able doctrines of the past are in a fair way to recover their former prestige and influence. It is needless to say that we do not accept this view of the situation. In cosmic and in human affairs there is certainly a law of rhythm, as Mr. Spencer has so copiously proved in a celebrated chapter; but rhythm is one thing and reversal of a main movement is another. There will come times when men will in a measure tire of speculation, and seek rather to rest in a partial conclusion than to pursue further voyages of discovery into the unknown; and such a time may be expected after a period of active and rapid theoretical advance. At such a moment of lull it is not surprising if the Philistines of the intellectual world, who had been more or less in hiding while the forward movement was at its greatest intensity, should venture from their fastnesses and indulge in a few songs of triumph; but this need not disturb the serenity of the army of progress. In due time the order to march will be given, and then the Philistines—will keep out of the way.
Such, we think, is the situation at the present time. The third quarter of the century as a period of almost if not of quite unparalleled scientific activity. It gave birth to the most important work of Spencer, Darwin, and the rest of the evolutionist school. It brought important discoveries in chemistry and biology, and rendered a great deal of so-called orthodox opinion in many departments of knowledge forever obsolete. The impetus of this great movement lasted undiminished for several years longer, and, if it has now slackened in any degree, it is that the specific need of the present day is rather a careful survey and classification of the results already obtained than a further development of theory. We want to know just where we are before we start again. To say that no opinions which were held with a good deal of confidence ten or twenty years ago have undergone any modification would be foolish. That is not the way in which science advances; it advances through constant rectification of its observations and adjustments of its point of view. A change of opinion may involve loss, perhaps fatal loss, to a system of thought founded on authority, but it means no loss to science, whose vitality can never be impaired by additional knowledge. As Mr. Spencer has lately found occasion to say, there may be much difference of opinion as to how species originate, but this does not in the least invalidate the great law of evolution, which finds illustrations on every page of the book of Nature. The heritage of Darwin may be divided, but at least no part of it is in possession of an antiscientific or antinaturalistic school. All who to-day grapple with the question of the origin of species do so on a basis of purely scientific observation and reasoning; and even if the problem had to be given up as too obscure—and it is quite possible that we do not even yet know how obscure it is—it would still remain a problem of science, not a problem of theology or metaphysics.
One most important characteristic of science is that it can never really be idle. If it is not doing one thing, it is doing another; and its humbler work—or what seems so—may be not less useful, may indeed be more useful, than its more ambitious efforts. There is no department of natural knowledge that is not day by day receiving accretions which all go to better in some way the position of man upon the earth. It will do no harm if for a time there is less vague talk in regard to the theoretical conquests of science: but there need be no abatement of the
