all my day-dreams for the kind of life in which men toil every day that they may be enabled to eat, and eat every day that they may be enabled to toil!

That first day was no very formidable beginning of the course of life I had so much dreaded. To be sure, my hands were a little sore, and I felt nearly as much fatigued as if I had been climbing among the rocks; but I had wrought and been useful, and had yet enjoyed the day fully as much as usual. I was as light of heart next morning as any of my brother-workmen. That night, arising out of my employment, I found I had food enough for thought without once thinking of the unhappiness of a life of labour.

In the course of the day I picked up a nodular mass of blue limestone, and laid it open by a stroke of the hammer. Wonderful to relate, it contained inside a beautifully finished piece of sculpture, one of the volutes, apparently, of an Ionic capital. Was there another such curiosity in the whole world? I broke open a few other nodules of similar appearance, and found that there might be. In one of these there were what seemed to be scales of fishes and the impressions of a few minute bivalves, prettily striated; in the centre of another there was actually a piece of decayed wood.

Of all nature's riddles these seemed to me to be at once the most interesting and the most difficult to expound. I treasured them carefully up, and was told by one of the workmen to whom I showed them that there was a part of the shore, about two miles further to the west, where curiously shaped stones, somewhat like the heads of boarding-pikes, were occasionally picked up, and that in his father's day the country people called them thunderbolts. Our first half-holiday I employed in visiting the place where the thunderbolts had fallen so thickly, and found it a richer scene of wonder than I could have fancied even in my dreams.

My first year of labour came to a close, and I found that the amount of my happiness had not been less than in the last of my boyhood. My knowledge had increased in more than the ratio of former seasons; and as I had acquired the skill of at least the common mechanic, I had fitted myself for independence.

My curiosity, once fully awakened, remained awake, and my opportunities of gratifying it have been tolerably ample. I have been an explorer of caves and ravines, a loiterer along sea-shores, a climber among rocks, a labourer in quarries. My profession was a wandering one. I remember passing direct, on one occasion, from the wild western coast of Ross-shire, where the Old Red Sandstone leans at a high angle against the prevailing quartz of the district, to where, on the southern skirts of Midlothian, the Mountain Limestone rises amid the coal. I have resided one season on a raised beach of the Moray Firth. I have spent the season immediately following amid the ancient granite and contorted schists of the central Highlands. In the north I have laid open by thousands the shells and lignites of the oolite; in the south I have disinterred from their matrices of stone or of shale the huge reds and tree ferns of the carboniferous period.

I advise the stone-mason to acquaint himself with geology. Much of his time must be spent amid the rocks and quarries of widely separated localities, and so, in the course of a few years he may pass over the whole geological scale, and this, too, with opportunities of observation at every stage which can be shared with him by only the gentleman of fortune who devotes his whole time to study. Nay, in some respects, his advantages are superior to those of the amateur, for the man whose employments have to be carried on in the same formation for months, perhaps years, enjoys better opportunities of arriving at just conclusions. There are formations which yield their organisms slowly to the discoverer, and the proofs which establish their place in the geological scale more tardily still. I was acquainted with the Old Red Sandstone of Ross and Cromarty for nearly ten years ere I ascertained that it is richly fossiliferous; I was acquainted with it for nearly ten years more ere I could assign its fossils to their exact place in the scale. Nature is vast and knowledge limited, and no individual need despair of adding to the general fund.

_II.--Bridging Life's Gaps_

"The Old Red Sandstone," says a Scottish geologist in a digest of some recent geological discoveries, "has hitherto been considered as remarkably barren of fossils." Only a few years have gone by since men of no low standing in the science disputed the very existence of this formation--or system, rather, for it contains at least three distinct formations. There are some of our British geologists who still regard it as a sort of debatable tract, entitled to no independent status, a sort of common which should be divided.

It will be found, however, that this hitherto neglected system yields in importance to none of the others, whether we take into account its amazing depth, the great extent to which it is developed both at home and abroad, the interesting links which it furnishes in the geological scale, or the vast period of time which it represents. There are localities in which the depth of the Old Red Sandstone fully equals the elevation of Mount Etna over the level of the sea, and in which it contains three distinct groups of organic remains, the one rising in beautiful progression over the other.

My first statement regarding the system must be much the reverse of the one just quoted, for the fossils are remarkably numerous and in a state of high preservation. I have a hundred solid proofs by which to establish the truth of the assertion within less than a yard of me. Half my closet walls are covered with the peculiar fossils of the Lower Old Red Sandstone; and certainly a stranger assemblage of forms has rarely been grouped together--creatures whose very type is lost, fantastic and uncouth, which puzzle the naturalist to assign them even to their class; boat-like animals, furnished with oars and a rudder; fish, plated over, like the tortoise, above and below, with a strong armour of bone, and furnished with but one solitary rudder-like fin; other fish with the membranes of their fins thickly covered with scales; creatures bristling over with thorns; others glistening in an enamelled coat, as if beautifully japanned; the tail in every instance among the less equivocal shapes formed not equally, as in existing fish, on each side the central vertebral column, but chiefly on the lower side--the column sending out its diminished vertebræ to the extreme termination of the fin. All the forms testify of a remote antiquity. The figures on a Chinese vase or an Egyptian obelisk are scarce more unlike what now exists in nature than are the fossils of the Lower Old Red Sandstone.

Lamarck, on the strength of a few striking facts which prove that to a certain extent the instincts of species may be improved and heightened, has concluded that there is a natural progress from the inferior orders of being towards the superior, and that the offspring of creatures low in the scale may belong to a different and nobler species a few thousand years hence. Never was there a fancy so wild and extravagant. The principle of adaptation still leaves the vegetable a vegetable, and the dog a dog. It is true that it is a law of nature that the chain of being is in some degree a continuous chain, and the various classes of existence shade into each other. All the animal families have their connecting links. Geology abounds with creatures of the intermediate class.

Fishes seem to have been the master existences of two great geological systems, mayhap of three, ere the age of reptiles began. Now, fishes differ very much among themselves, some ranking nearly as low as worms, some nearly as high as reptiles; and we find in the Old Red Sandstone series of links which are wanting in the present creation, and the absence of which occasions a wide gap between the two grand divisions of fishes, the bony and the cartilaginous.

Of all the organisms of the system one of the most extraordinary is the pterichthys, or winged fish, which the writer had the pleasure of introducing to the acquaintance of geologists. Had Lamarck been the discoverer he would unquestionably have held that he had caught a fish almost in the act of wishing itself into a bird. There are wings which want only feathers, a body which seems to have been as well adapted for passing through the air as through water, and a tail with which to steer.

My first idea regarding it was that I had discovered a connecting link-between the tortoise and the fish. I submitted some of my specimens to Mr. Murchison, and they furnished him with additional data by which to construct the calculations he was then making respecting fossils, and they added a new and very singular link to the chain of existence in its relation to human knowledge. Agassiz confirmed the conclusions of Murchison in almost every particular, deciding at once that the creature must have been a fish.

Next to the pterichthys of the Lower Old Red Sandstone I shall place its contemporary the coccosteus of Agassiz--a fish which in some respects must have resembled it. Both were covered with an armour of thickly tubercled bony plates, and both furnished with a vertebrated tail. The coccosteus seems to have been most abundant. Another of the families of the ichthyolites of the Old Red Sandstone--the cephalaspis--seems almost to constitute a connecting link between fishes and crustaceans. In the present creation fishes are either osseous or cartilaginous, that is, with bony skeletons, or with a framework of elastic, semi-transparent animal matter, like the shark; and the ichthyolites of the Old Red Sandstone unite these characteristics, resembling in some respects the osseous and in others the cartilaginous tribes. Agassiz at once confirmed my suspicion that the ichthyolites of the Old Red Sandstone were intermediate. Though it required skill to determine the place of the pterichthys and coccosteus there could be no mistaking the osteolepis--it must have been a fish, and a handsome one, too. But while its head resembled the heads of the bony fishes, its tail differed in no respects from the tails of the cartilaginous ones. And so through the discovery of extinct species the gaps between existing species have been bridged.

_III.--Place-Fixing in the Dim Past_

The next step was to fix the exact place of the ichthyolites in the geological scale, and this I was enabled to do by finding a large and complete bed _in situ_. Its true place is a little more than a hundred feet above the top, and not much more than a hundred yards above the base of the great conglomerate.

The Old Red Sandstone in Scotland and in England has its lower, middle, and upper groups--three distinct formations. As the pterichthys and coccosteus are the characteristic ichthyolites of the Lower Old Red formation, so the cephalaspis distinguishes the middle or coronstone division of the system in England. When we pass to the upper formation, we find the holoptychius the most characteristic fossil.

These fossils are found in a degree of entireness which depends less on their age than on the nature of the rock in which they occur. Limestone is the preserving salt of the geological world, and the conservative qualities of the shales and stratified clays of the Lower Old Red Sandstone are not much inferior to limestone itself; while in the Upper Old Red the beds of consolidated sand are much less conservative of organic remains. The older fossils, therefore, can be described almost as minutely as the existence of the present creation, whereas the newer fossils exist, except in a few rare cases, as fragments, and demand the powers of a Cuvier or an Agassiz to restore them to their original combinations. On the other hand, while the organisms of the Lower Old Red are numerous and well preserved, those of the Upper Old Red are much greater in individual size. In short, the fish of the lower ocean must have ranged in size between a stickleback and a cod; whereas some of the fish of the ocean of the Upper Sandstone were covered with scales as large as oyster shells, and were armed with teeth that rivalled in size those of the crocodile.

_IV.--Fish as Nature's Last Word_

I will now attempt to present to the reader the Old Red Sandstone as it existed in time--during the succeeding periods of its formation, and when its existences lived and moved as the denizens of primeval oceans. We pass from the cemetery with its heaps of bones to the ancient city full of life and animation in all its streets and dwellings.

Before we commence our picture, two great geological periods have come to their close, and the floor of the widely spread ocean is occupied to the depth of many thousand feet by the remains of bygone existences. The rocks of these two earlier periods are those of the Cambrian and Silurian groups. The lower--Cambrian, representative of the first glimmering twilight of being--must be regarded as a period of uncertainty. It remains for future discoverers to determine regarding the shapes of life that burrowed in its ooze or careered through the incumbent waters.

There is less doubt respecting the existences of the Silurian rocks. Four distinct platforms of being range in it, the one over the other, like the stories of a building. Life abounded on all these platforms, and in shapes the most wonderful. In the period of the Upper Silurian fish, properly so called, and of a very perfect organisation, had taken precedence of the crustacean. These most ancient beings of their class were cartilaginous fishes, and they appear to have been introduced by myriads. Such are the remains of what seem to have been the first vertebrata.

The history of the period represented by the Old Red Sandstone seems, in what now forms the northern half of Scotland, to have opened amid confusion and turmoil. The finely laminated Tilestones of England were deposited evidently in a calm sea. During the contemporary period the space which now includes Orkney, Lochness, Dingwall, Gamrie, and many a thousand square miles besides, was the scene of a shallow ocean, perplexed by powerful currents and agitated by waves. A vast stratum of water-rolled pebbles, varying in depth from a hundred feet to a hundred yards, remains, in a thousand different localities, to testify to the disturbing agencies of this time of commotion, though it is difficult to conceive how the bottom of any sea could have been so violently and equally agitated for so greatly extended a space.