WWWW' ^(^m,x \^^M i,< ■",?*.'< N %^^fAiii^'/(^:^:?!^}iMiU fotnrti phtMg Cornell University Library B1655 .R2 1871 Recent discussions in science philosoph olln 3 1924 029 047 698 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029047698 EECENT DISCUSSIONS SCIENCE, PHILOSOPHY, AND MORALS. BY HERBERT SPENCER, AUTHOB OP "riKST PRINOIPLBB," "THB PRINCIPLES OI" BIOIiOBT," "IHB PBinCIFLES or FSTCHOLOOT," ETC. NEW YORK : D. APPLETON" AND COMPANY, 549 & 551 BEOADWAY. cornell\ university LIBRARY^ Ehtebed, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, By D. APPLETON & COMPANY, In the OfSce of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. PREFACE. The present volume consists mainly of mattex* that is new to the American public. Three of the essays have not before appeared in this country, and two of the others, issued as a pamphlet, have had so small a circulation as to have been seen by but few readers. These several discussions have been drawn from Mr. Spencer at various times to correct misapprehensions and misrepresentations that have been made regarding the doctrines of his system of Philosophy. Some of them form valuable extensions of these doctrines, and all will be useful in promoting their right interpretation. Why the closing article has been taken from another volume and appended to this collec- tion, requires a few words of explanation. Seventeen years ago, Mr. Spencer published an elabo- rate Eeview article entitled "The Genesis of Science," in which he objected to Comte's views of the classification of the Sciences. Although Mr. Spencer's criticisms in- volved a radical dissent from the peculiar views of M. Comte, and what was held as fundamental in his philoso- phy, yet upon the publication of his own philosophical * PEEFACE. system Mr. Spencer found himself ranked as a positivist and a follower of Comte. Against this he repeatedly pro- tested in public letters ; but the charge was so continually reiterated that at length he found himself compelled to make a more formal statement of the differences between himself and the French philosopher. The result of this was a pamphlet published in 1864, in which he followed the rejection of Comte's classification by the promulgation of his own view, and appended a detailed statement of the differences between his doctrine and the doctrines of M. Comte. Some of his views of classification having been adversely criticised by Mr. Bain and Mr. Mill, he has replied to their strictures in a new article in the pres- ent volume. The general question is one of great interest to scientific students ; and, for the convenience of those who desire to form an intelligent judgment of Mr. Spen- cer's case, both as contrasted with that of Comte, and on its own independent merits, it has been thought desirable to incorporate the original article on " The Genesis of Science " in this collection. Though placed last, it should be read first by those not already familiar with the dis- cussion. New Yoek, Jfflsy, 1871. CONTENTS. PAOB I, — M0EAL3 AND MORAL SENTIMENTS, . . . ' . . 9 II. — OEIGIN OF ANIMAL ■WOESHTP, 33 III. — THE OLASaiTIOATIOM OF THE SOIENOES, .... 63 IT. — POSTSOEIPT — EEPLTINa TO OEITIOISMS, .... 89 T. — EBASONS FOE DISSKNTINa FEOM THE PHILOSOPHY OF OOMTB, 115 VI. — OF LAWS IN GENBEAL, AND THE OEDEE OF THEIE DISOOVEET, 139 Vll. — THE GENESIS OF SOIBNOB, 157 I. MORALS AND MORAL SENTLMENT8. [FROM THE FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW, APMI., 1871.] MORALS AND MOEAL SENTIMENTS. If a writer who discusses unsettled questions takes up every gauntlet thrown down to him, polemical writing will absorb much of his energy. Having a power of work which unfortunately does not suffice for executing with any thing like due rapidity the task I have under- taken, I have made it a policy to avoid controversy as much as possible, even at the cost of being seriously mis- understood. Hence it happened that, when, in Macmil- lan's Magazine for July, 1869, Mr. Kichard Hutton pub- lished, under the title of " A Questionable Parentage for Morals," a criticism upon a doctrine of mine, I decided to let his misrepresentations remain unnoticed until, in the course of my work, I arrived at the stage where, by a full exposition of this doctrine, they would be set aside. It did not occur to me that, in the mean time, these erro- neous statements, accepted as true statements, would be repeated by other writers, and my views commented upon as untenable. This, however, has happened. In more periodicals than one, I have seen it asserted that Mr. Hutton has effectually disposed of my hypothesis. Sup- posing that this hypothesis has been rightly expressed by Mr. Hutton, Sir John Lubbock, in his " Origin of Civili- zation," etc., has been led to express a partial dissent ; which I think he would not have expressed had my own exposition been before him. Mr. Mivart, too, in his 10 MOEALS AND MOEAL SENTIMENTS. recent " Genesis of Species," lias been similarly betrayed into misapprehensions. And now Sir Alexander Grant, following the same lead, has conveyed to the readers of the Fortnightly Review another of these conceptions, which is but very partially true. Thus I find myself compelled to say as much as will serve to prevent further spread of the mischief. If a general doctrine concerning a highly-involved class of phenomena could be adequately presented in a single paragraph of a letter, the writing of books would be superfluous. In the brief exposition of certain ethical doctrines held by me, which is given in Prof. Bain's " Mental and Moral Science," it is stated that they are — "as yet nowhere fully expressed. They form part of the more gen- eral doctrine of Evolution which he is engaged in working ont ; and they are at present to be gathered only from scattered passages. It is true that, in his first work, ' Social Statics,' he presented what he then regarded as a tolerably complete view of one division of Morals. But, without abandoning this view, he now regards it as inadequate — more especially in respect of its basis." Mr. Hutton, however, taking the bare enunciation of one part of this basis, deals with it critically ; and, in the absence of any exposition of it by me, sets forth what he supposes to be my grounds for it, and proceeds to show that they are unsatisfactory. If, in his anxiety to suppress what he doubtless re- gards as a pernicious doctrine, Mr. Hutton could not wait until I had explained myself, it might have been expected that he would use whatever information was to be had for rightly construing it. So far from seeking out such information, however, he has, in a way for which I can- not account, ignored the information immediately before him. PEIMAET BASIS Of MOEALS. " 11 The title which. Mr. Hutton has chosen for his criticism is, "A Questionable Parentage for Morals." Now, he has ample means of knowing that I allege a pri- mary basis of Morals, quite independent of that which he describes and rejects. I do not refer merely to the fact that, having, when he reviewed " Social Statics," ' ex- pressed his very decided dissent from this primary basis, he must have been aware that I allege it ; for he may say that in the long interval which has elapsed he had for- gotten all about it. But I refer to the distinct enuncia- tion of this primary basis in that letter to Mr. Mill from which he quotes. In a preceding paragraph of the letter, I have explained that, while I accept utilitarianism in the abstract, I do not accept that current utilitarianism which recognizes for the guidance of conduct nothing beyond empirical generalizations ; and I have contended that — " Morality, properly so called — ^the science of right conduct — has for its object to determine how and wAy certain modes of conduct are detrimental, and certain other modes beneficial. These good and bad results cannot be accidental, but must be necessary consequences of the constitution of things ; and I conceive it to be the business of Moral Science to deduce, from the laws of life and the conditions of existence, what kinds of action necessarily tend to produce happi- ness, and what kinds to produce unhappiness. Having done this, its deductions are to be recognized as laws of conduct; and are to be conformed to irrespective of a direct estimation of happiness or misery." Nor is this the only enunciation of what I conceive to be the primary basis of morals, contained in this same letter. A subsequent paragraph, separated by four lines only from that which Mr. Hutton extracts, commences thus : " Progressing civilization, which is of necessity a succession of compromises between old and new, requires a perpetual readjust- ' See Prospective Beview for January, 1852. 12 MOEALS AND MOEAL SENTIMENTS. ment of the compromise between the ideal and the practicable in social arrangements : to which end, both elements of the compro- mise must be kept in view. If it is true that pure rectitude pre- scribes a system of things far too good for men as they are, it is not less true that mere expediency does not of itself tend to establish a system of things any better than tliat which exists. While absolute morality owes to expediency the checks which prevent it from rush- ing into Utopian absurdities, expediency is indebted to absolute mo- rality for all stimulus to improvement. Granted that we are chiefly interested in ascertaining what is relativel/y right, it still follows that we must first consider what is absolutely right ; since the one con- ception presupposes the other." I do not see how tliere could well be a more em- phatic assertion that there exists a primary basis of mor- als independent of, and in a sense antecedent to, that which is furnished by experiences of utility ; and, conse- quently, independent of, and in a sense antecedent to, those moral sentiments which I conceive to be generated by such experiences. Yet no one could gather from Mr. Hutton's article that I assert this ; or would even find reasons for a faint suspicion that I do so. From the reference made to my further views, he would infer my acceptance of that empirical utilitarianism which I have expressly repudiated. And the title which Mr. Hutton gives to his paper clearly asserts, by implication, that I recognize no " parentage for morals " beyond that of the accumulation and organization of the effects of experi- ence. I cannot believe that Mr. Hutton intended to con- vey this erroneous impression. He was, I suppose, too much absorbed in contemplating the proposition he com- bats to observe, or, at least, to attach any weight to, the propositions which accompany it. But I regret that he did not perceive the mischief he was likely to do me by spreading this one-sided statement. I pass now to the particular question at issue — not GENESIS OF MOEAL SENTIMENTS. 13 the " parentage for morals," but the parentage of moral sentiments. In his version of my view on this more spe- cial doctrine, Mr. Hntton has similarly, I regret to say, neglected the data which would have helped him to draw an approximately true outline of it. It cannot well be that the existence of such data was unknown to him. They are contained in the " Principles of Psychology ; " and Mr. Hutton reviewed that work when it was first published.' In the chapter on The Feelings, which occurs near the end of that work, there is sketched out a pro- cess of genesis by no means like that which Mr. Hutton indicates ; and had*he turned to that chapter he would have seen that his description of the genesis of the moral sentiments out of organized experiences is not such a one as I should have given. Let me quote a passage from that chapter : " Not only are those emotions wHch form the immediate stimuli to actions thus explicable, but the lilie explanation, applies to the emotions that leave the subject of them comparatively passive : as, for instance, the emotion produced by beautifiil scenery. The grad- ually increasing complexity in the groups of sensations and ideas co- ordinated, ends in the coordination of those vast aggregations of them vrhich a grand landscape excites and suggests. The infant taken into the midst of mountains is totally unaffected by them ; but is delighted with the small group of attributes and relations pre- sented in a toy. The child can appreciate, and be pleased v^ith, the more complicated relations of household objects and localities, the garden, the field, and the street. But it is only in youth and mature age, when individual things and small assemblages of them have become familiar and automatically cognizable, that those immense assemblages which landscapes present can be adequately grasped, and the highly aggregated states of consciousness produced by them, experienced. Then, however, the various minor groups of states, that have been in earlier days severally produced by trees, by fields, ' His oritioism will be found in the National Beview for January, 1856, under the title " Atheism." 14 MORALS AUD MOEAL SENTIMENTS. by streams, by cascades, by rooks, by precipices, by mountains, by clouds, are aroused togetlier. Along with the sensations immediate- ly received, there are partially excited the myriads of sensations that have been in times past received from objects such as those pre- sented ; further, there are partially excited the various incidental feelings that were experienced on all these countless past occasions ; and there are probably also excited certain deeper, but now vague, combinations of states, that were organized in the race during bar- barous times, when its pleasurable activities were chiefly among the woods and waters. And out of all these excitations, some of them actual, but most of them nascent, is composed the emotion which a fine landscape produces in us." It is, I think, amply manifest tha* tlie processes liere indicated are not to be taken as intellectual processes — not as processes in which recognized relations between pleasures and their antecedents, or intelligent adaptations of means to ends, form the dominant elements. The state of mind produced by an aggregate of picturesque objects is not one resolvable into propositions. The sentiment does not contain within itself any consciousness of causes and consequences of happiness. The vague recollections of other beautiful scenes and other delightful days which it dimly rouses, are not aroused because of any rational coordinations of ideas that have been formed in by-gone days. Mr. Hutton, however, has assumed that in the genesis of moral feelings as due to inherited experiences of the pleasures and pains arising from certain modes of conduct, I am speaking of reasoned-out experiences — experiences consciously accumulated and generalized. He altogether overlooks the fact that the genesis of emotions is distinguished from the genesis of ideas in this : that whereas the ideas are composed of elements that are simple, definitely related, and (in the case of general ideas) constantly related, emotions are composed of enor- mously complex aggregates of elements which are never GENESIS OF EMOTIONS. 15 twice alike, and that stand in relations wMeh are never twice alike. The difference in the resulting modes of consciousness is this : In the genesis of an idea the suc- cessive experiences, be they of sounds, colors, touches, tastes, or be they of the special objects that combine many of these into groups, have so much in common that each, when it occurs, can be definitely thought of as like those which preceded it. But in the genesis of an emotion the successive experiences so far differ that each of them, when it occurs, suggests past experiences which are not specifically similar, but have only a general similarity ; and, at the same time, it suggests benefits or evils in past experience which likewise are various in their special natures, though they have a certain community of general nature. Hence it results that the consciousness aroused is a multitudinous, confused consciousness, in which, along with a certain kind of combination among the impressions received from without, there is a vague cloud of ideal combinations akin to them, and a vague mass of ideal feelings of pleasure or pain that were associated with these. We have abundant proof that feelings grow up without reference to recognized causes and consequences, and without the possessor of them being able to say why they have grown up ; though analysis, nevertheless, shows that they have been formed out of connected experiences. The familiar fact to which, I suppose, almost every one can testify, that a kind of jam which was, during child- hood, repeatedly taken after medicine, may become by simple association of sensations so nauseous that it cannot be tolerated in after-life, illustrates clearly enough the way in which repugnances may be established by habitual association of feelings, without any idea of causal connec- tion; or rather, in spite of the knowledge that there is no causal connection. Similarly with pleasurable emotions. 16 MOEAIS AND MOKAL SENTIMENTS. The cawing of a rook is not ia itself an agreeable sound — ^musically considered, it is very mucli the contrary. Yet the cawing of rooks usually produces in people very pleasurable feelings — feelings which most of them suppose to result from the quality of the sound itself. Only the few who are given to self-analysis are aware that the cawing of rooks is agreeable to them because it has been connected with countless of their greatest gratifications — with the gathering of wild-flowers in childhood ; with Saturday-afternoon excursions in school-boy days ; with midsummer holidays in the country, when books were thrown aside, and lessons were replaced by games and adventures in the fields ; with fresh, sunny mornings in after-years, when a walking-excursion was an immense relief from toil. As it is, this sound, though not causally related to all these multitudinous and varied past delights, but only often associated with them, can no more be heard without rousing a dim consciousness of these de- lights, than the voi^ of an old friend unexpectedly coming into the house can be heard without suddenly raising a wave of that feeling that has resulted from the pleasures of past companionship. If we are to understand the genesis of emotions, either in the individual or in the race, we must take account of this all-important process. Mr. Hutton, however, apparently overlooking it, and not having reminded himself, by referring to the " Principles of Psychology," that I insist npon it, represents my hy- pothesis to be that a certain sentiment results from the consolidation of intellectual conclusions I He speaks of me as believing that " what seems to us now the ' neces- sary' intuitions and a priori assumptions of human nature, are likely to prove, when scientifically analyzed, nothing but a similar conglomeration of our ancestors' hest observations and most useful envpirical rules.'''' He EXPEEIENCES OF UTILITY. IT supposes me to think that men having, in past times, come to see that truthfulness was useful, " the habit of approving truth-speaking and fidelity to engagements, which was first based on this ground of utility, became so rooted, that the utilitarian ground of it was forgotten, and we find ourselves springing to the belief in truth-speaking and fidelity to engagements from an inherited tendency." Similarly throughout, Mr. Hutton has so used the word "utility,^' and so interpreted it on my behalf, as to make me appear to mean that moral sentiment is formed out of conscious generaUzations respecting what is beneficial and what detrimental. Were such my hypothesis, his criticisms would be veiy much to the point ; but as such is not my hypothesis, they fall to the ground. The ex- periences of utility I refer to are those which become registered, not as distinctly-recognized connections be- tween certain kinds of acts and certain kinds of remote results, but those which become registered in the shape of associations between groups of feelings that have often recurred together, though the relation between them has not been consciously generalized — associations the origin of which may be as little perceived as is the origin of the pleasure given by the sounds of a rookery; but which, nevertheless, have arisen in the course of daily converse with things, and serve as incentives or de- terrents. In the paragraph which Mr. Hutton has extracted from my letter to Mr. MiU, I have indicated an analogy between those effects of emotional experiences out of which I believe moral sentiments have been developed, and those effects of intellectual experiences out of which I believe space-intuitions have been developed. Eightly considering that the first of these hypotheses cannot stand if the last is disproved, Mr. Hutton has directed part of 18 M0EAI.8 AlTD MOEAIi SENTIMENTS. his attack against this last. But would it not have been well if he had referred to the " Principles of Psychology," where this last hypothesis is set forth at length, before criticising it? "Would it not have been well to have given an abstract of my own description of the process, instead of substituting what he supposes vaj description must be ? Any one who turns to the " Principles of Psy- chology " (first edition, pp. 218-245), and reads the two chapters. The Perception of Body as presenting Statical Attributes, and The Perception of Space, wiU find that Mr. Hutton's account of my view on this matter has given him no notion of the view as it is expressed by me ; and will, perhaps, be less inclined to smile than he was when he read Mr. Hutton's account. I cannot here do more than thus imply the invalidity of such part of Mr. Hutton's argument as proceeds upon this incorrect repre- sentation. The pages that would be required for properly explaining the doctrine that space-intuitions result from organized experiences may be better used for explaining this analogous doctrine at present before us. This I will now endeavor to do ; not indirectly by correcting misap- prehensions, but directly by an exposition which shall be as brief as the extremely involved nature of the process allows. - An infant in arms, that is old enough to gaze at objects around with some vague recognition, smiles in response to the laughing face and soft, caressing voice of its mother. Let there come some one who, with an angry face, speaks to it in loud, harsh tones. The smile dis- appears, the features contract into an expression of pain, and, beginning to .cry, it turns away its head and makes such movements of escape as are possible. What is the meaning of these facts ? Why does not the frown make it smile, and the mother's laugh make it weep ? There INFANT EMOTION AND EXPEESSION. 19 is but one answer. Already in its developing brain there is coming into play the structure through -which one cluster of visual and auditory impressions excites pleasur- able feelings, and the structure through which another cluster of visual and auditory impressions excites painful feelings. The infant knows no more about the relation existing between a ferocious expression of face, and the evils that may follow the perception of it, than the young bird just out of its nest knows of the possible pain and death which may be inflicted by a man coming toward it ; and as certainly in the one case as in the other, the alarm felt is due to a partially-established nervous struct- ure. "Why does this partially-established nervous struct- ure betray its presence thns early in the human being ? Simply because, in the past experiences of the human race, smiles and gentle tones in those around have been the habitual accompaniments of pleasurable feelings; while pains of many kinds, immediate and more or less remote, have been continually associated with the im- pressions received from knit brows and set teeth and grating voice. Much deeper dovm than the history of the human race must we go to find the beginnings of these connections. The appearances and sounds which excite in the infant a vague dread, indicate dangen ; and do BO because they are the physiological accompaniments of destructive action — some of them common to man and inferior mammals, and consequently understood by inferior mammals, as every puppy shows us. What we call the natural language of anger, is due to a partial contraction of those muscles which actual combat would call into play; and all marks of irritation, down to that passing shade over the brow which accompanies slight annoyance, are incipient stages of these same contractions. Conversely with the natural language of pleasure, and of that state 20 MOEALS AND MOEAL SENTrMEfTrS. of mind whicli we call amicable feeling : this, too, has a physiological interpretation.' Let lis pass now from the infant in arms to the chil- dren in the nursery. What have the experiences of each one of these been doing in aid of the emotional develop- ment we are considering? While its limbs have been growing more agile by exercise, its manipulative skill increasing by practice, its perceptions of objects growing by use quicker, more accurate, more comprehensive ; the associations between these two sets of impressions received from those around, and the pleasures and pains received along with them, or after them, have been by frequent repetition made stronger, and their adjustments better. The dim sense of pain and the vague glow of delight which the infant felt, have, in the urchin, severally taken shapes that are more definite. The angry voice of a nurse-maid no longer arouses only a formless feeling of dread, but also a specific idea of the slap that may follow. The frown on the face of a bigger brother, along with the primitive, indefinable sense of ill, brings the sense of ills that are definable in thought as kicks, and ciijSs, and pulKngs of hair, and losses of toys. The faces of parents, looking now sunny, now gloomy, have grown to be re- spectively associated with multitudinous forms of gratifi- cation and multitudinous forms of discomfort or privation. Hence these appearances and sounds, which imply amity or emnity in those around, become symbolic of happiness and misery ; so that eventually perception of the one set or the other can scarcely occur without raising a wave of pleasurable feeling or of painful feeling. The body of this wave is still substantially of the same nature as it was ' Hereafter I hope to elucidate at length these phenomena of expression. jFor the present, I can refer only to such farther indications as are contsuned in two essays on The Physiology of Laughter and the Origin and Function of Music. EMOTIONS OF CHILDEEN AND BAVAGES. 21 at first; for tliougli in each of these multitudinous ex- periences a special set of facial and vocal signs has been connected with a special set of pleasures or pains, yet since these pleasures or pains have been immensely varied in their kinds and combinations, and since the signs that preceded them were in no two cases quite alike, it results that to the last the consciousness produced remains as vague as it is voluminous. The myriads of partially- aroused ideas resulting from past experiences are massed together and superposed, so as to form an aggregate in which nothing is distinct, but which has the character of being pleasurable or painful according to the nature of its original components ; the chief difference between this developed feeling and the feeling aroused in the infant being, that on bright or dark background forming the body of it, may now be sketched out in thought the par- ticular pleasures or pains which the particular circum- stances suggest as likely. "What must be the working of this process under the conditions of aboriginal life ? The emotions given to the young savage by the natural language of love and hate in the members of his tribe, gain first a partial definiteness in respect to his intercourse with his family and play- mates ; and he learns by experience the utility, in so far as his own ends are concerned, of avoiding courses which call from others manifestations of anger, and taking courses which call from them manifestations of pleasure. Not that he consciously generalizes. He does not at that age, probably not at any age, formulate his experiences in the general principle that it is well for him to do things which bring smiles from others, and to avoid doing things which bring frowns. What happens is, that having, in the way shown, inherited this connection between the perception of anger in others and the feeling of dread, and having 22 MOEAXS AlTD MOEAL SENTIMENTS. discovered that particular acts of his bring on this anger, he cannot subsequently think of committing one of these acts without thinking of the resulting anger, and feeling more or less of the resulting dread. He has no thought of the utility or inutility of the act itself; the deterrent is the mainly vague, but partially definite, fear of evil that may follow. So understood, the deterring emotion is one that has grown out of experiences of utility, using that word in its ethical sense ; and if we ask why this dreaded anger is called forth from others, we shall habitually find that it is because the forbidden act entails pain some- where — is negatived by utility. On passing from the domestic injunctions to the injunctions current in the tribe, we see no less clearly how these emotions produced by approbation and reprobation come to be connected in experience with actions that are beneficial to the tribe, and actions that are detrimental to the tribe ; and how there consequently grow up incentives to the one class of actions and prejudices against the other class. From early boyhood the young savage hears recounted the daring deeds of his chief — hears them in words of praise, and sees all faces glowing with admiration. From time to time also he listens while some one's cowardice is described in tones of scorn, and with contemptuous metaphors, and sees him meet with derision and insult whenever he appears. That is to say, one of the things that comes to be strongly associated in his mind with smiling faces, which are symbolical of pleasures in general, is courage ; and one of the things that comes to be associated in his mind with frowns and other marks of enmity, which form his symbol of unhappiness, is cowardice. These feelings are not formed in him because he has reasoned his way to the truth that courage is useful to the tribe, and, by implication, to himself, or to the truth that cowardice is a OTHEE FOEMS OF EESTEAINT. 23 cause of evil. In adult life he may, perhaps, see this ; but he certainly does not see it at the time when bravery is thus associated in his consciousness with all that is good, and cowardice with all that is bad. Similarly there are produced in him feelings of inclination or repugnance toward other lines of conduct that have become estab- lished or interdicted, because they are beneficial or inju- rious to the tribe; though neither the young nor the adults know why they have become established ' or interdicted. Instance the praiseworthiness of wife-steal- ing, and the vieiousness of marrying within the tribe. We may now ascend a stage to an order of incentives and restraints derived from these. The primitive belief is that every dead man becomes a demon, who remains somewhere at hand, may at any moment return, may give aid or do mischief, and iS continually propitiated. Hence, among other agents whose approbation or reprobation is contemplated by the savage as a consequeiice of his con- duct, are the spirits of his ancestors. When a child he is told of their deeds, now in triumphant tones, now in whis- pers of horror ; and the instilled belief that they may inflict some vaguely-imagined but fearful evil, or give some great help, becomes a powerful incentive or deterrent. Espe- cially does this happen when the narrative is of a chief, distinguished for his strength, his ferocity, his persistence in that revenge which the experiences of the savage make him regard as beneficial and virtuous. The conscious- ness that such a chief, dreaded by neighboring tribes, and dreaded, too, by members of his own tribe, may reappear and punish those who have disregarded his injunctions, becomes a powerful motive. But it is clear, in the first place, that the imagined anger and the imagined satisfac- tion of this deified chief are simply transfigured forms of the anger and satisfaction displayed by those around ; and 24 MOEALS AND MOEAL SENTIMENTS. that the feelings accompanying such imaginations have the same original root in the experiences which hare associated an average of painful results with the manifestation of another's anger, and an average of pleasurable results with the manifestation of another's satisfaction. And it is clear, in the second place, that the actions thus forbidden and encouraged must be mostly actions that are respec- tively detrimental and beneficial to the tribe ; since the successful chief is usually a better judge than the rest, and has the preservation of the tribe at heart. Hence experiences of utility, consciously or unconsciously organ- ized, underlie his injunctions ; and the sentiments which prompt obedience are, though very indirectly and without the knowledge of those who feel them, referable to expe- riences of utility. This transfigured form of restraint, differing at first but little from the original form, admits of immense development. Accumulating traditions, growing in grandeur as they are repeated from generation to genera- tion, make more and more superhuman the early-recorded hero of the race. His powers of inflicting punishment and giving happiness become ever greater, more multi- tudinous and varied; so that the dread of divine dis- pleasure, and the desire to obtain divine approbation, acquire a certain largeness and generality. Still the con- ceptions remain anthropomorphic. The revengeful deity continues to be thought of in terms of human emotions, and continues to be represented as displaying these emo- tions in human ways. Moreover, the sentiments of right and duty, so far as they have become developed, refer mainly to divine commands and interdicts; and have little reference to the natures of the acts commanded or interdicted. In the intended offering up of Isaac, in the sacrifice of Jephthah's daughter, and in the hewing to EAELT MEANING OF EIGHT AND -WEONG. 25 pieces of Agag, as much as in the countless atrocities com- mitted from religious motives hj other . early historic races, we see that the morality and immorality of actions, as we understand them, are at first little recognized ; and that the feelings, chiefly of dread, which serve in place of them, are feelings felt toward the unseen beings supposed to .issue the commands and interdicts. Here it will be said that, as just admitted, these are not the moral sentiments properly so called. This is true. They are simply sentiments that precede and make possible those highest sentiments which do not refer either to personal benefits or evils to be expected from men, or to more remote rewards and punishments. Several com- ments are, however, called forth by this criticism. One is, that if we glance back at past beliefs and their correla- tive feelings, as shown in Dante's poem, in the mystery- plays of the middle ages, in St. Bartholomew massacres, in burnings for heresy, we get proof that in comparatively modern times right and wrong meant little else than sub- ordination or insubordination^-to a divine ruler primarily and under him to a human ruler. Another is, that down to our own day this conception largely prevails, and is even embodied in elaborate ethical works — instance the "Essays on the Principles of Morality," by Jonathan Dymond, which recognizes no ground of moral obligation, save the will of God as expressed in the current creed. And yet a further is, that while in sermons the torments of the damned and the joys of the blessed are set forth as the dominant deterrents and incentives, and while we have prepared for us printed instructions " how to make the best of both worlds," it cannot be denied that the feelings which impel and restrain men are still largely composed of elements like those operative on the savage — the dread, partly vague, partly specific, associated with 2 ' .... 26 MOEALS AND MOEAL SENTtMEIilTS. the idea of reprobation, human and divine, and the sense of satisfaction, partly vague, partly specific, associated with the idea of approbation, human and divine. But during the growth of that civilization which has been made possible by these ego-altruistic sentiments, there have been slowly evolving the altruistic sentiments. Development of these has gone on only as fast as society has advanced to a state in which the activities are mainly peaceful. The root of all the altruistic sentiments is sympathy ; and sympathy could become dominant only when the mode of life, instead of being one that habitually inflicted direct pain, became one which conferred direct and indirect benefits; the pains inflicted being mainly incidental and indirect. Adam. Smith made a large step toward this truth when he recognized sympathy as giving rise to these superior controlling emotions. His "Theory of Moral Sentiments," however, requires to be supple- mented in two ways. The natural process by which sympathy becomes developed into a more and more im- portant element of human nature, has to be explained ; and there has also to be explained the process by which sympathy produces the highest and most complex of the altruistic sentiments — that of justice. Respecting the first process, I can here do no more than say that sym- pathy may be proved, both inductively and deductively, to be the concomitant of gregariousness ; the two having all along increased by reciprocal aid. Multiplication has ever tended to force into an association, more or less close all creatures having kinds of food and supplies of food that permit association; and established psychological laws warrant the inference that some sympathy will inevitably result from habitual nianifestations of feelings in presence of one another, and that the gregariousness being augmented by the increase of sympathy, further DEVELOPMENT OF SYMPATHY. 27 facilitates the development of sympathy. But there are negative and positive checks upon this development — negative, because sympathy cannot advance faster than intelligence advances, since it presupposes the power of interpreting the natural language of the various feelings, and of mentally representing those feelings; positive, because the immediate needs of self-preservation are often at variance with its promptings, as, for example, during the predatory stages of human progress. For explanations of the second process, I must refer to " The Principles of Psychology " (§ 202, first edition, and § 215, second edition) and to " Social Statics," Part II., Chapter V.' Asking that in default of space these explanations may be taken for granted, let me here point out in what sense even sym- pathy, and the sentiments that result from it, are due to experiences of utility. If we suppose all thought of rewards or punishments, immediate or remote, to be left out of consideration, it is clear that any one who hesitates to inflict a pain because of the vivid representation of that pain which rises in his consciousness, is restrained, not by any sense of obligation or by any formulated doctrine of utility, but by the painful association established in him. And it is clear that if, after repeated experiences of the moral discomfort he has felt from witnessing the unhappi- ness indirectly caused by some of his acts, he is led to check himself when again tempted to those acts, the restraint is of like nature. Conversely with the pleasure-giving acts : repetitions of kind deeds, and experiences of the sympa- thetic gratifications that follow, tend continually to make stronger the association between such deeds and feelings of happiness. ' I may add that in " Social Statics," Cliapter X2X., 1 have indicated, in a general way, the causes of the development of sympathy and the restraints upon its development — confining the discussion, however, to the case of the human race, my suhject limiting me to that. The accompanying teleology I now disclaim. 28 M0EAL8 AND -MOEAL SENTBIEITTS. Eventually these experiences may be consciously gen- eralized, and there may result a deliberate pursuit of the sympathetic gratifications. There may also come to be distinctly recognized the truths that the remoter results are respectively detrimental and beneficial — that due regard for others is conducive to ultimate personal welfare and disregard of others to ultimate personal disaster ; and then there may become current such summations of expe- rience as " honesty is the best policy." But so far from regarding these intellectual recognitions of utility as preceding and causing the moral sentiment, I regard the moral sentiment as preceding such recognitions of utility, and making them possible. The pleasures and pains directly resulting in experience from sympathetic and unsympathetic actions, had first to be slowly associated with such actions, and the resulting incentives and de- terrents frequently obeyed, before there could arise the perceptions that sympathetic and unsympathetic ac- tions are remotely beneficial or detrimental to the actor ; and they had to be obeyed still longer and more gen- erally before there could arise the perceptions that they are socially beneficial or detrimental. When, however, the remote effects, personal and social, have gained general recognition, are expressed in current maxims, and lead to injunctions having the religious sanction, the sentiments that prompt sympathetic actions and cheek unsympathetic ones are immensely strengthened by their alliances. Approbation and reprobation, divine and human, come to be associated in thought with the sympathetic and unsympathetic actions respectively. The commands of the creed, the legal penalties, and the code of social conduct, unitedly enforce them; and every child as it grows up, daily has impressed on it, by the words and faces and voices of those around, FUETHEE EVOLUTION OF SYMPATHY. 29 the autliority of these highest principles of conduct. And now we may see why there arises a belief in the special sacredness of these highest principles, and a sense of the supreme authority of the altruistic sentiments answering to them. Many of the actions which, in early social states, received the religious sanction and gained public approbation, had the drawback that such sympathies as existed were outraged, and there was hence an imperfect satisfaction. Whereas these altruistic actions, while simi- larly having the religious sanction and gaining public approbation, bring a sympathetic consciousness of pleas- ure given or-of pain prevented ; and beyond this, bring a sympathetic consciousness of human welfare at large, as being furthered by making altruistic actions habitual. Both this special and this general sympathetic conscious- ness become stronger and wider in proportion as the power of mental representation increases, and the imagi- nation of consequences, immediate and remote, grows more vivid and comprehensive. Until at length these altruistic sentiments begin to call in question the au- thority of those ego-altruistic sentiments which once ruled unchallenged. They proihpt resistance to laws that do not fulfil the conception of justice, encourage men to brave the frowns of their fellows by pursuing a course at variance with customs that are perceived to be socially injurious, and even cause dissent from the current re- ligion ; either to the extent of disbelief in those alleged divine attributes and acts not appioved by this supreme moral arbiter, or to the extent of entire rejection of a creed which ascribes such attributes and acts. Much that is required to make this hypothesis com- plete must stand over until, at the close of the second volume of " The Principles of Psychology," I have space for a full' exposition. What I have said will make it 30 MOEALS AND MOEAL SENTIMENTS. sufficiently clear that two fundamental errors liave been made in the interpretation put upon it. Both Utility and Experience have been construed in senses much too nar- row. Utility, convenient a word as it is from its com- prehensiveness, has very inconvenient and misleading implications. It vividly suggests uses and means and proximate ends, but very faintly suggests the pleasures, positive or negative, which are the ultimate ends, and which, in the ethical meaning of the word, are alone con- sidered ; and, further, it implies conscious recognition of means and ends — implies the deliberate taking of some course to gain a perceived benefit. Experience, too, in its ordinary acceptation, connotes definite perceptions of causes and consequences, as standing in observed relations, and is not taken to include the connections formed in consciousness between states that recur together, when the relation between them, causal or other, is not per- ceived. It is in their widest senses, however, that I habitually use these words, as will be manifest to every one who reads the " Principles of Psychology ; " and it is in these widest senses that I have used them in the letter to Mr. Mill. I think I have shown above that, when they are so understood, the hypothesis briefly set forth in that letter is by no means so indefensible as is supposed. At any rate, I have shown — ^what seemed for the present needful to show — that Mr. Hutton's versions of my views must not be accepted as correct. Hebbeet Spenoee. 11. THE ORIGIN OF ANIMAL -WOBSEIP. [FROM THK FORTNIGHTLY REVIEW, MAY, 1870.] THE OKIGIN OF ANIMAL-WOESHIP. Mk. McLEiinsrAN's recent essays on the "Worship of Animals and Plants have done much to elucidate a very obscure subject. By pursuing in this ease, as before in another case, the truly scientific method of comparing the phenomena presented by existing uncivilized races with those which the early traditions of civilized races present, he has rendered both more comprehensible than they were before. It seems to me, however, that Mr. McLennan gives but an indefinite answer to the essential question — How did the worship, of animals and plants arise ? Indeed, in his concluding paper, he expressly leaves this problem without a solution ; saying that his " is not an hypothesis explanatory of the origin of Totemism, be it remembered, but an hypothesis explanatory of the animal and plant worship of the ancient nations." So that we have still to ask — Why have savage tribes so generally taken animals and plants and other things as their totems 1 "What can have induced this tribe to ascribe special sacredness to one creature, and that tribe to another ? And if to these ques- tions the general reply is, that each tribe considers itself to be descended from the object of its reverence, then there presses for answer the further question — How came so strange a notion into existence ? K this notion occurred 34r THE OEIGIN OF ANIMAL-WORSHIP. in one case only, we might set it down to some whim of thought or some illusive occurrence. But appearing as it does with multitudinous variations among so many un- civilized races in different parts of the world, and having left equally numerous traces in the superstitions of the. extinct civilized races, we cannot assume any special or exceptional cause. Moreover, the general cause, whatever it may be, must be such as does not negative an aboriginal intelligence essentially like our own. After studying the grotesque beliefs of savages, we are apt to suppose that their reason is not as our reason. But this supposition is inadmissible. Given the amount of knowledge which primitive men possess, and given the imperfect verbal symbols used by them in speech and thought, and the con- clusions they habituailly reach will be those that are rela- fmely the most rational. This must be our postulate; and, setting out with this postulate, we have to ask how primitive men came so generally, if not universally, to be- lieve themselves the progeny of animals or plants or inani- mate bodies. There is, I believe, a satisfactory answer. The proposition with which Mr. McLennan sets out, that totem-worship preceded the worship of anthropomor- phic gods, is one to which I can yield but a qualified as- sent. It is true in a sense, but not wholly true. If the words " gods " and " worship " carry with them their or- dinary definite meanings, the statement is true ; but if their meanings are widened so as to comprehend those earliest vague notions out of which the definite. ideas of gods and worship are evolved, I think it is not true. The rudimentary form of all religion is the propitiation of dead ancestors, who are supposed to be still existing, and to be capable of working good or evil to their descendants. As a preparation for dealing hereafter with the principles of ETTDIMENTAEY FOEM OF EELIGION. 35 sociology, I have, for some years past, directed much at- tention to the modes of thought current in the simpler human societies ; and evidence of many kinds, furnished by all varieties of uncivilized men, has forced on me a conclusion harmonizing with that lately expressed in this Beview by Prof. Huxley — ^namely, that the savage, con- ceiving a corpse to be deserted by the active personality who dwelt in it, conceives this active personality to be still existing, and that his feelings and ideas concerning it form the basis of his superstitions. Everywhere we find expressed or implied the belief that each person is double ; and that when he dies, his other self, whether remaining near at hand or gone far away, may return, and continues capable of injuring his enemies and aiding his friends.' 1 A critical reader may raise an olijeotioii. If animal-Tforship is to be ra- tionally interpreted, how can the interpretation set out by assuming a belief in the spirits of dead ancestors — a belief which just as much reqjiires explana- tion ? Doubtless there is here a wide gap in the argument. I hope eventually to fill it up. Here, out of many experiences which conspire to generate this belief, I can but briefly indicate the leading ones : 1. It is not impossible that his shadow, following him everywhere, and moving as he moves, may have some small share in giving to the savage a vague idea of his duality. It needs but to watch a child's interest in the movements of its shadow, and to remem- ber that at first a shadow cannot be interpreted as a negation of light, but is looked upon as an entity, to perceive that the savage may very possibly con- sider it as a specific sometliing which forms part of him. 2. A much more decided suggestion of the same kind is likely to result from the reflection of his face and figure in water : imitating him as it does in his form, colors, mo- tions, grimaces. When we remember that not unfrequently a savage objects to have his portrait taken, because he thinks whoever carries away a represen- tation of him carries away some part of his being, wUl see how probable it is that he thinks his double in the water is a reality in some way belonging to him. 3. Echoes must greatly tend to confirm the idea of duality otherwise arrived at. Incapable as he is of understanding their natural origin, the primitive man necessarily ascribes them to living beings — ^beings who mock him and elude his search, i. The suggestions resulting from these and other physical phenomena are, however, secondary in importance. The root of this belief in another self lies in the experience of di'cams. The distinction so easily made by us between our life in dreams and our real life, is one which the savage , recognizes in but a vague way ; and he cannot express even that distinction which he perceives. When he awakes, and to those who have seen 36 THE OEIGIN OF ANIMAL-WOESHIP. But how out of the desire to propitiate this second per- sonality of a deceased man (the words " ghost " or " spirit " are somewhat misleading, since the savage believes that the second personality reappears in a form equally tan- gible with the first) does there grow up the worship of liim lying quietly asleep, describes where he has been, and what ho has done, his rude language fails to state the diiferenoe between seeing and dreaming that he saw, doing and dreaming that he did. From this inadequacy of his language it not only results that he cannot truly represent this diiferenoe to others, but also that he cannot truly represent it to himself. Hence, in the absence of an alternative interpretation, his belief, and that of those to whom he tells his adventures, is that his other self has been away and came back when he awoke. And this belief, which we find among various existing sav- age tribes, we equally find in the traditions of the early civilized races. 5. The conception of another self capable of going away and returning, re- ceives what to the savage must seem conclusive verifications from the abnor- mal suspensions of consciousness, and derangements of consciousness, that occasionally occur in members of his tribe. One who has fainted, and cannot be immediately brought back to himself (note the significance of our own phrases "returning to himself," etc.) as a sleeper can, shows him a state in which the other self has been away for a time beyond recall. Still more is this prolonged absence of the other self shown him in cases of apoplexy, cata- lepsy, and other forms of suspended animation. Here for hours the other self persists in remaining away, and on returning refuses to say where he has been. Further verification is afforded by every epileptic subject, into whose body, during the absence of the other self, some enemy has entered ; for how else does it happen that the other self on returning denies all knowledge of what his body has been doing 1 And this supposition that the body has been "possessed" by some other being, is confirmed by the phenomena of som- nambulism and insanity. 6. What, then, is the interpretation inevitably put upon death ? The other self has habitually returned after sleep, which simu- lates death. It has returned, too, after fainting, which simulates death much more. It has even returned after the rigid state of catalepsy, which simulates death very greatly. Will it not return also after this still more prolonged quiescence and rigidity ? Clearly it is quite possible — quite probable even. The deadmau's other self is gone away for a long time, but it still exists some- where, far or near, and may at any moment come back to do all be said he would do. Hence the various burial-rites — the placing of weapons and valu- ables along with the body, the daily bringing of food to it, etc. I hope here- after to show that, with such knowledge of the facts as he has, this interpreta- tion is the most reasonable the savage can arrive at. Let me hero, however, by way of showing how clearly the facts bear out this view, give one illustra- tion out of many. " The ceremonies with which they [the Vcddahs] invoke them [the shades of the dead] are few as they are simple. The most common INFLUENCE OF NICKNAMES. 37 animals, plants, and inanimate objects? Very simply. Savages habitually distinguish individuals by names that are either directly suggestive of some personal trait or fact of personal history, or else express an observed community of character with some well-known object. Such a gene- sis of individual names, before surnames have arisen, is inevitable ; and how easily it arises we shall see on re- membering that it still goes on in its original form, even when no longer needful. I do not refer only to the sig- nificant fact that in some parts of England, as in the nail- mating districts, nicknames are universal, and surnames scarcely recognized; but I refer to the general usage among both children and adults. The rude man is apt to be known as " a bear ;" a. sly fellow, as an " old fox ; " a hypocrite, as " the crocodile." I^ames of plants, too, are used ; as when the red-haired boy is called " carrots " by his school-fellows. ISTor do we lack nicknames derived from inorganic objects and agents : instance that given by Mr. Carlyle to the elder Sterling — " Captain "Whirlwind." ISTow, in the earliest savage state, this metaphorical nam- Ls the following : An arrow is fixed npriglit in the ground, and tlio Veddah dances slowly round it, chanting this invocation, which is almost musical in its rhythm : " Mil miya, mi miy, mS, deya, Topang Koyichetti mittigan yandah 1 " " My departed one, my departed one, my God ! Where art thou wandering 2 " " This invocation appears to be used on all occasions when the intervention of the guardian spirits is required in sickness, preparatory to hunting, etc. Sometimes in the latter case, a portion of the flesh of the game is promised as a votive offering, in the event of the chase being successful ; and they believe that the spirits wiU appear to them in dreams and tell them where to hunt. Sometimes they cook food and place it in the dry bed of a river, or some other secluded spot, and then call on their deceased ancestors by name, ' Come aud paitake of this ! Give us maintenance as you did when living! Come, where- soever you may bo, on a tree, on a rook, in the forest, come ! ' And dance round the food, half chanting half shouting the invocation." — Bailey, Trans. Mh. Soc, London, N. S., ii., p. 301. 38 THE OEIGIN OF ANIMAL-WOESHIP. ing will in most, cases commence afresh in each generation — must do so, indeed, imtil surnames of some kind have been established. I say in most cases, because there will occur exceptions in the cases of men who have distin- guished themselves. If " the "Wolf," proving famous in fight, becomes a terror to neighboring tribes, and a domi- nant man in his own, his sons, proud of their parentage, will not let fall the fact that they descended from the "Wolf; nor will this fact be forgotten by the rest of the tribe who held " the Wolf " in awe, and see some reason to dread his sons. In proportion to the power and celeb- rity of the Wolf will this pride and this fear conspire to maintain among his grandchildren and great-grandchil- dren, as well as among those over whom they dominate, the remembrance of the fact that their ancestor was the Wolf. And if, as will occasionally happen, this dominant family becomes the root of a new tribe, the members of this tribe will become known to themselves and others as the Wolves. We need not rest satisfied with the inference that this inheritance of nicknames will take place : there is proof that it does take place. As nicknaming after animals, plants, and other objects, still goes on among ourselves, so among ourselves does there go on the descent of nicknames. An instance has come under my own notice on an estate in the West Highlands, belonging to some friends with whom I frequently have the pleasure of spending a few weeks in the autumn. " Take a young Croshek," has more than once been the reply of my host to the inquiry, who should go with me when I was setting out salmon- fishing. The elder Croshek I knew well; and supposed that this name, borne by him and by all belonging to him, was the family surname. Some years passed before I learned that the real surname was Cameron ; that the OEIGUSr OF TEIBAL NAMES. 39 fafher was called Croshek, after the name of his cottage, to distinguish him from other Camerons employed about the premises ; and that his children had come to be simi- larly distinguished. Though here, as very generally in Scotland, the niclcname was derived from the place of residence, yet had it been derived from an animal, the process would have been the same — ^inheritance of it would have occurred just as naturally. l^Tot even for this small link in the argument, however, need we depend on infer- ence : there is fact to bear us out. Mr. Bates, in his " Nat- uralist on the Kiver Amazon " (2d ed., p. 376), describ- ing three half-castes who accompanied him on a hunting trip, says : " Two of them were brothers — namely, Joao (John) and Zephyrino Jabuti ; Jabuti, or tortoise, being a nickname which their father had earned for his slow gait, and which, as is usual in this country, had descended as the surname of the family." Let me add the statement made by Mr. Wallace respecting this same region, that " one of the tribes on the river Isdnna is called ' Jurupari ' (Devils). Another is called ' Ducks ; ' a third, ' Stars ; ' a fourth, ' Mandiocca.' " Putting these two statements together, can there be any doubt about the genesis of these tribal names ? Let the tortoise become sufficiently distin- guished (not necessarily by superiority — great inferiority may occasionally suffice) and the tradition of descent from him, preserved by his descendants themselves if he was superior, and by their contemptuous neighbors if he was inferior, may become a tribal name.' 1 Since the foregoing pages were ■written, my attention has been drawn by Sir John Lubbock to a passage in the appendix to the second edition of " Pre- historic Times," in which he has indicated this derivation of tribal names. He says : "In endeavoring to account for the worship of animals, we must remem- ber that names are very frequently taken from them. The children and fol- lowers of a man called the Bear or the Lion would make that a tribal name. Hence the animal itself would be fli'st respected, at last worshipped," Of the genesis of this worship, however. Sir John Lubbock does not give any specific 40 THE OEIGIN OF ANISIAL-WOESHIP. " But this," it will be said, " does not amount to an explanation of animal-worsliip." True : a third factor remains to be specified. Given a belief in the still-exist- ing other self of the deceased ancestor, who must be pro- pitiated; given this survival of his metaphorical name among his grandchildren, great-grandchildren, etc. ; and the further requisite is that the distinction between metar phor and reality shall be forgotten. Let the tradition of the ancestor fail to keep clearly in view the fact that he was a man called the "Wolf — let him be habitually spoken of as the Wolf, just as when alive ; and the natural mis- take of taking the name literally will bring with it, firstly, a belief in descent from the actual wolf, and, secondly, a treatment of the wolf in a manner likely to propitiate him — a manner appropriate to one who may be the other self of the dead ancestor, or one of the kindred, and there- fore a friend. That a misunderstanding of this kind will naturally grow up, becomes obvious when we bear in mind the great indefiniteness of primitive language. As Prof. Max Miil- ler says, respecting certain misinterpretations of an oppo- site kind : " These metaphors .... would become mere names handed down in the conversation of a family, un- derstood perhaps by the grandfather, famOiar to the father, but strange to the son, and misunderstood by the grand- son." We have ample reason, then, for thinking that such misinterpretations are likely to occur. Nay, we may go further. We are justified in saying that they are cer- tain to occur. For undeveloped languages contain no words capable of indicating the distinction to be kept in view. In the tongues of existing inferior races, only con- explanatioii. Apparently he inclines to tlie telief, tacitly adopted also by Mr. McLennan, that animal-worship is derived from an original Fetichism, of which it is a more developed form. As wiU shortly he seen, I take a differ- ent view of its origin. INDEFINITENESS OF PEIMITIVE LANGUAGE. 41 Crete objects and acts are expressible. The Australians have a name for each kind of tree, but no name for tree irrespective of kind. And though some witnesses allege that their vocabulary is not absolutely destitute of generic names, its extreme poverty in such is unquestionable. Similarly with the Tasmanians. Dr. Milligan says thej'- " had acquired very limited powers of abstraction or gen- eralization. They possessed no words representing ab- stract ideas ; for each variety of gum-tree and wattle-tree, etc., etc., they had a name, but they had no equivalent for the expression, ' a tree ; ' neither could they express ab- stract qualities, such as hard, soft, warm, cold, long, short, roimd, etc. ; for ' hard,' they would say ' like a stone,' for ' tall,' they would say ' long legs,' etc., and for ' round,' they said ' Hke a ball,' ' like the moon,' and so on, usually suiting the action to the word, and confirming, by some sign, the meaning to be understood." • !N"ow, even mak- ing allowance for over-statement here (which seems need- ful, since the word " long," said to be inexpressible in the abstract, subsequently occurs as qualifying a concrete in the expression, "long legs"), it is suflSciently manifest that so imperfect a language must fail to convey the idea of a name, as something separate from a thing ; and that still less can it be capable of indicating the act of naming. Familiar use of such partially abstract wordS as are appli- cable to all objects of a class, is needful before there can be reached the conception of a name — a word symbolizing the symbolic character of other words ; and the conception of a name, vdth its answering abstract term, must be long current before the verb to name can arise. Hence, among tribes with speech so rude, it will be impossible to trans- mit the tradition of an ancestor named the Wolf, as dis- tinguished from the actual wolf. The children and grand- ' Proo. Eoyal Soc. Tasmania, iii., p. 280, 42 THE OEIGIN OF ANIMAL-W0E8HIP. children who saw him will not be led into error ; but in later generations, descent from the "Wolf will inevitably come to mean descent from the animal known by that name. And the ideas and sentiments which, as above shown, naturally grow up around the belief that the dead parents and grandparents are still alive, and ready, if pro- pitiated, to befriend their descendants, will be extended to the wolf species. Before passing to other developments of this general view, let me point out how not simply animal-worship is thus accounted for, but also the conception, so variously illustrated in ancient legends, that animals are capable of displaying human powers of speech and thought and action. Mythologies are full of stories of beasts and birds and fishes that have played intelligent parts in human affairs — creatures that have befriended particular persons by giving them information, by guiding them, by yielding them help ; or else that have deceived them, verbally or otherwise. Evidently all these traditions, as well as those about abductions of women by animals and fostering of children by them, fall naturally into their places as re- sults of the habitual misinterpretation I have described. The probability of the hypothesis will appear still greater when we observe how readily it applies to the worship of other orders of objects. Belief in actual de- scent from an animal, strange as we may think it, is one by no means incongruous with the unanalyzed experiences of the savage ; for there come under his notice many metamorphoses, vegetal and animal, which are apparently of like character. But how could he possibly arrive at so grotesq^ue a conception as that the progenitor of his tribe was the sun, or the moon, or a particular star ? No ob- servation of surrounding phenomena affords the slightest CONFUSION OF METAPHOE WITH FACT. 43 suggestion of any sucli possibility. But by the inheritance of nicknames that are eventually mistaken for the names of the objects from which they were derived, the belief readily arises — is sure to arise. That the names of heav- enly bodies will furnish metaphorical names to the un- civilized, is manifest. Do we not ourselves call a distin- guished singer or actor a star ? And have we not in poems numerous comparisons of men and women to the sun and moon ; as in " Love's Labour's Lost," where the princess is called " a gracious moon," and as in " Henry VIII.," where we read — " Those suns of glory, those two lights of men ? " Clearly, primitive men will be not unlikely thus to speak of the chief hero of a successful battle. When we remember how the arrival of a triumphant war- rior must affect the feelings of his tribe, dissipating clouds of anxiety and irradiating all faces with joy, we shall see that the comparison of him to the sun is exti^emely natural ; and in early speech this comparison can be made only by calling him the sun. As before, then, it will happen that, through a confounding of the metaphorical name with the actual name, his progeny, after a few generations, will be regarded by themselves and others as descendants of the sun. And, as a consequence, partly of actual inheritance of the ancestral character, and partly of maintenance of the traditions respecting the ancestor's achievements, it will also naturally happen that the solar race will be con- sidered a superior race, as we find it habitually is. The origin of other totems, equally strange if not even stranger, is similarly accounted for, though otherwise un- accountable. One of the New-Zealand chiefs claimed as his progenitor the neighboring great mountain, Tongariro. This seemingly-whimsical belief becomes intelligible when we observe how easily it may have arisen from a nick- name. Do we not ourselves sometimes speak figuratively 44 THE OEIGIN OF AinMAL-WOESHIP. of a tall, fat man as a mountain of flesli ? And, among a people prone to speak in still more concrete terms, would it not happen tliat a chief, remarkable for his great bulk, would be nicknamed after the highest mountain within sight, because he towered above other men as this did above surrounding hills?- Such an occurrence is not sim- ply possible, but probable. And, if so, the confusion of metaphor with fact would originate this surprising gene- alogy. A notion perhaps yet more grotesque, thus re- ceives a satisfactory interpretation. "What could have put it into the imagination of any one that he was descended from the dawn ? Given the extremest credulity, joined with the wildest fancy, it would still seem requisite that the ancestor should be conceived as an entity; and the dawn is entirely without that definiteness and compara- tive constancy which enter into the conception of an entity. But when we remember that " the Dawn " is a natural complimentary name for a beautiful girl opening into womanhood, the genesis of the idea becomes, on the above hypothesis, quite obvious. Another indirect verification is that we thus get a clear conception of Fetichisra in general. Under the feti- chistic mode of thought, surrounding objects and agents are regarded as having powers more or less definitely per- sonal in their natures. And the current interpretation is, that human intelligence, in its early stages, is obliged to conceive of their powers under this form. I have myself hitherto accepted this interpretation ; though always with a sense of dissatisfaction. This dissatisfaction was, I think, well grounded. The theory is scarcely a theory properly so called; but rather, a restatement in other words. Uncivilized men do habitually form anthropo- morphic conceptions of surroimding things ; and this ob- OEIGIN OF FETIOHISM. 45 served general fact is transformed into the theory that at first they must so conceive them — a theory for which the psychological justification attempted, seems to me inade- quate. From our present stand-point, it becomes mani- fest that Fetichism is not primary but secondary. "What has been said above almost of itself shovrs this. Let us, however, follow out the steps of its genesis. Kespecting the Tasmanians, Dr. Milligan says : " The names of men and women were taken from natural objects and occur- rences around, as, for instance, a kangaroo, a gum-tree, snow, hail, thunder, the wind, flowers in blossom, etc." Surrounding objects, then, giving origin to names of per- sons, and being, in the way shown, eventually mistaken for the actaal progenitors of those who descend from per- sons nicknamed after them, it results that these surround- ing objects come to be regarded as in some manner pos- sessed of personalities like the human. He whose family tradition is that his ancestor was " the Grab," will conceive the crab as having a disguised inner power like his own ; and alleged descent from "the palm-tree" will entail be- lief in some kind of consciousness dwelling in the palm- tree. Hence, in proportion as the animals, plants, and inanimate objects or agents that originate names of per- sons, become numerous (which they will do in proportion as a tribe becomes large and the number of persons to bo distinguished from one another increases), multitudinous things around will acquire imaginary personalities. And so it will happen that, as Mr. McLennan says of the Fee- jeeans : " Vegetables and stones, nay, even tools and weap- ons, pots and canoes, have souls that are immortal, and that, like the souls of men, pass on at last to Mbulu, the abode of departed spirits." Setting out, then, with a be- lief in the still-living other self of the dead ancestor, the alleged general cause of misapprehension affords us an 46 THE OEIGIN OF ANIMAIi-WOESHIP. intelligible origin of the fetiehistic conception ; and we are enabled to see how it tends to become a general, if not a universal, conception. Other apparently inexplicable phenomena are at the same time divested of their strangeness. I refer to the beliefs in, and worship of, compound monsters — ^impossible hybrid animals, and forms that are half human, half brutal. The theory of a primordial Fetichism, supposing it other- wise adequate, yields no feasible solution of these. Grant the alleged original tendency to think of all natural agen- cies as in some way personal. Grant, too, that hence may arise a worship of animals, plants, and even inanimate bodies. Still the obvious implication is that the worship so derived will be limited to things that are, or have been, perceived. "Why should this mode of thought lead the savage to imagine a combination of bird and mammal ; and not only to imagine it, but worship it as a god ? If even we admit that some illusion may have suggested the belief in a creature half man, half fish, we cannot thus explain the prevalence among Eastern races of idols repre- senting bird-headed men, men having their legs replaced by the legs of a coct, and men with the heads of elephants. Carrying with us the inferences above drawn, how- ever, it is a manifest corollary that ideas and practices of these kinds will arise. "When tradition preserves both lines of ancestry — when a chief, nicknamed the "Wolf, car- ries away from an adjacent tribe a wife who is remem- bered either under the animal name of her tribe, or as a woman ; it will happen that if a son distinguishes him- self, the remembrance of him among his descendants will be that he was born of a wolf and some other animal, or of a wolf and a woman. Misinterpretation, arising in the way described from defects of language, will entail belief MEAOTNGS OF ANCIENT MYTHS. 47 in a creature uijjtmg the attributes of the two ; and if the tribe grows into a society, representations of such a crea- ture will become objects of worship. One of the cases cited by Mr. McLennan may here be repeated in illustra- tion. " The story of the origin of the Dikokamenni Kir- gheez," they say, " from a red greyhound and a certain queen with her forty handmaidens, is of ancient date." ISTow, if " the red greyhound " was the nickname of a man extremely swift of foot (celebrated runners have been similarly nicknamed among ourselves), a story of this kind would naturally arise ; and if the metaphorical name was mistaken for the actual name, there might result, as the idol of the race, a compound form appropriate to the story. We need not be surprised, then, at finding among the Egyptians the goddess Pasht represented as a woman with a lion's head, and the god Month as a man with the head of a hawk. The Babylonian gods — one having the form of a man with an eagle's tail, and another uniting a human bust to a fish's body — no longer appear such un- accountable conceptions. We get feasible explanations, too, of sculptures representing sphinxes, winged human- headed bulls, etc. ; as well as of the stories about centaurs, satyrs, and the rest. Ancient myths in general thus acquire meanings con- siderably different from those ascribed to them by com- parative mythologists. Though these last may be in part correct, yet if the foregoing argument is valid, they can scarcely be correct in their main outlines. Indeed, if we read the iacts the other way upward, regarding as sec- ondary or additional the elements that are said to be pri- mary, while we regard as primary certain elements which are considered as accretions of later times, we shall, I think, be nearer the truth. 48 THE OEIGIN OF ANIMAL-WOESHIP. Tlie current theory of the myth is th|t it has grown out of the habit of symbolizing natural agents and pro- cesses, in terms of human personalities and actions. Now. it may in the first place be remarked that, though sym- bolization of this kind is common enough among civilized races, it is not common among races that are the most uncivilized. By existing savages, surrounding objects, motions, and changes, are habitually used to convey ideas respecting human transactions. It is by no means so much the habit to express by the doings of men the course of natural phenomena. It needs but to read the speech of an Indian chief to see that just as primitive men name one another metaphorically after surrounding objects, so do they metaphorically describe one another's doings as though they were the doings of natural objects. But as- suming a contrary habit of thought to be the dominant one, ancient myths are explained as results of the primi- tive tendency to symbolize inanimate things and their changes, by human beings and their doings. A kindred difiBculty must be added. The change of verbal meaning from which the myth is said to arise, is a change opposite in kind to that which prevails in the earlier stages of linguistic development. It implies a derivation of the concrete from the abstract ; whereas at first abstracts are derived only from concretes : the con- creting of abstracts being a subsequent process. In the words of Prof. Max MiiUer, there are " dialects spoken at the present day which have no abstract nouns, and the more we go back in the history of languages, the smaller we find the number of these useful expressions " (" Chips," vol. ii., p. 54); or, as he says more recently: '"Aneieiit words and ancient thoughts, for both go together, have not yet arrived at that stage of abstraction in which, for instance, active powers, whether natural or supernatural. COHTEADIOXIONS OF THE CUEEENT HYPOTHESIS. 49 can be represented in any but a personal and more or less human form." {Fraser's Magazine, April, 1870.) Here the concrete is represented as original, and the abstract as derivative. Immediately afterward, however, Prof. Max Miiller, having given as examples of abstract nouns, " day and night, spring and winter, dawn and twilight, storm and thunder," goes on to argue that, " as long as people thought in language, it was simply impossible to speak of morning or evening, of spring and winter, with- out giving to these conceptions something of an indi- vidual, active, sexual, and at last personal character." (" Chips," etc., vol. ii., p. 55.) Here the concrete is de- rived from the abstract — the personal conception is repre- sented as coming after the impersonal conception ; and through such transformation of the impersonal into the personal, Prof. Max Miiller considers ancient myths to have arisen. How are these propositions reconcilable? One of two things must be said : If originally there were none of these abstract nouns, then the earliest statements respecting the daily course of liTature were made in con- crete terms — the personal elements of the myth were the primitive elements, and the impersonal expressions which are their equivalents came later. If this is not admitted, then it must be held that, until after there arose these ab- stract nouns, there were no current statements at all respecting these most conspicuous objects and changes which the heavens and the earth present ; and that the abstract nouns having been somehow formed, and rightly formed, and used without personal meanings, aftOTward became personaliized — a process the reverse of that which characterizes early linguistic progress. !N"o such contradictions occur if we interpret myths after the manner that has been indicated. 'E&j, besides escaping contradictions, we meet with unexpected solu- 3 50 THE OEIGUSr OF AMIMAX-WOESHIP. tions. The moment we try it, the key xmloeks for us with ease what seems a quite inexplicable fact, which the cur- rent hypothesis takes as one of its postulates. Speaking of such words as sky and earth, dew and rain, rivers and mountains, as well as of the abstract nouns above named. Prof. Max Miiller says : " Now, in ancient languages every one of these words had necessarily a termination expres- sive of gender, and this naturally produced in the mind the corresponding idea of sex, so that these names received not only an individual but a sexual character. There was no substantive which was not either masculine or feminine ; neuters being of later growth, and distinguish- able chiefly in the nominative." (" Chips," etc., vol. ii., p. 55.) And this alleged necessity for a masculine or feminine implication is assigned as a part of the reason why these abstract nouns and collective nouns became personalized. But should not a true theory of these first steps in the evolution of thought and language show us how it happened that men acquired the seemingly-strange habit of so framing their words for sky, earth, dew, rain, etc., as to make them indicative of sex ? Or, at any rate, must it not be admitted that an interpretation which, in- stead of assuming this habit to be " necessary," shows us how it results, thereby acquires an additional claim to acceptance? The interpretation I have indicated does this. If men and women are habitually nicknamed, and if defects of language lead their descendants to regard themselves as descendants of the things from which the names were taken, then masculine or feminine genders will be ascribed to these things according as the ancestors named after them were men or women. If a beautiful maiden known metaphorically as " the Dawn," afterward becomes the mother of some distinguished chief called " the North "Wind," it will result that when, in course of HXJTNTAN PAEENTAQE AND NON-HUMCAIT ATTEIBUTES. 51 time, the two have been mistaken for the actual dawn and the actual north wind, these will, by implication, be re- spectively considered as male and female. Looking, now, at the ancient myths in general, their seemingly most inexplicable trait is the habitual combi- nation of alleged human ancestry and adventures, with the possession of personalities otherwise figuring in the heavens and on the earth, with totally non-human attri- butes. This enormous incongruity, not the exception but the rule, the current theory fails to explain. Suppose it to be granted that the great terrestrial and celestial ob- jects and agents naturally become personalized ; it does not follow that each of them shall have a specific human biography. To say of some star that he was the son of this king or that hero, was born in a particular place, and when grown up carried off the wife of a neighboring chief, is a gratuitous multiplication of incongruities already sufficiently great ; and is not accounted for by the alleged necessary personalization of abstract and collective nouns. As looked at from our present stand-point, however, such traditions become quite natural — nay, it is clear that they will necessarily arise. When a nickname has become a tribal name, it thereby ceases to be individually distinc- tive ; and, as already said, the process of nicknaming incYitably continues. It commences afresh with each child ; and the nickname of each child is both an individ- ual name and a potential tribal name, which may become an actual tribal name if the individual is sufficiently cele- brated. Usually, then, there is a double system of distin- guishing the individual ; under one of which, he is known by his ancestral name, and under the other of which he is known by a name suggestive of something peculiar to himself : just as we have seen happens among the Scotch clans. Consider, now, what will result when language 52 THE OEIGIN OF ANIMAL WOESHIP. has reached a stage of development such that it can con- vey the notion of naming, and is able, therefore, to pre- serve traditions of human ancestry : the preservation of " such traditions being furthered by those corruptions of ■ tribal names which render them no longer suggestive of the things they were derived from. It will result that the individual will be known both as the son of such and such a man by a mother whose name was so-and-so, and also as the Crab, or the Bear, or the Whirlwind— suppos- ing one of these to be his nickname. Such joint use of nicknames and proper names occurs in every school, l^ow, clearly, in advancing from the early state in which ances- tors become identiiied with the objects they are nick- named after, to the state in which there are proper names that have lost their metaphorical meanings, there must be passed through a state in which proper names, partially settled only, may or may not be preserved, and in which the new nicknames are still liable to be mistaken for act- ual names. Under such conditions there will arise (es- pecially in the case of a distinguished man) this seeming- ly-impossible combination of human parentage with the possession of the non-human, or superhuman, attributes of the thing which gave the nickname. Another anomaly simultaneously disappears. The warrior may have, and often will have, a variety of complimentary nicknames — " the powerful one," " the destroyer," etc. Supposing his leading nickname has been the Sun, then when he comes to be identified by tradition with the sun, it will happen that the sun will acquire his alternative descrip- tive titles — the swift one, the lion, the wolf — titles not obviously appropriate to the sun, but quite appropriate to the warrior. Then there comes, too, an explanation of the remaining trait of such myths. When this identifica- tion of conspicuous persons, male and female, with con- ANTHEOPOMOEPHIO INTEEPEETATIONS. 53 spicuous natural agents, has become settled, there will in due course arise interpretations of the actions of these agents in anthropomorphic terms. Suppose, for instance, that Endymion and Selene, metaphorically named, the one after the setting sun, the other after the moon, have had their human individualities merged in those of the sun and moon, through misinterpretation of metaphors ; what will happen ? The legend of their loves having to be reconciled with their celestial appearances and motions, these will be spoken of as results of feeling and will ; so that when the sun is going down in the west, while the moon in mid-heaven is following him, the fact will be ex- pressed by saying : " Selene loves and watches Endym- ion." Thus we obtain a consistent explanation of the myth without distorting it ; and without assuming that it contains gratuitous fictions. We are enabled to accept the biographical part of it, if -not as literal fact, still as having had fact for its root. We are helped to see how, by an inevitable misinterpretation, there grew out of a more or less true tradition, this strange identification of its personages, with objects and powers totally non-human in their aspects. And then we are shown how, from tlje attempt to reconcile in thought these contradictory ele- ments of the myth, there arose the habit of ascribing the actions of these non-human things to human motives. One further verification may be drawn from facts which are obstacles to the converse hypothesis. These objects and powers, celestial and terrestrial, which force themselves most on men's attention, have some of them several proper names, identified with those of different individuals, born at different places, and having different sets of adventures. Thus we have the sun variously known as Apollo, Endymion, Helios, Tithonos, etc. — ^per- sonages having irreconcilable genealogies. Such anoma- 54: THE OEIGIN OF ANIMAL-WOESHIP. lies Prof. Max Miiller apparently ascribes to the untrust- worthiness of traditions, wliicli are " careless about con- tradictions, or ready to solve them sometimes by the most atrocious expedients." (" Chips," etc., vol. ii., p. 84.) But if the evolution of the myth has been that above indicated, there exist no anomalies to be got rid of: these diverse genealogies become parts of the evidence. For we have abundant proof that the same objects furnish metaphori- cal names of men in different tribes. There are Duck tribes in Australia, in South America, in IsTorth America. The eagle is still a totem among the North Americans, as Mr. McLennan shows reason to conclude that it was among the Egyptians, among the Jpws, and among the Romans. Obviously, for reasons that have been assigned, it naturally happened in the early stages of the ancient races, that complimentary comparisons of their heroes to the sun were frequently. made. "WTiat resulted? The sun having furnished names for sundry chiefs and early founders of tribes, and local traditions having severally identified them with the sun, these tribes, when they grew, spread, conquered, or came otherwise into partial" union, originated a combined mythology, which necessarily con- tained conflicting stories about the sun-god, as about its other leading personages. If the Ilforth-American tribes, among several of which there are traditions of a sun-god, had developed a combined civilization, there would simi- larly have arisen among them a mythology which ascribed to the sun several different proper names and genealogies. Let me briefly set down the leading characters of this hypothesis which give it probability. True interpretations of all the natural processes, or- ganic and inorganic, that have gone on in past times, habitually trace them to causes still in action. It is thus EEASONS FOE ADOPTING THIS VIEW. 55 in Geology ; it is thus in Biology ; it is thus in Philology. Here we find this characteristic repeated. Nicknaming, the inheritance of nicknames, and, to some extent, the misinterpretation of nicknames, go among us still ; and were surnames absent, language imperfect, and knowledge as rudimentary as of old, it is tolerably manifest that re- sults would arise like those we have contemplated. A further characteristic of a true cause is that it ac- counts not only for the particular group. of phenomena to be interpreted, but also for other groups. The cause here alleged does this. It equally well explains the worship of animals, of plants, of mountains, of winds, of celestial bodies, and even of appearances too vague to be consid- ered entities. It gives us an intelligible genesis of feti- chistie conceptions in general. It furnishes us with a reason for the practice, otherwise so unaccountable, of moulding the words applied to inanimate objects in such ways as to imply masculine and feminine genders. It shows us how there naturally arose the worship of com- pound animals, and of monsters half man half brute. And it shows us why the worship of purely anthropomorphic deities came later, when language had so far developed that it could preserve in tradition the distinction between proper names and nicknames. A further verification of this view is, that it conforms to the general law of evolution : showing us how, out of one simple, vague, aboriginal form of belief, there have arisen, by continuous differentiations, the many hetero- geneous forms of belief which have existed and do exist. The desire to propitiate the other self of the dead ances- tor, displayed among savage tribes, dominantly manifested by the early historic races, by the Peruvians and Mexi- cans, by the Chinese at the present time, and to a consid- erable degree by ourselves (for what else is the wish to do 56 THE OEiam of animal-woeship. that which a lately-deceased parent was known to have desired ?), has been the universal first form of religious be- lief ; and from it have grown up the many divergent be- liefs that have been referred to. Let me add, as a further reason for adopting this view, that it immensely diminishes the apparently-great con- trast between early modes of thought and our own mode of thought. Doubtless the aboriginal man differs con- siderably from us_, both in intellect and feeling. But such an interpretatioa of the facts as helps us to bridge over the gap, derives additional likelihood from doing this. The hypothesis I have sketched out enables us to see that primitive ideas are not so gratuitously absurd as we sup- pose, and also enables us to rehabilitate the ancient myth with far less distortion than at first sight appears possible. These views I hope to develop in the first part of " The Principles of Sociology." The large mass of evi- dence which I shall be able to give in support of the hypoth- esis, joined with the solutions it will be shown to yield of many minor problems which I have passed over, will, I think, then give to it a still greater probability than it seems now to have. III. THE CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. PEEFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. The first edition of this Essay is not yet out of print. But a proposal to translate it into Frencli having been made by Professor Eethore, I have decided- to prepare a new edition free from the im- perfections which criticism and further thought have disclosed, rather than allow these imperfections to be reproduced. The occasion has almost tempted me into some amplification. Further arguments against the classi- fication of M. Comte, and further arguments in sup- port of the classification here set forth, have pleaded for utterance. But reconsideration has convinced me that it is both needless and useless to say more — ^needless because those who are not committed will think the case sufficiently strong as it stands, and useless because to those who are committed additional reasons will seem as inadequate as the original ones. This last conclusion is thrust on me by seeing how little M. Littre, the leading expositor of M. Comte, is influenced, by fundamental objections the force of which he admits. After quoting one of these, he 60 PEEFACE. says, with a candour equally rare and admirable, that he has vainly searched M. Comte's works and his own mind for an answer. Nevertheless, he adds — ^ "j'ai reussi, je crois, a ecarter I'attaque de M. Her- bert Spencer, et a sauver le fond par des sacrifices indispensables mais accessoires." The sacrifices are these. He abandons M. Comte's division of In- organic Science into Celestial Physics and Ter- restrial Physics — a division which, in M. Comte's scheme, takes precedence of all the rest ; and he admits that neither logically nor historically does Astronomy come before Physics, as M. Comte alleges. After making these sacrifices, which most will think too lightly described as ^' sacrifices indispensables mais accessoires," M. Littre proceeds to rehabilitate the Comt^an classification in a way which he con- siders satisfactory, but which I do not understand. In short, the proof of these incongruities affects his faith in the Positivist theory of the sciences, no more than the faith of a Christian is affected by proof that the Gospels contradict one another. Here in England I have seen no attempt to meet the criticisms with which M. Littre thus deals. There has been no reply to the allegation, based on examples, that the several sciences do not develop in the order of their decreasing generality ; nor to the- allegation, based on M. Comte's own admissions, that within each science the progress is not, as he says it is, from the genjeral to the special; nor to PREFACE. 61 the allegation that the seeming historical precedence of Astronomy over Physics in M. Comte's pages, is based on a verbal ambiguity — a mere sleight of words ; nor to the allegation, abundantly illustrated, that a progression in an order the reverse of that asserted by M. Comte may be as -well substantiated ; nor to various minor allegations equally irreooncile- able with his scheme. I have met with nothing more than iteration of the statement that the sciences do conform, logically and historically, to the order in which M. Comte places them ; regardless of the as- signed evidence that they do not. Under these circumstances it is unnecessary for mc to say more ; and I think I am warranted in con- tinuing to hold that the Comtean classification of the sciences is demonstrably untenable. While, however, I have not entered further into the controversy, as I thought of doing, I have added at the close an already-published discussion, no longer easily accessible, which indirectly enforces the general argument. loNiioif, 23ed Ateil, 1869, PREFACE TO THE THIED EDITION. In the preface to the second edition, I have de- scribed myself as resisting the temptation to amplify, which the occasion raised. Keasons have since arisen for yielding to the desire which I then felt to add justifications of the scheme set forth. The immediate cause for this change of resolve, has been the publication of several objections by Prof. Bain in his Logic Permanently embodied, as these objections are, in a work intended for the use of students, they demand more attention than such as have been made in the course of ordinary criticism; since, if they remain unanswered, their prejudicial eflfects will be more continuous. "While to dispose of these I seize the opportunity afforded by a break in my ordinary work, I have thought it well at the same time to strengthen my own argument, by a re-statement from a changed point of view. Feb., 1871. THE CLASSIFICATION OE THE SCIENCES. In an essay on "The Genesis of Science," originally published in 1854*1 endeavoured to show that the Sciences cannot be rationally . arranged in serial order. Proof was giyeh that neither the succession in which the Sciences are placed by M. Comte (to a criticism of whose scheme the essay was in part devoted), nor any other succession in which the Sciences can be placed, represents either their logical dependence or their his- torical dependence. To the question — How may their relations be rightly expressed ? I did not then attempt any answer. This question I propose now to con- sider. A true classification includes in each class, those objects which have more characteristics in common with one another, than any of them have in common with any objects excluded from tlie class. Further, the characteristics possessed iu common by the colli- gated' objects, and not possessed by other objects, are more radical than any cliaracteristics possessed in common with other objects — involve more numerous * Contained in the " Illustrations of TTniversal Progress." 64: CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. dependent characteristics. These are two sides of the same definition. For things possessing the greatest number of attributes in common, are things that pos- sess in common those essential attributes on which the rest depend; and, conversely, the possession in com- mon of the essential attributes, implies the possession in common of the greatest number of attributes. Hence, either test may be used as convenience dictates. If, then, the Sciences admit of classification at all, it must be by grouping together the like and separating the unlike, as thus defined. Let us proceed to do this. The broadest natural division among the Sciences, is the division between those which deal with the ab- stract relations under which phenomena are presented to us, and those which deal with the phenomena them- selves. Eelations of whatever orders, are nearer akin to one another than they are to any objects. Objects of whatever orders, are nearer akin to one another than they are to any relations. Whether, as some hold. Space and Time are forms of Thought; or whether, as I hold myself, they are forms of Things, that have become forms of Thought through organ- ized and inherited experience of Things ; it is equally true that Space and Time are contrasted absolutely with the existences disclosed to us in Space and Time and that the Sciences which deal exclusively with Space and Time, are separated by the profoundest of all distinctions from the Sciences which deal with the ALL PHENOMENA COMPOSITE. 65 existences that Space and Time contain. " Space is the abstract of all relations of co-existence. Time is the abstract of all relations of sequence. And dealing as they do entirely with relations of co-existence and sequence, in their general or special forms, Logic and Mathematics form a class of the Sciences more widely unlike the rest, than any of the rest can be from one another. The Sciences which deal with existences themselves, instead of the blank forms in which existences are pre- sented to us, admit of a sub-division less profound than the division above made, but more profound than any of the divisions among the Sciences individually con- sidered. They fall into two classes, having quite dif- ferent aspects, aims, and methods. Every phenomenon is more or less composite — is a manifestation of force under several distinct modes. Hence result two ob- jects of inquiry. We may study the component modes of force separately ; or we may study them in their relations, as co-operative factors in this composite phe- nomenon. On the one hand, neglecting all the inci- dents of particular cases, we may aim to educe tlie laws of each mode of force, when it is uninterfered with. On the other hand, the incidents of the parti- cular case being given, we may seek to interpret the entire phenomenon, as a product of the several forces simultaneously in action. The truths reached through the first kind of inquiry, though concrete inasmuch as they have actual existences for their subject-matters, 66 CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. are abstract inasmuch as they refer to the modes of existence apart from one another; while the truths reached by the second kind of inquiry are properly concrete, inasmuch as they formulate the facts in their combined order, as they occur in Nature. The Sciences, then, in their main divisions, stand thus : — SCIENCE is i that whicli treats of tho fonns in ) Absteact / Logic and \ which jihenomena are known to us ) Science \ Mathematics. / thnt which treats of tho phenomena themselves < . ., . ) ABSTnACT- /Mechanics, \ in their I Conokete ( Physics, \ elements j g^^^^^ \Chemis[ry,ctc. / (Astronomy, v Geology,Biology,\ Psychology, J Sociology, etc. / It is needful to define the words abstract and con- crete as thus used'; since they are sometimes used Avith other meanings. M. Comte divides Science into abstract and concrete; but the divisions which he distinguishes by these names are quite unlike those above made. Instead of regarding some Sciences as wholly abstract, and others as wholly concrete, he regards each Science as having an abstract part, and a concrete part. There is, according to him, an abstract mathematics and a concrete mathematics — an THE ABSTRACT AND THE GENERAL. 67 abstract biology and concrete biology. He says: — "II faut distinguer, par rapport a tous les ordres de plieuomenes, deux genres de sciences naturelles: les unes abstraites, generales, ont pour objet la decouverto des lois qui regissent les diverses classes de pheno- menes, en considerant tous les cas qu'on peut con- cevior ; les autres concretes, particulieres, descriptives, at qu'on designe quelquefois sous le nom de sciences naturelles proprement dites, consistent dans I'applica- tion de ces lois a I'histoire eifective de differens etres existans." And to illustrate the distinction, he names general physiology as abstract, and zoology and botany as concrete. Here it is manifest that the words abstract and general are used as synonymous. They have, however, different meanings ; and confusion results from not distinguishing their meanings. Ab- stractness means detachment from the incidents of parti- cular eases. Generality means manifestation in numerous cases. On the one hand, the essential nature of soipe phenomenon is considered, apart from disguising phe- nomena. On the other hand, the frequency of the phenomenon, with or without disguising phenomena, is the thing considered. Among the ideal relations of numbers the two coincide ; but excluding these, an abstract truth is not realizable to perception in any case in which it is asserted, whereas a general truth is realizable to perception in every case of which it is asserted. Some illustrations will make the distinction clear. Thus it is an abstract truth that the angle contained 68 CLASSIFICATIOIT OF THE SCIENCES^ in a semi-circle is a right angle — abstract in the sense that though it does not hold in actually-constructed semi-circles and angles, which are always inexact, it holds in the ideal semi-circles and angles abstracted from real ones ; but this is not a general truth, either in the sense that it is commonly manifested in Nature, or in the sense that it is a space-relation that compre- hends many minor space-relations : it is a quite special space-relation. Again, that the momentum of a body causes it to move in a straight line at a uniform velocity, is an abstract-concrete truth — a truth abstracted from certain experiences of concrete phenomena ; but it is by no means a general truth : so little generality has it, that no one fact in Nature displays it. Conversely, surrounding things supply us with hosts of general truths that are not in the least abstract. It is a general truth that the planets go round the Sun from "West to East — a truth which holds good in something like a hundred cases (includ- ing the cases of the planetoids) ; but this truth is not at all abstract, since it is perfectly realized as a concrete fact in every one of these cases. Every vertebrate animal whatever, has a double nervous system ; all birds and all mammals are warm- blooded — these are general truths, but they are concrete truths : that is to say, every vertebrate animal individually presents an entire and unqualified manifestation of this duality of the nervous system ; every living bird exemplifies absolutely or completely WHAT IS A GENEEAL TEUTH. 69 the warm-bloodedness of birds. What we here call; and rightly call, a general truth, is simply a pro- position which stims tip a number of our actual expe- riences J and not the expression of a truth drawn from our actual exiieriences, but never presented to us in any of them. In other words, a general truth colligates a number of particular truths ; while an abstract truth colligates no particular truths, but formulates a truth which certain phenomena all in- volve, though it is actually seen in none of them. Limiting the words to their proper meanings as thus defined, it becomes manifest that the three classes of Sciences above separated, are not distinguishable at all by differences in their degrees of generality. They are all equally general ; or rather they are all, considered as groups, universal. Every object whatever presents at once the subject-matter for each of them. In the smallest particle of substance we have simultaneously illustrated the abstract truths of relation in Time and Space ; the abstract-concrete truths in conformity with -^v^hich the particle mani- fests its several modes of force ; and the concrete truths which are the laws of the joint manifestation of these modes of force. Thus these three classes of Sciences severally formulate different, but co-extensive, classes of facts. Within each group there are truths of greater and less generality : there are general abstract truths, and special abstract truths ; general abstract- concrete truths, and special abstract-concrete truths ' YO CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. general concrete truths, and special concrete truths. But while within each class there are groups and sub-groups and sub-sub-groups which differ in their degrees of generality, the classes themselves differ only in their degrees of abstractness.* * Some propositions laid down by M. Littre, in his lately-published book — Aur/uste Comte et la Fhilosophie Positive, may fitly be dealt ■with here. In the candid and courteous reply he makes to my strictures on the Comtean classifica- tion in " The Genesis of Science," he endeavours to clear up some of the incon- sistencies I pointed out; and he does this by drawing a distinction between objective generality and subjective generality. He says — " qu'il existe deux ordres de generalite, I'une objective et dans Ics choses, I'autre subjective, abstraite et dans I'esprit." This sentence, in which M. Littre makessubjective generality synonymous with abstractness, led me at first to conclude that he had in view the same distinction as that which I have above explained between generality and abstractness. On re-reading the paragraph, however, I found this was not the case. In a previous sentence he says — " La biologie a passe de la consideration des organes 5, celles des tissus, plus generaux que les organes, et de la consideration dcs tissus a celle des elements anatomiques, plus generaux que les tissus. Mais cctte generalite croissante est subjective non objective, abstraite non concrete." Here it is manifest that abstract and concrete, are used in senses analogous to those in which they are used by M. Comte; who, as we have seen, regards general physiology as abstract and zoology and botany as concrete. And it is further manifest that the word abstract, as thus used, is not used in its proper sense. J?or, as above shown, no such facts as those of anatomical structure can be abstract facts ; but can only be more or less general facts . Nor do I under- stand M. Littre's point of view when he regards these more general facts of anatomical stiiicture, as subjectively general and not ohjectively general. The structural phenomena presented by any tissue, such as mucous membrane, are more general than the phenomena presented by any of the organs which mucous membrane goes to form, simply in the sense that the phenomena peculiar to the membrane are repeated in a greater number of instances than the phenomena peculiar to any organ into the composition of which the membrane enters. And, similarly, such facts as have •been established respecting the anatomical elements of tissues, are more general than the facts established respecting any particular tissue, in the sense that they are facts which organic bodies exhibit iu a greater number of cases — they are ohjeetimly more general; and they can be called subjectively more general only in the sense that the conception corresponds with the phenomena. Let me endeavour to clear up this point : — There is, as M. Littr^ truly savs, a decreasing generality that is objective. If we omit the phenomena of Dissolu- tion, which are changes from the special to the general, all changes which matter •indcrgoes are from the general to the special — arc changes involving a decreasing ABSTRACT SCIENCE. 71 Passing to the sub-divisions of these classes, we find that the first class is separable into two parts— the one containing universal truths, the other non-uni- versal truths. Dealing wholly with relations apart from related things, Abstract Science considers first, that which is common to all relations whatever ; and second, that Avhich is common to each order of rela- tions. Besides the indefinite and variable connexions which exist among phenomena, as occurring together in Space and Time, we find that there are also definite generality in the united groups of attributes. This is the progress of things. The progress of thought, is not only in the same direction, but also in the oppo- site direction. The investigation of Nature discloses an increasing number of specialities ; but it simultaneously discloses more and more the generalities within which these specialities fall. Take a case. Zoology, while it goes on multiply- ing the number of its species, and getting a more complete knowledge of each species (decreasing generality) ; also goes on discovering the common characters by which species are united into larger groups (increasing generality). Both these are subjective processes ; and in this ease, both orders of truths reached are con- crete — formulate the phenomena as actually manifested. M. Littr^, recognizing the necessity for some modification of the hierarchy of the Sciences, as enunciated by M. Comte, still regards it as substantially true ; and for proof of its validity, he appeals mainly to the essential constitutions of the Sciences. It is unnecessary for me here to meet, in detail, the arguments by •which he supports the proposition, that the essential constitutions of the Sciences, justify the order in which M. Comte places them. It will suffice to refer to the foregoing pages, and to the pages which are to follow, as containing the defini- • tions of those fundamental characteristics which demand the grouping of the Sciences in the way pointed out. As already shown, and as ivill be shown still more clearly by and bye, the radical differences of constitution among the Sciences, necessitate the colligation of them into the three classes — Abstract, Abstract-Concrete, and Concrete. How irreconcilable is M. Comte's classification with these groups, will be at once apparent on inspection" It stands thus : — Mathematics (including rational Mechanics), partly Abstract, partly Abstract-Concrete. Astronomy Concrete. Physics Abstract-Concrete. Chemistry Abstract-Concrete. Biology Concrete. Sociology. Concrete. 72 CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCES. and invariable connexions — that between each kind of phenomenon and certain other kinds of phenomena, there exist uniform relations. This is a universal abstract truth — that there is an unchanging order among things in Space and Time. We come next to the several kinds of unchanging order, which, taken together, form the subjects of the second division of Abstract Science. Of this second divi- sion, the most general sub-division is that which deals with the natures of the connexions in Space and Time, irrespective of the terms connected. The conditions under which we may predicate a rela- tion of coincidence or proximity in Space and Time (or of non-coincidence or non-proximity) form the subject-matter of Logic. Here the natures and amounts of the terms between which the relations are asserted (or denied) are of no moment : the proposi- tions of Logic are independent of any qualitative or quantitative specification of the related things. The other sub-division has for its subject-matter, the' relations between terms which are specified quanti- tatively but not qualitatively. The amounts of the related terms, irrespective of their natures, are here dealt with; and Mathematics is a statement of the laws of quantity considered apart, from reality. Quan- tity considered apart from reality, is occupancy of Space or Time; and occupancy of Space or Time is measured by the number of coexistent or sequent positions occupied. That is to say, quantities can be MATHEMATICAL IDEAS, 73 compared and the relations between them established, only by some direct or indirect enumeration of their component units; and the ultimate units into which all others are decomposable, are such occupied posi- tions in Space as can^ by making impressions on consciousness, produce occupied positions in Time. Among units that are unspecified in their natures (extensive, protensive, or intensive), but are ideally endowed with existence considered apart from attri- butes, the quantitative relations that arise, are those most general relations expressed by numbers. Such relations fall into either of two orders, according as the units are considered simply as capable of filling separate places in consciousness, or according as they are considered as filling places that are not only sepa- rate, but equal. In the one case, we have that inde- finite calculus by which numbers of abstract existences, but not sums of abstract existence, are predicable. In the other case, we have that definite calculus by which both numbers of abstract existences and sums of abstract existence are predicable. Next comes that division of Mathematics which deals with the quanti- tative relations of magnitudes (or aggregates of units) considered as coexistent, or as occupying Space — the division called Geometry. And then we arrive at relations, the terms of which include both quantities of Time and quantities of Space — those in which times are estimated by the units of space traversed at a uniform velocity, and those in which equal T4 CLASSIFICATION OF THE SCIENCISS. units of time being given, tlie spaces traversed with uniform or variable velocities are estimated. These Abstract Sciences, which are concerned exclusively with relations and with the relations of relations, may- be grouped as shown in Table I. Passing from the Sciences that treat of the ideal or unoccupied forms of relations, and turning to the Sciences that treat of real relations, or the relations among realities, we come first to those Sciences which deal with realities, not as they are habitually mani- fested to us, but with realities as manifested in their different modes, when these are artificially separated from one another. In the same way that the Abstract Sciences are ideal, relatively to the Abstract-Concrete and Concrete Sciences ; so the Abstract-Concrete Sciences are ideal, relatively to the Concrete Sciences. Just as Logic and Mathematics have for their object to generalize the laws of relation, qualitative and quantitative, apart from related things; so, Mecha- nics, Physics, Chemistry, etc., hate for their object to generalize the laws of relation which different modes of Matter and Motion conform to, when seve- rally disentangled from those actual phenomena in which they are mutually modified. Just as the geometrician formulates the properties of lines and surfaces, independently of the irregularities and thick- nesses of lines and surfaces as they really exist; so, the physicist and the chcmiKst formulate the moiii- Missing Page THE LAWS OF MOTION. To festations of each, mode of force, independently of the disturbances in its manifestations which other modes of force cause in every actual case. In works on Mechanics, the laws of motion are expressed with- out reference to friction and resistance of. the medium. Not what motion ever really is, but what it would be if retarding forces were absent, is asserted. If any retarding force is taken into account, then the effect of this retarding force is alone contemplated : neglect- ing the other retarding forces. Consider, again, the generalizations of the physicist respecting molecular motion. The law that light varies inversely as the square of the distance, is absolutely true only when the radiation goes on from a point without dimensions, which it never does ; and it also assumes that the rays are perfectly straight, which they cannot be unless the medium differs from all actual media in being perfectly homogeneous. If the disturbing effects of changes of media are investigated, the formulfB expressing the refractions take for granted that the new media entered are homogeneous ; Avhich they never really are. Even when a compound disturbance is allowed for, as when the refraction undergone by light in traversing a medium of in- creasing density, like the atmosphere, is calculated, the calculation still supposes conditions that are un- naturally simple — it supposes that the atmosphere is not pervaded by heterogeneous currents, which it always is. Similarly with the inquiries of tho 76 CLASSIFIOATION OF THE SCIENCES. cliemist. He does not take Ms substances as Nature supplies them. Before lie proceeds to specify their respective properties, he purifies them — separates from each all trace of every other. Before ascertaining the specific gravity of a gas, he has to free this gas from the vapour of Tvater, usually mixed with it. Before describing the properties of a salt, he guards against any error that may arise from the presence of an uncombined portion of the acid or base. And when he alleges of any element that it has a certain atomic weight, and unites with such and such equivalents of other ■ elements, he does not mean that the results thus expressed are exactly the results of any one experiment; but that they are the results which, after averaging nany trials, he concludes would be realized if absolute purity could be obtained, and if the experiments could be conducted without loss. His problem is to ascertain the laws of combination of molecules, not as they are actually displayed, but as they would be displayed in the absence of those minute interferences which cannot be altogether avoided. Thus all these Abstract-Con- crete Sciences have for their object, analytical inter- pretation. In every case it is the aim to decompose the phenomenon, and formulate its components apart from one another; or some two or three apart from the rest. Wherever, throughout these Sciences, syn- thesis is employed, it is for the verification of analysis.* * 1 am indebted to Prof. Fr.inkland for reminding me of an objection tbat may be THE ABSTEACT-CONOEETE SCIENCES. 77 The truths elaborated are severally asserted, not as truths exhibited by this or that particular object ; but as truths universally holding of Matter and Motion in their more general or more special forms, considered apart from particular objects, and particular places in space. The sub-divisions of this group of Sciences, may be drawn on the same principle as that on which the sub-divisions of the preceding group were drawn. Phenomena, considered as more or less involved manifestations of force, yield on analysis, certain laws of manifestation that are universal, and other laws of manifestation, which, being dependent on conditions, are not universal. Hence the Abstract- Concrete Sciences are primarily divisible into — the laws of force considered apart from its separate modes, and laws of force considered under each of its sepa- rate modes. And this second division of the Abstract- Concrete group, is sub-divisible after a manner essen- tially analogous. It is needless to occupy space by made fo this statement. The production of new compounds by synthesis, has of late become an important branch of chemistry. According to certain known laws of composition, complex substances, which never before existed, are formed, and fulfil anticipations both as to their general properties and as to the proportions of their constituents — as proved by analysis. Here it may he said with truth, that analysis is used to vemy synthesis. Nevertheless, the exception to the above statement is apparent only — not real. In so far as the production of new com- pounds is carried on merely for the obtainment of such new compounds, it is not Science but Art— the application of pre-established knowledge to the achievement of ends. The proceeding is a part of Science, only in so far as it is a means to the better interpretation of the order of Natm'e. And how does it aid the inter- pretation ? It does it only by verifying the pre-established conclusions respecting the laws of molecular combination ; or by serving further to explain them. That is to say, these syntheses, considered on their scientific side, have simply the pur- pose of forwarding the analysis af the laws of chemical combination.