Chapter III: Part 3

This has been the epitome of all American history; each party government, by whatever name it may have been known, has been liberal in comparison with its predecessor and conservative as to its successor. When Washington organised his administration it was no doubt regarded in Europe as highly revolutionary and anarchistic. But such a class government, with laws of entail and slavery, and cruel punishments for petty offences, as existed then, would not be tolerated for a single year at the present time. Thomas Jefferson who founded the democratic party, then called the republican, was a consistent opponent of aristocracy and personally was a man far in advance of his time, but most of his followers would be horrified if they should now come back to earth and see the powers possessed by the general government to-day, necessary, legitimate powers, without which the affairs of the nation could not be administered for a single week. The United States soon got rid of laws of entail and the established churches. The democracy came to power and held it nearly sixty years. Long continuance in office endeared its possession to that party while the very growth of the nation, from five millions to thirty-one millions, demanded changes in internal policy which were not forthcoming. There were not lacking signs of popular discontent. In 1840 the democrats met their first defeat, and for three or four presidential terms the votes vibrated between the democrats and the whigs. But the latter were not united on a consistent policy. They needed a principle. The principle was shaping itself. Slavery, which had been abolished in the Northern states, was gradually strengthening in the South. The democrats forgot, or rather most of them never learned, that true democracy knows no distinction of color. The abolitionists were denounced by press and pulpit as socialists, as the disturbers of public order, as blasphemers against the very law of God contained in Holy Writ. The people, however, returned to power these same socialists and the institution of chattel slavery was doomed. That would have been the case in any event, but the civil war precipitated it, just as many other unjust wars in history have resulted in disestablishing the very institutions to perpetuate which the wars were made.

The republican party grandly and patriotically fulfilled its mission. By degrees, however, the enormous destruction of wealth during the war and the heavy debt entailed by it, created a burdensome system of taxation which substituted self-interest for patriotism. Duties were laid upon imports from abroad heavier than those which formed one of the chief causes for the revolt of the colonies against Great Britain. These duties enabled American manufacturers to make on American soil the same class of goods that were imported and charge the same price as the imported goods enhanced by the duty, of course pocketing for themselves the extra profit which the tariff aided them to obtain from consumers. The quickest way to wealth was to start some manufacture, get the government to put a tax on similar articles imported and pocket the difference, or to get an internal revenue measure passed taxing a certain line of domestic goods, pay the tax in the first instance and then charge it to the consumers with of course a good commission added for patriotic services. As long as the government had work for every man who could shoulder a musket, the pernicious effect of the system was not clearly seen. But when the war was over and one million men returned to productive avocations, wages began to fall. Then the question of taxation inevitably came to the front and has now become the living issue of the hour. The needle of the suffrage is again vibrating, the republican party has been deprived of power for four years and the democratic President emphasised the issue by pushing the question of tariff reform to the foreground. His re-election was defeated, but the question is debated with more vigor than ever, and all signs point to absolute free trade as one of the certainties of the future. Judging from the last Congressional elections, the people have at last turned their faces in the right direction.

It will be noticed that two elements, which I have called the centripetal and the centrifugal, have been predominant in shaping American politics. They may be termed the socialistic and the anarchistic forces. Socialism claims the direction of everything by a strong centralised government. Anarchists say with the democrats, “That government is best which governs least,” and logically argue for the abolition of all government. Now, the right or wrong of these principles depends upon their application. Only the most rabid anarchist would object to the Post Office, for instance, and few socialists would claim that the state has a right to regulate a man’s clothing or his religion. It is on the question as to what subjects these principles should be applied that all our American parties arise. The early federalists were socialistic in that they believed in a strong central government and in relegating as few things as possible to the states. President Jefferson introduced the anarchistic or centrifugal principle of decentralisation and individualism. But as the nation grew, it was seen that this wrought injustice, especially in the matter of slavery which was a violation of human rights, however the different states might regard it. Then the socialistic or centripetal principle began to act and slavery disappeared. Now it seems likely that the individualistic principle will again become dominant in an attempt to abolish all fiscal restrictions upon trade. After this may follow the socialistic principle of state ownership of railways and telegraphs. Perhaps this will be the work of the new political forces evidently gathering, as foreshadowed by the Farmers’ Alliance, after the breaking-up of parties and after the democrats, having given us free trade, will have resumed their natural position of conservatives. Then, in the remoter future, may come the anarchistic principle of the removal of the restrictions against female suffrage. And so it will go on, first one principle acting and fulfilling its mission, then the other, each bringing the nation to a higher plane of progress and uniting it more and more closely with the grand upward march of the human race.

What is this, after all? It is not socialism. It is not anarchy. It is neither democracy nor republicanism. It is EVOLUTION. It does not depend on the temporary success of party governments for its action. It does not even solely result from our unique position or our independence wrested from Great Britain. Back of it lie the broad principles of British liberty, of common law, of Magna Charta won from King John on the plains of Runnymede. Back of it is the great wave of democracy arising out of the darkness of the Middle Ages. Back of it are the injunctions of Him of Galilee who taught the natural law as no man ever taught before. Back of it is Roman jurisprudence and Greek art and culture and the early efforts of the days when Cadmus brought the alphabet to Europe with his Phœnician colony. Indeed, back of it lies the primeval impulse of the first man, God-endowed, ape-descended, who stood upon his feet and began to think. We may carry our thoughts still further to the times when the red sunlight first filtered through the thick clouds upon an uninhabited world, and still further may we go in thought into the ages of eternity, and assert with fullest confidence that the principles of progress to-day working themselves out in politics are but the reflection of the divine ideals founded in the laws of nature.

Can the course of such progress be turned back? Can we despair of the future in the light of all the past? Is not the general movement onward and upward? Will not the sneers at ephemeral phases of our American politics pass away with the incidents which they justly condemn, while the principles of progress remain forever?

THOMAS B. PRESTON.

ARTIFICIAL SELECTION AND THE MARRIAGE PROBLEM.[7]

By artificial selection I mean all conscious and purposive arrangements between men and women which have in view character of offspring. This is opposed to natural selection which is merely instinctive unteleological union with one of the opposite sex as impelled by animal passion or romantic love. All sexual union among the lower animals is by natural selection; they do not forecast consequences, and by conforming to known laws determine consequences. Among the lower races of men natural selection is the sole or at least dominant factor in marital matters, but as civilisation advances artificial selection becomes a more and more powerful element. A truly thoughtful and intelligent man in our day in view of marriage will most carefully consider his own life history and that of his parents and ancestors, and also that of his intended partner and her ancestors, as to physical or mental disease, which might be handed down to the issue of the proposed union. He would not, for instance, marry into a family which has a tendency to consumption or insanity, for this would be a crime against his possible descendants. Further, this growth of artificial selection with the progress of society is manifest not only as regards individual action but by state regulation. Even in barbarous states it soon becomes evident to the leaders that if strong healthy men are to be had to defend and maintain the nation, strict attention must be paid to the character of those who marry. In Sparta and other ancient states this principle was recognised, and modern governments seek in many more or less indirect ways to encourage marriage between the most fit, so that good citizens and warriors may be raised up to serve the state. All this regulation of marriage by either individual or state action which looks to the character of offspring I term artificial selection.

In the evolution of man as a rational animal artificial selection will more and more prevail, and human breeding will become a well defined art. Man is always artificial,[8] and it is his goal to become in all his life unnatural and thoroughly artful. There can ultimately be no _laissez-faire_ policy as to marriage or any other institution. The history of marriage is the history of the gradual retirement of natural selection; but art has come in here more slowly than in other relations of life owing to tremendous conservatism and the power of human passion. But the time has now come when man must more than ever before attend by artificial selection—that is, purposed care—to the perpetuation of the species in the line of its true advancement, spiritual achievement. I do not now see how the necessity of artificial selection can be gainsaid by any one who takes a broad view of the evolution of the race.

The methods of artificial selection are either negative, which restrain the unfit from propagating, or positive, which encourage the fit to propagate. The most radical negative method is mutilation, and is employed by man with the lower animals and with slaves, but this plan could hardly be used by civilised society for human breeding. Imprisonment temporarily restrains some classes of society from perpetuating themselves. Prevention of conception is at present mostly a voluntary means, but accomplishes the elimination of both fit and unfit. Celibacy of monk and nun, of bachelor and maid, works also in both directions. In many indirect ways society discourages from marriage those whom it supposes to be unfit as tested by wealth, rank, or birth.

It is not, however, so much by the extension of any negative methods, but rather by positive means that artificial selection may be best employed. I will mention three forms by which human breeding might be materially advanced.

By common law and custom the wife surrenders herself physically to submit and morally to obey the husband. This is not for the most part harshly and literally carried out in civilised countries; still there is a vast deal of oppression which is hidden from all eyes, and which is often passively received by women as her rightful lot. This again is a subject upon which delicacy—perhaps unwise—forbids free discussion, but its bearing is manifest. If women have the choice to bear or not to bear, and she with educated conscience choose by fitness of offspring, a large and powerful element of artificial selection may be introduced. Again all governments have laws concerning marriage which act in general toward encouraging the fit. Certain conditions as to age, etc., being fulfilled, the state grants a marriage licence, and public opinion might easily be led to make the requirements more stringent. As a physician has suggested to me a certificate of health from an approved medical examiner might be required of all applicants for legal marriage. This would certainly be a strong measure of artificial selection, and would save much misery springing from ignorance and vice. It surely seems scarcely fitting that those who cannot pass an examination for life insurance freely contract marriage with view to issue.

But the plan of artificial selection which seems to me most feasible at the present time would be voluntary associations of men and women who bind themselves to learn and apply the laws of heredity in their marriage relations, to seek for expert guidance, and in all their life to live not merely purely, but according to reason and science. Heredity societies of this stamp which should favor marriages only between members would ultimately become a rational aristocracy, and true and good blood would be perpetuated in the best manner. There is much, indeed, to be done in the science of heredity, especially as regards laws of transmission of mental and moral qualities,[9] but still we have even now a sufficient basis of knowledge to make the experiment well worth trying.

Many objections can be raised to such schemes. For instance, it will be said that they might assure us of obtaining men of talent, but we should forever lose men of genius. If such societies were in, vogue in the Elizabethan period, we might never have had a Shakespeare. What likelihood that a scientific expert would advise the marriage of John Shakespeare and Mary Arden! I answer that we should have had a dozen Shakespeares instead of one. The law of the production of geniuses is not beyond human ken. Maud S. is truly a genius in horseflesh, but she came into the world in no fortuitous or instinctive way, but by scientific breeding. The applicability of similar foresight in breeding men would produce geniuses in abundance. It may not be accomplished in an exactly analogous manner, an expert leading around eminent men to “make the season,” but the analogous practical results will nevertheless be obtained.

Another objection which might be urged is that any such scheme would seriously diminish population. True; but what thoughtful man applies the numerical test to the progress of the race! It is not quantity of citizens but quality, which constitutes the true greatness of states. The counting of heads instead of what is in heads, is a mistake into which democracies are peculiarly apt to fall. Were all men exactly equal a census would be a true test, but considering the tremendous inequalities in humanity it is sheer folly for a country to glory in the number of its adherents, or a sect in the number of its adherents, or a city in the number of its citizens. Civilisations are weighed down and ultimately crushed by the dead weight of the masses. The barbarian is not without but within the civilisation. By recent inquiries in New York and Chicago the slums appear to be five times as prolific as the most aristocratic portions; and while good may come from the lowest born, and bad from the highest born, still the chances are decidedly in favor of the high born. A few rise above the level of their birth, a few sink below it, but the great majority of men remain for their lives on the general level of society in which they were born. The United States would be a greater nation with 10,000,000 choice inhabitants than with ten times 10,000,000 of the ill bred and low bred. Athens by the vulgar test of numbers was but a small and mean city, but in true greatness as revealed in far reaching spiritual power, she stands in the very forefront.

Again it will be objected that scientific schemes for human breeding would inevitably destroy that beautiful flower of Christian civilisation, the poetry and romance of love. Sentiment and chivalry would wither, and brutality and cold calculation would supplant all tender and refined emotion. I should answer that the true refinement which refuses to obtrude the things of sense, and true purity which refuses to dwell on them salaciously, are perfectly compatible with the fullest knowledge and the consequent action. Lubricity breeds best upon a half knowledge acquired in dubious ways. A serious practical scientific treatment of this subject will not glorify the flesh with the fierce gusto of Walt Whitman, nor, with the Zola school, dwell upon animalism with the morbid detail of a heated imagination; but it will bring into the clearest light the laws of sex and the rules for the development of the human race into the perfect man. These laws of nature, which science reveals, are laws of duty and laws of God, and when once appropriated as such by Ethics and Religion, they will become the basis for all that is high in emotion and chivalrous in action.

In that most vital of matters, human breeding, man is far behind his progress in all other spheres of action; but here as elsewhere Science must enter, not to destroy but to fulfil, to build up manhood and womanhood into the perfected relations which can only come from rational action, illuminated by complete knowledge, and sanctioned by noblest sentiment.

HIRAM M. STANLEY.

FOOTNOTES:

[7] In an article in _The Arena_ for June, 1890, I endeavored to plainly set forth the renewal of society from its lowest elements as the greatest disease in our social life, and to show that the remedy lies in a thorough application of science to human breeding. Just how this application was to be made I did not state, for I did not include this in the scope of my discussion. Mr. Stead in his _Review of Reviews_ for July, 1890, and Mr. Wallace in the September _Fortnightly Review_ and October _Popular Science Monthly_, 1890, have drawn inferences on this point which I am not prepared to allow. Mr. Stead speaks in headlines and in text of “murder, mutilation, or imprisonment” as the methods which I hint at, and Mr. Wallace remarks upon my views “that such interference with personal freedom in matters so deeply affecting individual happiness will never be adopted by the majority of any nation, or if adopted would never be submitted to by the minority without a life-and-death struggle.” It seems incumbent then on me to state more clearly what I understand by artificial selection, and what forms of it are most expedient at the present time.

[8] By artificial I understand not what is unnatural or against nature but that which is after conscious deliberation more in accord with the laws of nature. It is a higher degree of the natural.

[9] See my remarks on this point in _Nature_, Oct. 31, 1889.

THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE.

I have read with interest Prof. Max Müller’s paper on the above subject in the current issue of _The Monist_, not only because it is in large part devoted to a consideration of my own work on “Mental Evolution,” but still more because the explanations which it supplies touching certain points of disagreement between us appear to show that I have not misrepresented his statements, even if, as he alleges, I have misapprehended his meanings.

The work to which allusion has just been made was published in 1888, and, as far as I am aware, it is only now that Prof. Max Müller has sought to meet my views as there expressed. Hence we may take it that his answer is, at all events, well matured. Furthermore, we may take it, from the tone in which his answer is conveyed, that he credits me with having had at least an honest desire to understand, and accurately to represent, his meaning in all the places where I have ventured to criticise it. It appears, however, that at all events in one important respect I have betrayed “a complete misapprehension” of his meaning—viz. with reference to his “theory of the origin of roots” (_The Monist_, p. 582); and it is for the purpose of correcting this misapprehension that he has published the latter half of his present paper. My reply, therefore, must take the form of excusing myself for the complete misapprehensions which are alleged.

It is desirable at the outset to emphasise a distinction which I was careful to draw in my work on “Mental Evolution in Man”—that, namely, between philology and philosophy. A man may be an excellent authority on the “Science of Language,” and yet but a very indifferent writer on the “Science of Thought.” On the other hand, a man may know nothing at first hand touching the special province of a philologist, and nevertheless be fully capable of criticising what a philologist has published in the way of theoretical deductions from his facts—especially where these deductions quit the sphere of philology, and soar into that of Darwinian, or anti-Darwinian, speculation. This distinction, indeed, between the particular science of philology and the general scope of philosophy, Prof. Max Müller himself recognises where he says: “While the student of language seems to me to have a perfect right to treat the roots of language as ultimate facts, it is difficult for the philosopher not to look beyond.” (_The Monist_, p. 579.) Nevertheless he complains of me because, while accepting all his philological facts upon his authority as a philologist (save in so far as they are not accepted by other philologists), I have been obliged to express dissent from not a few of his theoretical deductions—especially, as I have already indicated, where these have reference to the general doctrine of evolution as applied to the mind of man. But how, I may ask, could a treatise be written on “Mental Evolution in Man,” or “The Origin of Human Faculty,” without considering the results which have been gained by the science of comparative philology? Or how can it be maintained that, in order to deal with these results in relation to the general theory of descent, a writer must first of all himself become an authority in that particular science? At any rate, I deemed it enough for the only purposes which I had in view, to read attentively all the leading authorities in this science, and, after extracting from them the information upon matters of fact which their researches had established, to show what I regarded as the bearing of these facts upon the theory of mental evolution. Nor can I plead guilty to the charge of arrogant presumption, which the following words appear to convey:

“We see in his case how dangerous it is for a man who can claim
to speak with authority on his own special subject, to venture
to speak with authority on subjects not his own. Professor
Romanes has, no doubt, read several books on philology and
philosophy, but he is not sufficiently master of his subject to
have the slightest right to speak of men like Noiré, Huxley,
Herbert Spencer, to say nothing of Hobbes, with an air of
superiority. That is entirely out of place.” (_The Monist_, p.
383.)

Now that any such “air of superiority” occurs in my book, I must deny—and this is a matter of fact. Noiré is alluded to only with reference to his theory of the origin of language, which I go further in accepting than does any “philosopher” or “philologist,” with the single exception of Prof. Max Müller himself. Huxley is mentioned in several places as a leading authority on anatomical matters, where my argument requires an authoritative statement upon them. Herbert Spencer, curiously enough, is never mentioned at all; while Hobbes is named only once, and then as sustaining, by a “shrewd analysis,” an opinion which I am advocating by quotations from recognised authorities in philosophy. Truly, therefore, it would be well for my critic “to say nothing of Hobbes”; and better still if he had looked at my index before condemning my supposed treatment of Herbert Spencer, Huxley, and Noiré. As it is, his allusion to these names “is entirely out of place.”

But even apart from this particularly unfortunate allusion, his more general charge as to my “venturing to speak authoritatively on subjects not his [my] own,” is equally out of place. The following is my introduction to the chapter on Comparative Philology, and I cannot see that it betokens any “air of superiority”:

“In now turning to this important branch of my subject, I may
remark, _in limine_, that, like all the sciences, philology can
be cultivated only by those who devote themselves specially
to the purpose. My function, therefore, will here be that
of merely putting together the main results of philological
research, so far as this has hitherto proceeded, and so far
as these results appear to me to have any bearing upon the
‘origin of human faculty.’ Being thus myself obliged to rely
upon authority, where I find that authorities are in conflict,
I will either avoid the points of disagreement, or else state
what has to be said on both sides of the question. But where
I find that all competent authorities are in substantial
agreement, I will not burden my exposition by tautological
quotations.”

* * * * *

Having thus disposed of a merely personal matter, I may pass on to my justification of the “complete misapprehension” into which I have fallen with respect to Prof. Max Müller’s work on the “Science of Thought.”

In the first place he tells us:

“On page 267 Mr. Romanes says that I profess, as a result of
more recent researches, to have reduced the number of Sanskrit
roots to 121. I wish I had. But the number of roots in Sanskrit
stands as yet at about 800: the number 121 of which he speaks
is the number of concepts expressed by these roots, many of
them conveying the same, or nearly the same, idea.” (_The
Monist_, p. 583.)

Now it is quite true that on page 267 I made the statement which is here challenged; but as I immediately go on to speak repeatedly of the “number 121” as being “the number of concepts expressed by the roots,”—and actually quote at length the whole 121 concepts with Prof. Max Müller’s own heading,—I am not sure that the point is worth the stress which is now laid upon it. Nevertheless, I may explain why in this one passage I used the word “roots,” instead of the word “concepts.” Briefly, the only reason was because, according to Prof. Max Müller’s theory of the origin of roots, it seemed to me virtually the same thing, from a psychological point of view, whether we speak of the reduction in question as pertaining to roots or to concepts. For, according to the theory, “every root embodies a concept,” or is the obverse side of a concept. Consequently, if the Sanskrit language presents some 800 roots, while it is expressive of only 121 concepts, the balance of the 800 roots must be concerned in conveying the same, or nearly the same, ideas—as Prof. Max Müller himself expressly asserts in the above quotation from _The Monist_. Indeed, the whole object of his psychological analysis of linguistic roots was to prove that such is the case; and, therefore, that the 121 roots which serve to convey the 121 concepts are the only roots required for the purposes of communication in Sanskrit speech. No doubt it would have been better if I had stated all this in my book; but even if its omission led to obscurity, I can scarcely see that on this account there could have been a “misrepresentation” where there was certainly no “misapprehension.” For, as already stated, I spoke of “121 roots” only once, while I alluded to “121 concepts” many times—and usually, moreover, in inverted commas. Lastly, it may be observed that, following his theory concerning the “origin of roots,” Prof. Max Müller himself so far identifies roots with concepts as to head one of his lists, in large capitals—ROOTS OR CONCEPTS. Therefore in saying that he professed to have reduced the psychologically efficient elements of Sanskrit speech to 121 constituents, it did not appear to me that I was departing from his own terminology when in one passage I spoke of these 121 constituents as roots, while everywhere else I spoke of them as concepts. “Give us,” he says, “about 800 roots, and we can explain the largest dictionary; give us about 121 concepts, and we can account for the 800 roots.” (“Science of Thought,” p. 551.) Well, if this is so, the 800 roots (i. e. phonetically separable elements) have been reduced to the 121 “concepts or roots” (i. e. psychologically separable elements). My critic cannot both have his cake and eat it. Either he must abide by the philological meaning of a root, as the ultimate result of philological analysis; or else he must abide by his own philosophical meaning of a root, as the embodiment of a concept. Under the former definition there will be about 800 roots of Sanskrit; under the latter definition, and according to his analysis, there will be only 121.

* * * * *

The next point with regard to which “complete misapprehension” is alleged may best be presented by my critic’s own words, thus:

“Professor Romanes thinks it necessary to remark that ‘these
concepts do not represent the ideation of primitive man’! I
never said they did. I never pretended to be acquainted with
the ideation of primitive man. All I maintained was that,
making allowance for obscure words, every thought, that of the
lowest savage as well as of the most minute philosopher, can be
expressed with these 800 roots, and traced back to these 121
concepts.” (_The Monist_, p. 584.)

Now, it is perhaps needless to say, I am extremely glad to learn that such was the meaning intended; but I trust that the following quotations will furnish a sufficient excuse for my misunderstanding of it:

“I hope that those who will carefully examine the results
at which I have arrived, will admit that they prove by
overwhelming evidence that the meanings of roots are really
what we expected them to be, and that they express the
primitive social acts of primitive social man, and the states
more or less closely associated with such acts.” (“Science of
Thought,” p. 403.)

From this it appears that if Prof. Max Müller never professed to be acquainted with the ideation of _primitive_ man, he did profess to have proved, by overwhelming evidence, a very large acquaintance, not only with the ideation, but also with primitive acts of primitive _social_ man. Possibly his acquaintance with both these matters is very much more intimate than mine; but as I have always taken it to be virtually certain that “primitive man” was “social” in his habits, I should like to learn the reasons which have induced my critic to believe in a still more “primitive man,” who was addicted to a solitary mode of life. For, otherwise, the only distinction on which his criticism appears to rest is a distinction without a difference.

Again he says:

“The Science of Thought assures us that every thought that ever
crossed the mind of man can be traced back to about 121 simple
concepts.” (Ibid., p. 418.)

And that the word “man” here is not intended tacitly to exclude “primitive man” (whether “social” or solitary), I gathered from the fact of the 121 concepts in question being tabulated under the heading, in large capitals, THE 121 ORIGINAL CONCEPTS. For, if the word “original” here was intended to mean original only with reference to the Sanskrit language, why did the writer follow it up with his statement about the Science of Thought, assuring us that _every_ thought which had _ever_ crossed the mind of _man_ could be _traced back_ to these 121 original concepts?

Lastly, not only by such particular passages was I led to suppose that the writer was referring to “primitive man” when he was writing about “primitive social man,” etc.; but still more was I led to suppose this by the whole drift and tenor of his work. For what would be the sense of all his disquisitions upon the importance of linguistic science in its relation to the theory of evolution, if he intended to restrict his inferences to the _semi-civilised_ condition of man, which (as he allows) must have been the condition of the speakers of Sanskrit? Clearly, if this were his intention, there would have been _no_ sense in all these disquisitions; and therefore, here again, my critic cannot both preserve his cake and consume it. Either let him adopt the position which he takes up in _The Monist_, as a philologist pure and simple, who “never pretended to be acquainted with the ideation of primitive man,” who refuses to go beyond the “facts” of the “Science of Language,” or to speculate upon their theoretical relations to the “Science of Thought”: or else let him do as he does in his published works—superimpose upon his functions as a “Student of Language” the functions of a “Philosopher,” freely speculate upon “the origin of roots,” elaborately argue the whole psychology of “concepts,” and strenuously endeavor to show that “language is the Rubicon of mind,” which not only now, but at all times, has separated man from the lower animals, as a being mysterious in origin, if not unique in kind.

* * * * *

Next we are told:

“Professor Romanes dwells on what he calls the interesting
feature of all roots being verbs. This is simply a
contradiction in terms. In giving the meaning of roots scholars
generally employ the infinitive or the participle, “to go,”
or “going”; but they have stated again and again that a root
ceases to be a root as soon as it is used in a sentence.” (_The
Monist_, p. 584.)

Now, by a “verb” I understand a word that signifies either an action or a state; and by a “root” I understand—here agreeing with Prof. Max Müller himself—“an element of human speech,” so far as this has been hitherto reduced by philological analysis. Again, I hold—in this also agreeing with him—that “as soon as a root is used for predication it becomes a word, whether outwardly it is changed or not.” (“Science of Thought,” p. 440.) Well, if we are agreed upon these points, I do not see how there can be any “contradiction in terms” when I stated the fact “of all roots being verbs.”

In the first place, if one were to agree with Prof. Max Müller himself in holding that originally every root was “something real, something that was actually used in conversation” (Ibid. p. 420), there can be no contradiction in terms if we translate this into saying that originally every root was a word—for the mere quibble that not until it was spoken did the root become a word does not affect the matter, any more than if we were to say the same of any word now in use, which has given birth to a progeny of other words. But even if we disagree with Prof. Max Müller, and suppose that roots are merely “phonetic elements,” or the residual extract of a group of originally allied words, we should still be correct in saying that the “concepts” which they “embody” are all concepts which now admit of being expressed in equivalent words.

So much for the “contradiction in terms,” which is alleged to arise if we speak of roots as _words_. Touching the second point, or the accuracy of saying that the words which roots express are always _verbs_, my defence is sufficiently easy. For to say, as my critic says, that “in giving the meaning of roots scholars generally employ the infinitive or the participle,” appears to me a most unphilosophical observation, since it appears to indicate that in the opinion of its writer the significance of a verb is but conventionally given to a root by the verbal form into which it is thrown by scholars. But the fact is that, even if they tried, scholars could rarely deprive a root of its significance as a verb, no matter into what verbal form they might choose to throw it. Take any root at random, such as HA _to go_. However much we may ring the changes, as “to go,” “going,” “goer,” it is impossible to get rid of the fundamental significance of the root as a verb. And although it is, of course, possible to select a root which presents a more equivocal interpretation, the cases in which this can be done are, comparatively speaking, not numerous, and apparently never such as to exclude the probability of its having primarily conveyed the force of a verb. For instance, HUR _to fall_, may be regarded either as a verb or a noun-substantive; but we cannot say that there is anything to render more probable the view of the root having been originally expressive of a fall than of the act of falling; and inasmuch as there do not appear to be any roots which _can_ only have originally had the force of nouns or adjectives, while there are so many which _can_ only have originally had the force of verbs, we may fairly conclude that in the accidentally more equivocal cases the roots were likewise originally expressive of actions or of states. For, if not, why are there not as many roots which convey such meanings as _sky_, or _blue_ (which never can have had equivalents in the forms of verbs), as there are roots like HA, where we cannot doubt that the meaning from the first must have been the meaning of a verb?

I am the more surprised at this head of Prof. Max Müller’s criticism, because it belongs to the very essence of his own theory touching “the origin of roots,” that they _must_ all originally have conveyed the meaning of verbs. Therefore from end to end of his own book he constantly alludes to roots as expressive of “actions”; never as expressive of objects or qualities. For instance:

“All, or nearly all, the roots of Sanskrit, or rather of the
Aryan family in general, express, as we shall see, acts, and
more particularly the commonest acts performed by members of a
primitive society.” (“Science of Thought,” p. 272.)

And even in _The Monist_ article itself the same thing is stated thus:

“Let us remember that a most careful psychological analysis
had led Noiré to the conclusion that the germs of all
conceptional thought were to be found in the consciousness of
our own repeated acts. And let us place by the side of this,
the well-ascertained fact that the germs of all conceptional
language, what we call roots, express with few exceptions the
repeated acts of men.” (_The Monist_, p. 580.)

Again:

“We begin with the fact that the great bulk of a language
consists of words, derived, according to the strictest rules,
not from cries, but from articulate roots. No one denies this.
We follow this up with a second fact, that nearly all the roots
express acts of men. No one denies that.” (p. 588.)

Very well then, I submit that the only real distinction between Prof. Max Müller’s rendering of this “fact,” and my own rendering of it, consists in my having added “states” to “acts,” and observing that then the comparatively few outstanding roots may be included with the “nearly all” under the one category of “verbs.”

For the distinction which he draws in _The Monist_ is not a real distinction: it is merely a verbal distinction.

Here it is:

“If Professor Romanes approves of my saying that roots stood
for any part of speech, just as the monosyllabic expressions
of children do, I can only say that, if I ever said so, I
expressed myself incorrectly. A root never stands for any part
of speech, because as soon as it is a part of speech it is no
longer a root.” (_The Monist_, p. 585.)

This, as I have previously observed, is merely a quibble. If originally every root was “something real, something used in conversation,” originally all roots were _words_, in just the same sense as “the monosyllabic expressions of children” are words. And if “nearly all these roots express the acts of man,” while most (if not all) the outstanding residuum were apparently expressive of states, it follows that the roots in question were not only words, but _verbs_. And in stating this “fact” I supposed that I was but following Prof. Max Müller’s statement of it, where he constitutes it the philological basis of his theory on the “origin of roots”—viz. that all roots sprang from sounds made by “primitive social man” when engaged in their “social _acts_.” But, while accepting this fact, I objected to the theory raised upon it, because the latter did not consider that roots which originally had the force of verbs must have been more likely to have survived, and so to have come down to us, than those which may originally have had the significance of any other parts of speech. And it was only in order to supply this further consideration that I alluded to the “fact” at all.

* * * * *

We come next to some disparaging remarks upon “babies,” “parrots,” and the lower animals generally (_The Monist_, pp. 586-7). Prof. Max Müller “refuses to argue” with me, “or any other philosopher, either in the nursery or the menagerie.” So be it. As a philologist, of course, he is assuredly right; no one would expect him so to argue. But as a philosopher, who has written a large book on the “Science of Thought,” he is no less assuredly wrong. And one may be pardoned for wondering at this intentionally ostrich-like attitude on the part of a philosopher—who is “going beyond the origin of roots”—with respect to the fundamental germs of the sign-making faculty.

Again, my critic appears to imagine that I am a supporter of the onomatopoetic theory—to the extent of regarding _all_ human language as having originated in imitations of natural sounds. (_The Monist_, pp. 586-7.) But over and over again I have stated that this is not my view. I believe, indeed, that there is a very large amount of truth in this theory; but I deem it on all grounds most improbable that the principle of imitation has been the _only_ principle concerned in the origin of speech. I have argued that probably many other principles must have been concerned, including the “synergastic” principle suggested by Noiré, and enthusiastically adopted by my critic as alone sufficient to explain the whole problem of the origin of speech—and this although it is clearly but a particular branch of the general onomatopoetic theory. Hence, so far as I am concerned, it does not signify one iota whether any given root owed its origin to the principle of imitation, or to some other of the general principles which I believe to have been concerned in the birth of articulate language. And, if possible, still less does it signify whether or not in the development of any given word, such as “thunder,” the original root-sound has been afterwards imitatively modified, “from a feeling that it should be so.” These matters are no doubt of importance within the four corners of philology; but in relation to the “biological theory” of descent they present no importance at all.

Yet I am told:

“Those who cannot see the difference between a man, or for all
that, between a mocking-bird, saying _Cuckoo_, and a whole
community fixing on the sound of TAN, as differentiated by
various suffixes and prefixes, and expressing the concept
of stretching in such words as _tonos_, _tone_, _tonitru_,
_thunder_, _tanu_, _tenuis_, _thin_, should not meddle with the
Science of Language.” (_The Monist_, pp. 588-9.)

Doubtless. But as no word of this applies to me, I may be permitted to observe that if any one who has read my book can possibly suppose that it does, he should not meddle with the Science of Thought.

* * * * *

In conclusion, if it be the case that I have completely misapprehended Prof. Max Müller with regard to the points which he has mentioned,—and all of which I have now considered,—have I not furnished sufficient justification? Even now I cannot see in what respects it is possible to amend any subsequent edition of my book, so as to correct the misapprehensions which are alleged. But although my “mistakes” are thus far from “clear,” I am glad to have had this opportunity of publicly discussing them with Prof. Max Müller, if only for the sake of adding the following remarks.

Be it observed, in the first place, that whatever may be thought of the foregoing “justification,”—whether it be held that the misapprehensions are due to ambiguity on the one side or to obtuseness on the other,—at least it is certain that the misapprehensions complained of all have reference to points of no importance whatsoever as regards the general theory of descent, even although some of them are not altogether without importance as regards the particular science of philology. Thus it is quite immaterial, so far as the doctrine of _Mental Evolution_ is concerned, whether we say that the roots of Sanskrit are 800, philologically speaking, or 121, psychologically speaking. Again, as soon as it is explained by Prof. Max Müller that by his “121 original concepts” he means the number of concepts “original” only as regards the Sanskrit language; that by “primitive social man” he means only the semi-civilised progenitors of the Indo-European race; that by “every thought that ever crossed the mind of man” admitting of being “traced back to about 121 simple concepts,” he means no more than that such is the case as regards the recent and highly evolved Aryan branch of the human species;—when once all this is explained, it becomes evident that thus far there _can_ be no difference of opinion between us. For in that case he is not dealing with “the Origin of Human Faculty,” either in regard to language or to thought: he is considering merely the higher inflorescence of both. Once more, whether all, or nearly all, the roots of Sanskrit can properly be called _words_, and, if so, whether we must not go still further and call them _verbs_,—these are questions of mere terminology. If the roots were originally “used in conversation,” and if, as thus used, they were, with but few doubtful exceptions, all expressive of “acts” or “states,” it becomes mere verbal hair-splitting to challenge the propriety of saying that the roots were originally verbs. At all events, the matter has nothing to do with the general question of man’s derivative origin. Lastly, the same has to be said of the purely philological question as to how far the principle of imitation has obtained in the first formation of these archaic “words,” or “roots.” For, archaic though they be in a philological sense, in a phylological sense they are things of yesterday, and so can scarcely be said to have any direct relation at all to “the origin of speech,” or the rise of articulate sign-making. This has to be inferred from observations in the “menagerie,” as distinguished from research in the library; and the fact that Prof. Max Müller expressly refuses to give me the pleasure of his company where the best materials for studying the really “primitive” condition of the sign-making faculty are to be met with, merely renders more impossible than ever any real collision between his linguistic studies on the one side, and my “biological theory” on the other.

But although it thus appears sufficiently evident that my “misapprehensions” of his linguistic conclusions are as unimportant in relation to the theory of descent as they are few—and, I think, also excusable—in themselves, it is impossible to doubt that far below the level of Sanskrit roots, and far beyond the range of philological science, there is a wide difference of opinion between us. For when he passes from the “Science of Language” to the “Science of Thought,”—when he quits his sphere as a philologist to enter that of the philosopher,—he persistently and consistently affirms that what he calls “the old barrier between man and beast” remains, and that he is as yet unable to perceive how it can ever be removed. This barrier of course is predicative language—the obverse side of conceptional thought; and the firm opinion thus expressed by so eminent a philologist is not only of weight _per se_, but is rendered more so on account of the manifest freedom from prejudice with which it is associated. It is on this account that I devoted so much space in my book on “Mental Evolution” to a consideration of his views; and therefore I am sorry that his present reply has not been directed to meeting my criticisms on this really important matter of philosophical doctrine, rather than to indicating “misapprehensions” with regard to such merely trivial matters of a purely philological kind as those which I have here been dealing with. But perhaps at some future time he may give me the benefit of his criticism upon my work as a whole, or not merely on the fringes of such details as really have no bearing on the objects of that work.

And, if he should ever see his way to doing this, I am quite sure that the discussion would be one of a friendly character. For the points at issue would all have reference to that large and vague domain of speculative theory touching “the origin of human faculty,” where it is inevitable—and, in my judgment, even desirable—that wide differences of opinion should obtain. We are but at the commencement of a great and obscure problem, which only in our own generation has been presented by the science of biology to the contemplation of philosophy. Therefore it would be folly indeed if any man were to regard his own opinions upon it as other than provisional—and even more foolish if he were to introduce any “_meum_ and _tuum_ into these discussions.”

Thus I invite Prof. Max Müller to state the grounds of his assertion in _The Monist_, that “all the facts of real language are against” me as an advocate of what he calls the biological theory of the developmental origin of man. This theory, he says, “derives no support whatever from the Science of Language.” I believe, on the other hand, that these are wholly unwarranted statements; and that the Science of Language does support the theory in question to as high a degree as is possible from the nature of the case. On account of this great difference of opinion, I felt, when writing my book, that I should be doing but scant justice to the matured judgment of so eminent a philologist if I did not carefully consider all that he had written upon the subject. And so, as I have said, I devoted more of my book to a consideration of his views than to those of any other philologist; and while accepting his scientific facts on his authority as a philologist, I nevertheless felt it incumbent on me to show why his philosophical deductions, where they had reference to the theory of descent, appeared to me by no means of equivalent value. This distinction, as I observed at the commencement of the present article, is surely a legitimate distinction; and I should be sorry indeed if anything that I have ever said can appear inconsistent with the genuine admiration which is due to Prof. Max Müller as “a student of language,” or with the no less genuine esteem which I have the best reason for knowing is due to him as a friend.

GEORGE J. ROMANES.

THE CONTINUITY OF EVOLUTION.

THE SCIENCE OF LANGUAGE VERSUS THE SCIENCE OF LIFE, AS REPRESENTED BY PROF. F. MAX MÜLLER AND PROF. GEORGE JOHN ROMANES.