99. That organized substance has the property of nourishing itself by assimilating from its internal medium substances there present in an unorganized state, and that this is followed by a development or differentiation of structure, is familiar to every inquirer.

Every one who has pursued embryological researches, and in a lesser degree every one who has merely read about them, must have been impressed by this marvel of marvels: an exceedingly minute portion of living matter, so simple in aspect that a line will define it, passes by successive modifications into an organism so complex that a treatise is needed to describe it; not only do the cells in which the ovum and the spermatozoon originate, pass into a complex organism, reproducing the forms and features of the parents, and with these the constitutional peculiarities of the parents (their longevity, their diseases, their mental dispositions, nay, their very tricks and habits), but they may reproduce the form and features, the dispositions and diseases, of a grandfather or great-grandfather, which had lain dormant in the father or mother. Consider for an instant what this implies. A microscopic cell of albuminous compounds, wholly without trace of organs, not appreciably distinguishable from millions of other cells, does nevertheless contain within it the “possibilities” of an organism so complex and so special as that of a Newton or a Napoleon. If ever there was a case when the famous Aristotelian notion of a “potential existence” seemed justified, assuredly it is this. And although we can only by a fallacy maintain the oak to be contained in the acorn, or the animal contained in the ovum, the fallacy is so natural, and indeed so difficult of escape, that there is no ground for surprise when physiologists, on first learning something of development, were found maintaining that the perfect organism existed already in the ovum, having all its lineaments in miniature, and only growing into visible dimensions through the successive stages of evolution.44 The preformation of the organism seemed an inevitable deduction from the opinions once universal. It led to many strange, and some absurd conclusions; among them, to the assertion that the original germ of every species contained within it all the countless individuals which in process of time might issue from it; and this in no metaphysical “potential” guise, but as actual boxed-up existences (emboÎtÉs); so that Adam and Eve were in the most literal sense progenitors of the whole human race, and contained their progeny already shaped within them, awaiting the great accoucheur, time.

100. This was the celebrated “emboÎtement” theory. In spite of obvious objections it gained scientific acceptance, because physiologists could not bring themselves to believe that so marvellous a structure as that of a human organism arose by a series of successive modifications, or because they could not comprehend how it was built up, part by part, into forms so closely resembling the parent-forms. That many and plausible reasons pleaded in favor of this opinion is evident in the fact that illustrious men like Haller, Bonnet, Vallisneri, Swammerdamm, RÉaumur, and Cuvier, were its advocates; and if there is not a sigle physiologist of our day who accepts it, or who finds any peculiar difficulty in following the demonstrations of embryologists, how from the common starting-point of a self-multiplying epithelial cell parts so diverse as hairs, nails, hoofs, scales, feathers, crystalline lens, and secreting glands may be evolved, or how from the homogeneous germinal membrane the complex organism will arise, there are very few among the scorners of the dead hypothesis who seem capable of generalizing the principles which have destroyed it, or can conceive that the laws of Evolution apply as rigorously to the animal and vegetable kingdoms as to the individual organisms. The illustrious names of those who advocated the preformation hypothesis may serve to check our servile submission to the authorities so loudly proclaimed as advocates of the fixity of species. The more because the two doctrines have a common parentage. The one falls with the other, and no array of authorities can arrest the fall. That the manifold differentiations noticeable in a complex organism should have been evolved from a membrane wholly destitute of differences is a marvel, but a marvel which Science has made intelligible. Yet the majority of those to whom this has been made intelligible still find an impossibility in admitting that the manifold forms of plant and animal were successively evolved from equally simple origins. They relinquish the hypothesis of preformation in the one case, and cling to it in the other. Evolution, demonstrable in the individual history, seems preposterous in the history of the class. And thus is presented the instructive spectacle of philosophers laughing at the absurdities of “preformation,” and yet exerting all their logic and rhetoric in defence of “creative fiats”—which is simply the preformation hypothesis “writ large.”

101. It would not be difficult to show that the doctrine of Epigenesis, with which Wolff forever displaced the doctrine of Preformation, leads by an inevitable logic to the doctrine of universal Evolution; and that we can no more understand the appearance of a new organism which is not the modification of some already existing organism, than we can understand the sudden appearance of a new organ which is not the modification of some existing structure. In the one case as in the other we may disguise the process under such terms as creative fiat and preformation; but these terms are no explanations; they re-state the results, they do not describe the process; whereas Epigenesis describes the process as it passes under the eye of science.

102. If any reader of these pages who, from theological or zoÖlogical suspicion of the Development Hypothesis, clings to the hypothesis of a creative Plan which once for all arranged the organic world in Types that could not change, will ask what rational interpretation can be given to the succession of phases each embryo is forced to pass through, it may help to give him pause. He will observe that none of these phases have any adaptation to the future state of the animal, but are in positive contradiction to it, or are simply purposeless; whereas all show stamped on them the unmistakable characters of ancestral adaptations and the progressions of Organic Evolution. What does the fact imply? There is not a single known example of a complex organism which is not developed out of simpler forms. Before it can attain the complex structure which distinguishes it, there must be an evolution of forms similar to those which distinguish the structures of organisms lower in the series. On the hypothesis of a Plan which prearranged the organic world, nothing could be more unworthy of a supreme intelligence than this inability to construct an organism at once, without previously making several tentative efforts, undoing to-day what was so carefully done yesterday, and repeating for centuries the same tentatives, and the same corrections, in the same succession. Do not let us blink this consideration. There is a traditional phrase much in vogue among the anthropomorphists, which arose naturally enough from the tendency to take human methods as an explanation of the divine—a phrase which becomes a sort of argument—“The Great Architect.” But if we are to admit the human point of view, a glance at the facts of embryology must produce very uncomfortable reflections. For what should we say to an architect who was unable, or being able was obstinately unwilling, to erect a palace except by first using his materials in the shape of a hut, then pulling it down and rebuilding them as a cottage, then adding story to story and room to room, not with any reference to the ultimate purposes of the palace, but wholly with reference to the way in which houses were constructed in ancient times? What should we say to the architect who could not form a museum out of bricks and mortar, but was forced to begin as if going to build a mansion: and after proceeding some way in this direction, altered his plan into a palace, and that again into a museum? Yet this is the sort of succession on which organisms are constructed. The fact has long been familiar; how has it been reconciled with Infinite Wisdom? Let the following passage answer for a thousand:—“The embryo is nothing like the miniature of the adult. For a long while the body in its entirety and its details presents the strangest of spectacles. Day by day and hour by hour the aspect of the scene changes, and this instability is exhibited by the most essential parts no less than by the accessory parts. One would say that Nature feels her way, and only reaches the goal after many times missing the path,—on dirait que la nature tÂtonne et ne conduit son oeuvre À bon fin qu’aprÈs s’Être souvent trompÉe.”45 Writers have no compunction in speaking of Nature feeling her way and blundering; but if in lieu of Nature, which may mean anything, the Great Architect be substituted, it is probable that the repugnance to using such language of evasion may cause men to revise their conceptions altogether; they dare not attribute ignorance and incompetence to the Creator.

103. Obviously the architectural hypothesis is incompetent to explain the phenomena of organic development. Evolution is the universal process; not creation of a direct kind. Von Baer, who very properly corrected the exaggerations which had been put forth respecting the identity of the embryonic forms with adult forms lower in the scale, who showed that the mammalian embryo never was a bird, a reptile, or a fish, nevertheless emphasized the fact that the mammalian embryo passes through all the lower typical forms; so much so that, except by their size, it is impossible to distinguish the embryos of mammal, bird, lizard, or snake. “In my collection,” he says, “there are two little embryos which I have omitted to label, so that I am now quite incompetent to say to what class they belong. They may be lizards, they may be small birds, or very young mammals; so complete is the similarity in the mode of formation of the head and trunk. The extremities have not yet made their appearance. But even if they existed in the earliest stage we should learn nothing from them, for the feet of lizards, mammals, and the wings of birds, all arise from the same common form.” He sums up with his formula: “The special type is always evolved from a more general type.”46 Such reminiscences of earlier forms are intelligible on the supposition that originally the later form was a modification of the earlier form, and that this modification is repeated; or on the supposition that there was a similarity in the organic conditions, which similarity ceased at the point where the new form emerged. But on no hypothesis of creative Plan are they intelligible. They are useless structures, failing even to subserve a temporary purpose. Sometimes, as Mr. Darwin remarks, a trace of the embryonic resemblance lasts till a late age: “Thus birds of the same genus, and of closely allied genera, often resemble each other in their first and second plumage: as we see in the spotted feathers in the thrush group. In the cat tribe most of the species are striped and spotted in lines; and stripes or spots can plainly be distinguished in the whelp of the lion and the puma. We occasionally, though rarely, see something of this kind in plants.... The points of structure in which the embryos of widely different animals of the same class resemble each other often have no direct relation to their conditions of existence. We cannot, for instance, suppose that in the embryos of the vertebrata the peculiar loop-like courses of the arteries near the bronchial slits are related to similar conditions in the young mammal which is nourished in the womb of its mother, in the egg of a bird which is hatched in a nest, and in the spawn of a frog under water.”

104. It would be easy to multiply examples, but I will content myself with three. The tadpole of the Salamander has gills, and passes his existence in the water; but the Salamandra atra, which lives high up among the mountains, brings forth its young full-formed. This animal never lives in the water. Yet if we open a gravid female, we find tadpoles inside her with exquisitely feathered gills, and (as I have witnessed) these tadpoles “when from the mother’s womb untimely ripped,” if placed in water, swim about like the tadpoles of water newts. Obviously this aquatic organization has no reference to the future life of the animal, nor has it any adaptation to its embryonic condition; it has solely reference to ancestral forms, it repeats a phase in the development of its progenitors. Again, in the embryo of the naked Nudibranch, we always observe a shell, although the animal is without a shell, and there can be no purpose served by the shell in embryonic life.47 Finally, the human embryo has a tail, which is of course utterly purposeless, and which, although to be explained as a result of organic laws, is on the creative hypothesis only explained as an adherence to the general plan of structure—a specimen of pedantic trifling “worthy of no intellect above the pongo’s.”48

105. Humanly appreciated, not only is it difficult to justify the successive stages of development, the incessant building up of structures immediately to be taken down, but also to explain why development was necessary at all. Why are not plants and animals formed at once, as Eve was mythically affirmed to be taken from Adam’s rib, and Minerva from Jupiter’s head? The theory of Evolution answers this question very simply; the theory of Creation can only answer it by affirming that such was the ordained plan. But the theory of Evolution not only gives the simpler and more intelligible answer to this question, it gives an answer to the further question which leaves the theory of Creation no loophole except a sophism—namely, why the formation of organisms is constantly being frustrated or perverted? And, further, it gives an explanation of the law noticed by Milne Edwards, that Nature is as economical in her means as she is prodigal in her variation of them: “On dirait qu’avant de recourir À des ressources nouvelles elle a voulu Épuiser, en quelque sorte, chacun des procÉdÉs qu’elle avait mis en jeu.”49 The applause bestowed on Nature for being economical is a curious transference to Nature of human necessities. Why, with a whole universe at her disposal, should Nature be economical? Why must she always be working in the same groove, and using but a few out of the many substances at her command? Economy is a virtue only in the poor. If Nature, in organic evolutions, is restricted to a very few substances, and a very few modes of combination, always creating new forms by modification of the old, and apparently incapable of creating an organism at once, this must imply an inherent necessity which is very unlike the free choice that can render economy a merit.

106. There may indeed be raised an objection to the Development Hypothesis on the ground that if the complex forms were all developed from the simpler forms, we ought to trace the identities through all their stages. If the fish developed into the reptile, the reptile into the bird, and the bird into the mammal (which I, for one, think questionable), we ought to find, it is urged, evidence of this passage. And at one time it was asserted that the evidence existed; but this has been disproved, and on the disproof the opponents of Evolution take their stand. Although I cannot feel much confidence in the idea of such a passage from Type to Type, and although the passage, if ever it occurred, must have occurred at so remote a period as to leave no evidence more positive than inference, I cannot but think the teaching of Embryology far more favorable to it than to our opponents. Supposing, for the sake of argument, that the passage did take place, ought we to find the embryonic stages accurately reproducing the permanent forms of lower types? Von Baer thinks we ought; and lesser men may follow him without reproach. But it seems to me that he starts from an inadmissible assumption, namely, that the development must necessarily be in a straight line rather than in a multiplicity of divergent lines. “When we find the embryonic condition,” he says, “differing from the adult, we ought to find a corresponding condition somewhere in the lower animals.”50 Not necessarily. We know that the mental development of a civilized man passes through the stages which the race passed through in the course of its long history, and the psychology of the child reproduces the psychology of the savage. But as this development takes place under conditions in many respects different, and as certain phases are hurried over, we do not expect to find a complete parallel. It is enough if we can trace general resemblances. Von Baer adds, “That certain correspondences should occur between the embryonic states of some animals and the adult states of others seems inevitable and of no significance(?). They could not fail, since the embryos lie within the animal sphere, and the variations of which the animal body is capable are determined for each type by the internal connection and mutual reaction of its organs, so that particular repetitions are inevitable.” A profound remark, to which I shall hereafter have occasion to return, but its bearing on the present question is inconclusive. The fact that the embryonic stages of the higher animals resemble in general characters the permanent stages of the lower animals, and very closely resemble the embryonic stages of those animals, is all that the Development Hypothesis requires. Nor is its value lessened by the fact that many of the details and intermediate stages seem passed over in the development of the higher forms, for the recapitulation can only be of outlines, not of details; since there are differences in the forms, there must be differences in their histories.

107. In the preceding observations the object has simply been to show that the phenomena to be explained can be rationally conceived as resulting from gradual Evolution, whereas they cannot be so rationally interpreted on any other hypothesis. And here it may be needful to say a word respecting Epigenesis.

The Preformation hypothesis, which regarded every organism as a simple educt and not the product of a germ, was called by its advocates an evolution hypothesis—meaning that the adult form was an outgrowth of the germ, the miniature magnified. Wolff, who replaced that conception by a truer one, called his, by contrast, Epigenesis, meaning that there was not simply out-growth but new growth. “The various parts,” he says, “arise one after the other, so that always one is secreted from (excernirt), or deposited (deponirt) on the other; and then it is either a free and independent part, or is only fixed to that which gave it existence, or else is contained within it. So that every part is the effect of a pre-existing part, and in turn the cause of a succeeding part.”51 The last sentence expresses the conception of Epigenesis which embryologists now adopt; and having said this, we may admit that Wolff, in combating the error of preformation, replacing it with the truer notion of gradual and successive formation, was occasionally open to the criticism made by Von Baer, that he missed the true sense of Evolution, since the new parts are not added on to the old parts as new formations, but evolved from them as transformations. “The word Evolution, therefore, seems to me more descriptive of the process than Epigenesis. It is true that the organism is not preformed, but the course of its development is precisely the course which its parents formerly passed through. Thus it is the Invisible—the course of development—which is predetermined.”52 When the word Epigenesis is used, therefore, the reader will understand it to signify that necessary succession which determines the existence of new forms. Just as the formation of chalk is not the indifferent product of any combination of its elements, carbon, oxygen, and calcium, but is the product of only one series of combinations, an evolution through necessary successions, the carbon uniting with oxygen to form carbonic acid, and this combining with the oxide of calcium to form chalk, so likewise the formation of a muscle, a bone, a limb, or a joint has its successive stages, each of which is necessary, none of which can be transposed. The formation of bone is peculiarly instructive, because the large proportion of inorganic matter in its substance, and seemingly deposited in the organic tissue, would lead one to suppose that it was almost an accidental formation, which might take place anywhere; yet although what is called connective tissue will ossify under certain conditions, true bone is the product of a very peculiar modification, which almost always needs to be preceded by cartilage. That the formation of bone has its special history may be seen in the fact that it is the last to appear in the animal series, many highly organized fishes being without it, and all the other systems appearing before it in the development of the embryo. Thus although the mother’s blood furnishes all the requisite material, the foetus is incapable of assimilating this material and of forming bone, until its own development has reached a certain stage. Moreover, when ossification does begin, it generally begins in the skull (in man in the clavicle); and the only approach to an internal skeleton in the Invertebrates is the so-called skull of the Cephalopoda. Not only is bone a late development, but cartilage is also; and although it is an error to maintain that the Invertebrates are wholly destitute of cartilage, its occasional presence having been fully proved by ClaparÈde and Gegenbaur, the rarity of its presence is very significant. The animals which can form shells of chalk and chitine are yet incapable of forming even an approach to bone.

108. Epigenesis depends on the laws of succession, which may be likened to the laws of crystallization, if we bear in mind the essential differences between a crystal and an organism, the latter retaining its individuality through an incessant molecular change, the former only by the exclusion of all change. When a crystalline solution takes shape, it will always take a definite shape, which represents what may be called the direction of its forces, the polarity of its constituent molecules. In like manner, when an organic plasmode takes shape—crystallizes, so to speak—it always assumes a specific shape dependent on the polarity of its molecules. Crystallographers have determined the several forms possible to crystals; histologists have recorded the several forms of Organites, Tissues, and Organs. Owing to the greater variety in elementary composition, there is in organic substance a more various polar distribution than in crystals; nevertheless, there are sharply defined limits never overstepped, and these constitute what may be called the specific forms of Organites, Tissues, Organs, Organisms. An epithelial cell, for example, may be ciliated or columnar, a muscle-fibre striated or non-striated, a nerve-fibre naked or enveloped in a sheath, but the kind is always sharply defined. An intestinal tube may be a uniform canal, or a canal differentiated into several unlike compartments, with several unlike glandular appendages. A spinal column may be a uniform solid axis, or a highly diversified segmented axis. A limb may be an arm, or a leg, a wing, or a paddle. In every case the anatomist recognizes a specific type. He assigns the uniformities to the uniformity of the substance thus variously shaped, under a history which has been similar; the diversities he assigns to the various conditions under which the processes of growth have been determined. He never expects a muscular tissue to develop into a skeleton, a nervous tissue into a gland, an osseous tissue into a sensory organ. He never expects a tail to become a hand or a foot, though he sees it in monkeys and marsupials serving the offices of prehension and locomotion. He never expects to find fingers growing anywhere except from metacarpal bones, or an arm developed from a skull. The well-known generalization of Geoffroy St. Hilaire that an organ is more easily annihilated than transposed, points to the fundamental law of Epigenesis. In the same direction point all the facts of growth. Out of a formless germinal membrane we see an immense variety of forms evolved; and out of a common nutritive fluid this variety of organs is sustained, repaired, replaced; and this not indifferently, not casually, but according to rigorous laws of succession; that which precedes determining that which succeeds as inevitably as youth precedes maturity, and maturity decay. The nourishment of various organs from plasmodes derived from a common fluid, each selecting from that fluid only those molecules that are like its own, rejecting all the rest, is very similar to the formation of various crystals in a solution of different salts, each salt separating from the solution only those molecules that are like itself. Reil long ago called attention to this analogy. He observed that if in a solution of nitre and sulphate of soda a crystal of nitre be dropped, all the dissolved nitre crystallizes, the sulphate remaining in solution; whereas on reversing the experiment, a crystal of sulphate of soda is found to crystallize all the dissolved sulphate, leaving the nitre undisturbed. In like manner muscle selects from the blood its own materials which are there in solution, rejecting those which the nerve will select.

109. Nay, so definite is the course of growth, that when a limb or part of a limb is cut off from a crab or salamander, a new limb or new part is reproduced in the old spot, exactly like the one removed. Bonnet startled the world by the announcement that the NaÏs, a worm common in ponds, spontaneously divided itself into two worms; and that when he cut it into several pieces, each piece reproduced head and tail, and grew into a perfect worm. This had been accepted by all naturalists without demur, until Dr. Williams, in his “Report on British Annelida, 1851,” declared it to be a fable. In 1858, under the impulse of Dr. Williams’s very emphatic denial, I repeated experiments similar to those of Bonnet, with similar results. I cut two worms in half, and threw away the head-bearing segments, placing the others in two separate vessels, with nothing but water and a little mud, which was first carefully inspected to see that no worm lay concealed therein. In a few days the heads were completely reformed, and I had the pleasure of watching them during their reconstruction. When the worms were quite perfect, I again cut away their heads, and again saw these reformed. This was repeated, till I had seen four heads reproduced; after which the worms succumbed.

110. The question naturally arises, Why does the nutritive fluid furnish only material which is formed into a part like the old one, instead of reproducing another part, or one having a somewhat different structure? The answer to this question is the key to the chief problem of organic life. That a limb in situ should replace its molecular waste by molecules derived from the blood, seems intelligible enough (because we are familiar with it), and may be likened to the formation of crystals in a solution; but how is it that the limb which is not in existence can assimilate materials from the blood? How is it that the blood, which elsewhere in the organism will form other parts, here will only form this particular part? There is, probably, no one who has turned his attention to these subjects who has not paused to consider this mystery. The most accredited answer at present before the world is one so metaphysiological that I should pass it by, were it not intimately allied with that conception of Species, which it is the object of these pages to root out. It is this:

111. The organism is determined by its Type, or, as the Germans say, its Idea. All its parts take shape according to this ruling plan; consequently, when any part is removed, it is reproduced according to the Idea of the whole of which it forms a part. Milne Edwards, in a very interesting and suggestive work, concludes his survey of organic phenomena in these words: “Dans l’organisme tout semble calculÉ en vue d’un rÉsultat dÉterminÉ, et l’harmonie des parties ne rÉsulte pas de l’influence qu’elles peuvent exercer les unes sur les autres, mais de leur co-ordination sous l’empire d’une puissance commune, d’un plan prÉconÇu, d’une force prÉ-existante.”53 This is eminently metaphysiological. It refuses to acknowledge the operation of immanent properties, refuses to admit that the harmony of a complex structure results from the mutual relations of its parts, and seeks outside the organism for some mysterious force, some plan, not otherwise specified, which regulates and shapes the parts. Von Baer, in his great work, has a section entitled, “The nature of the animal determines its development”; and he thus explains himself: “Although every stage in development is only made possible by the pre-existing condition [which is another mode of expressing Epigenesis], nevertheless the entire development is ruled and guided by the Nature of the animal which is about to be (von der gesammten Wesenheit des Thieres welches werden soll), and it is not the momentary condition which alone and absolutely determines the future, but more general and higher relations.”54 One must always be slow in rejecting the thoughts of a master, and feel sure that one sees the source of the error before regarding it as an error; but in the present case I think the positive biologist will be at no loss to assign Von Baer’s error to its metaphysical origin. Without pausing here to accumulate examples both of anomalies and slighter deviations which are demonstrably due to the “momentary conditions” that preceded them, let us simply note the logical inconsistency of a position which, while assuming that every separate stage in development is the necessary sequence of its predecessor, declares the whole of the stages independent of such relations! Such a position is indeed reconcilable on the assumption that animal forms are moulded “like clay in the hands of the potter.” But this is a theological dogma, which leads to very preposterous and impious conclusions; and whether it leads to these conclusions or to others, positive Biology declines theological explanations altogether. Von Baer, although he held the doctrine of Epigenesis, coupled it, as many others have done, with metaphysical doctrines to which it is radically opposed. He believed in Types as realities; he was therefore consistent in saying, “It is not the Matter and its arrangements which determine the product, but the nature of the parent form—the Idea, according to the new school.” How are we to understand this Idea? If it mean an independent Entity, an agency external to the organism, we refuse to acknowledge its existence. If it mean only an a posteriori abstraction expressing the totality of the conditions, then, indeed, we acknowledge that it determines the animal form; but this is only an abbreviated way of expressing the law of Evolution, by which each stage determines its successor. The Type does not dominate the conditions, it emerges from them; the animal organism is not cast in a mould, but the imaginary mould is the form which the polarities of the organic substance assume. It would seem very absurd to suppose that crystals assumed their definite shapes (when the liquid which held their molecules in solution is evaporated) under the determining impulse of phantom-crystals, or Ideas; yet it has not been thought absurd to assume phantom forms of organisms.

112. The conception of Type as a determining influence arises from that fallacy of taking a resultant for a principle, which has played so conspicuous a part in the history of philosophy. Like many others of its class it exhibits an interesting evolution from the crude metaphysical to the subtle metaphysical point of view, which at last insensibly blends into the positive point of view. At first the Type or Idea was regarded as an objective reality, external to the organism it was supposed to rule. Then this notion was replaced by an approach to the more rational interpretation, the idea was made an internal not an external force, and was incorporated with the material elements of the organism, which were said to “endeavor” to arrange themselves according to the Type. Thus Treviranus declares that the seed “dreams of the future flower”; and “Henle, when he affirms that hair and nails grow in virtue of the Idea, is forced to add that the parts endeavor to arrange themselves according to this Idea.”55 Even Lotze, who has argued so victoriously against the vitalists, and has made it clear that an organism is a vital mechanism, cannot relinquish this conception of legislative Ideas, though he significantly adds, “these have no power in themselves, but only in as far as they are grounded in mechanical conditions.” Why then superfluously add them to the conditions? If every part of a watch, in virtue of the properties inherent in its substance, and of the mutual reactions of these and other parts, has a mechanical value, and if the sum of all these parts is the time-indicating mechanism, do we add to our knowledge of the watch, and our means of repairing or improving it, by assuming that the parts have over and above their physical properties the metaphysical “tendency” or “desire” to arrange themselves into this specific form? When we see that an organism is constructed of various parts, each of which has its own properties inalienable from its structure, and its uses dependent on its relation to other parts, do we gain any larger insight by crediting these parts with desires or “dreams” of a future result which their union will effect? That which is true in this conception of legislative Ideas is that when the parts come together there is mutual reaction, and the resultant of the whole is something very unlike the mere addition of the items, just as water is very unlike oxygen or hydrogen; further, the connexus of the whole impresses a peculiar direction on the development of the parts, and the law of Epigenesis necessitates a serial development, which may easily be interpreted as due to a preordained plan.

113. In a word, this conception of Type only adds a new name to the old difficulty, adding mist to darkness. The law of Epigenesis, which is simply the expression of the material process determined by the polarity of molecules, explains as much of the phenomena as is explicable. A lost limb is replaced by the very processes, and through the same progressive stages as those which originally produced it. We have a demonstration of its not being reformed according to any Idea or Type which exists apart from the immanent properties of the organic molecules, in the fact that it is not reformed at once, but by gradual evolution; the mass of cells at the stump are cells of embryonic character, cells such as those which originally “crystallized” into muscles, nerves, vessels, and integument, and each cell passes through all its ordinary stages of development. It is to be remembered that so intimately dependent is the result on the determining conditions, that any external influence which disturbs the normal course of development will either produce an anomaly, or frustrate the formation of a new limb altogether. One of my tritons bit off the leg of his female;56 the leg which replaced it was much malformed, and curled over the back so as to be useless; was this according to the Idea? I cut it off, and examined it; all the bones were present, but the humerus was twisted, and of small size. In a few weeks a new leg was developed, and this leg was normal. If the Idea, as a ruling power, determined the growth of this third leg, what determined the second, which was malformed? Are we to suppose that in normal growth the Idea prevails, in abnormal the conditions? That it is the polarity of the molecules which at each moment determines the group those molecules will assume, is well seen in the experiment of Lavalle mentioned by Bronn.57 He showed that if when an octohedral crystal is forming, an angle be cut away, so as to produce an artificial surface, a similar surface is produced spontaneously on the corresponding angle, whereas all the other angles are sharply defined. “Valentin,” says Mr. Darwin, “injured the caudal extremity of an embryo, and three days afterwards it produced rudiments of a double pelvis, and of double hind limbs. Hunter and others have observed lizards with their tails reproduced and doubled. When Bonnet divided longitudinally the foot of the salamander, several additional digits were occasionally formed.”58 Where is the evidence of the Idea in these cases? 114. I repeat, the reproduction of lost limbs is due to a process which is in all essential respects the same as that which originally produced them; the genesis of one group of cells is the necessary condition for the genesis of its successor, nor can this order be transposed. But—and the point is very important—it is not every part that can be reproduced, nor is it every animal that has reproductive powers. The worm, or the mollusk, seems capable of reproducing every part; the crab will reproduce its claws, but not its head or tail; the perfect insect of the higher orders will reproduce no part (indeed the amputation of its antennae only is fatal), the salamander will reproduce its leg, the frog not. In human beings a muscle is said never to be reproduced; but this is not the case in the rare examples of supplementary fingers and toes, which have been known to grow again after amputation. The explanation of this difference in the reproductive powers of different animals is usually assigned to the degree in which their organisms retain the embryonic condition; and this explanation is made plausible by the fact that the animals which when adult have no power of replacing lost limbs, have the power when in the larval state. But although this may in some cases be the true explanation, there are many in which it fails, as will be acknowledged after a survey of the extremely various organisms at widely different parts of the animal series which possess the reproductive power. Even animals in the same class, and at the same stage of development, differ in this respect. I do not attach much importance to the fact that all my experiments on marine annelids failed to furnish evidence of their power of reproducing lost segments; because it is difficult to keep them under conditions similar to those in which they live. But it is significant that, among the hundreds which have passed under my observation, not one should have been found with a head-segment in the process of development, replacing one that had been destroyed; and this is all the more remarkable from the great tenacity of life which the mutilated segments manifest. Quatrefages had observed portions of a worm, after gangrene had destroyed its head and several segments, move about in the water and avoid the light!59

115. A final argument to show that the reproduction is not determined by any ruling Idea, but by the organic conditions and the necessary stages of evolution, is seen in the reappearance of a tumor or cancer after it has been removed. We find the new tissue appear with all the characters of the normal tissue of the gland, then rapidly assume one by one the characters of the diseased tissue which had been removed; and there as on is, that the regeneration of the tissue is accompanied by the same abnormal conditions which formerly gave rise to the tumor: the directions of “crystallization” are similar because the conditions are similar. In every case of growth or regrowth the conditions being the same, the result must be the same. 116. It seems a truism to insist that similarity in the results must be due to similarity in the conditions; yet it is one which many theorists disregard; and especially do we need to bear it in mind when arguing about Species. I will here only touch on the suggestive topic of the analogies observed not simply among animals at the extreme ends of the scale, but also between animals and plants where the idea of a direct kinship is out of the question.

My very imperfect zoÖlogical knowledge will not allow me to adduce a long array of instances, but such an array will assuredly occur to every well-stored mind. It is enough to point to the many analogies of Function, more especially in the reproductive processes—to the existence of burrowers, waders, flyers, swimmers in various classes—to the existence of predatory mammals, predatory birds, predatory reptiles, predatory insects by the side of herbivorous congeners,—to the nest-building and incubating fishes; and in the matter of Structure the analogies are even more illustrative when we consider the widely diffused spicula, setÆ, spines, hooks, tentacles, beaks, feathery forms, nettling-organs, poison-sacs, luminous organs, etc.; because these have the obvious impress of being due to a community of substance under similar conditions rather than to a community of kinship. The beak of the tadpole, the cephalopod, the male salmon, and the bird, are no doubt in many respects unlike; but there is a significant likeness among them, which constitutes a true analogy. I think there is such an analogy between the air-bladder of fishes and the tracheal rudiment which is found in the gnat-larva (Corethra plumicornis).60 Very remarkable also is the resemblance of the avicularium, or “bird’s-head process,” on the polyzoon known popularly as the Corkscrew Coralline (Bugula avicularia), which presents us in miniature with a vulture’s head—two mandibles, one fixed, the other moved by muscles visible within the head. No one can watch this organ snapping incessantly, without being reminded of a vulture, yet no one would suppose for a moment that the resemblance has anything to do with kinship.

117. Such cases are commonly robbed of their due significance by being dismissed as coincidences. But what determines the coincidence? If we assume, as we are justified in assuming, that the possible directions of Organic Combination, and the resultant forms, are limited, there must inevitably occur such coincident lines: the hooks on a Climbing Plant will resemble the hooks on a Crustacean or the claws of a Bird, as the one form in which under similar external forces the more solid but not massive portions of the integument tend to develop. I am too ill acquainted with the anatomy of plants to say how the hooks so common among them arise; but from examination of the Blackberry, and comparison of its thorns with the hooks and spines of the Crustacea, I am led to infer that in each case the mode of development is identical—namely, the secretion of chitine from the cellular matrix of the integument. Another mode of evading the real significance of such resemblances is to call them analogies, not homologies. There is an advantage in having two such terms, but we ought to be very clear as to their meaning and their point of separation. Analogy is used to designate similarity in Function with dissimilarity in Structure. The wing of an insect, the wing of a bird, and the wing of a bat are called analogous, but not homologous, because their anatomical structure is different: they are not constructed out of similar anatomical parts. The fore-leg of a mammal, the wing of a bird, or the paddle of a whale, are called homologous, because in spite of their diverse uses they are constructed out of corresponding anatomical parts. To the anatomist such distinctions are eminently serviceable. But they have led to some misconceptions, because they are connected with a profound misconception of the relation between Function and Organ. Embryology teaches that the wing of the bird and the paddle of the whale are developed out of corresponding parts, and that these are not like the parts from which the wing of an insect or the flying-fish will be developed; nevertheless, the most cursory inspection reveals that the wing of a bird and the paddle of a whale are very unlike in structure no less than in function, and that their diversities in function correspond with their diversities in structure; whereas the wing of the insect, of the bird, and of the bat, are in certain characters very similar, and correspondingly there are similarities in their function. It is, however, obvious that the resemblance in function is strictly limited to the resemblance in anatomical structure; only in loose ordinary speech can the flight of an insect, a bird, or a bat be said to be “the same”: it is different in each—the weight to be moved, the rapidity of the movement, the precision of the movements, and their endurance, all differ.

NATURAL SELECTION AND ORGANIC AFFINITY.

118. It is impossible to treat of Evolution without taking notice of that luminous hypothesis by which Mr. Darwin has revolutionized ZoÖlogy. There are two points needful to be clearly apprehended before the question is entered upon. The first point relates to the lax use of the phrase “conditions,” sometimes more instructively replaced by “conditions of existence.” Inasmuch as Life is only possible under definite relations of the organism and its medium, the “conditions of existence” will be those physical, chemical, and physiological changes, which in the organism, and out of it, co-operate to produce the result. There are myriads of changes in the external medium which have no corresponding changes in the organism, not being in any direct relation to it (see §54). These, not being co-operant conditions, must be left out of the account; they are not conditions of existence for the organism, and therefore the organism does not vary with their variations. On the other hand, what seem very slight changes in the medium are often responded to by important changes in the vital chemistry, and consequently in the structure of the organism. Now the nature of the organism at the time being, that is to say, its structure and the physico-chemical state of its tissues and plasmodes, is the main condition of this response; the same external agent will be powerful, or powerless, over slightly different organisms, or over the same organism at different times. Usually, and for convenience, when biologists speak of conditions, they only refer to external changes. This usage has been the source of no little confusion in discussing the Development Hypothesis. Mr. Darwin, however, while following the established usage, is careful in several places to declare that of the two factors in Variation—the nature of the organism and the nature of the conditions—the former is by far the more important.

118a. A still greater modification of terms must now be made. Instead of confining the “struggle for existence” to the competition of rivals and the antagonism of foes, we must extend it to the competition and antagonism of tissues and organs. The existence of an organism is not only dependent on the external existence of others, and is the outcome of a struggle; but also on the internal conditions which co-operate in the formation of its structure, this structure being the outcome of a struggle. The organism is this particular organism, differing from others, because of the particular conditions which have co-operated. The primary and fundamental struggle must be that of the organic forces at work in creating a structure capable of pushing its way amid external forces. The organism must find a footing in the world, before it can compete with rivals, and defend itself against foes. Owing to the power of reproduction, every organism has a potential indefiniteness of multiplication; that potential indefiniteness is, however, in reality restricted by the supply of food, and by the competition of rivals for that supply. The multiplication of any one species is thus kept down by the presence of rivals and foes: a balance is reached, which permits of the restricted quantities of various species. This balance is the result of a struggle.

Now let me call attention to a similar process in the formation of the organism itself. Every organite, and every tissue, has a potential growth of indefinite extent, but its real growth is rigorously limited by the competition and antagonism of the others, each of which has its potential indefiniteness, and its real limits. Something, in the food assimilated, slightly alters the part which assimilates it. This change may be the origin of other changes in the part itself, or in neighboring parts, stimulating or arresting the vital processes. A modification of structure results. Or there may be no new substance assimilated, but external forces may call a part into increased activity—which means increased waste and repair; and this increase here is the cause of a corresponding decrease somewhere else. Whatever the nature of the change, it finds its place amid a complex of changes, and its results are compounded with theirs. When organites and tissues are said to have a potential indefiniteness of growth, there is assumed a potential indefiniteness in the pabulum supplied: if the pabulum were supplied, and if there were no antagonism thwarting its assimilation, growth would of course continue without pause, or end; but in reality this cannot be so. For, take the blood as the vehicle of the pabulum—not only is its quantity limited, and partly limited by the very action of the tissues it feeds, but even in any given quantity there is a limit to its composition—it will only take up a limited quantity of salts, iron, albumen, etc.; no matter how abundant these may be in the food. So again with the plasmodes of the various tissues—they have each their definite capacities of assimilation. What has already been stated respecting chemical affinity (§20) is equally applicable to organic affinity; as the presence of fused iron in the crucible partially obstructs the combination of sulphur and lead, so the presence of connective tissue partially obstructs the combination of muscle protoplasm with its pabulum.

118 b. Owing to the action and reaction of blood and plasmode, of tissues on tissues, and organs on organs, and their mutual limitations, the growth of each organism has a limit, and the growth of each organ has a limit. Beyond this limit, no extra supply of food will increase the size of the organism; no increase of activity will increase the organ. “Man cannot add a cubit to his stature.” The blacksmith’s arm will not grow larger by twenty years of daily exercise, after it has once attained a certain size. Increase of activity caused it to enlarge up to this limit; but no increase of activity will cause it to pass this limit. Why? Because here a balance of the co-operating formative forces has been reached. Larger muscles, or more muscle-fibres, demand arteries of larger calibre, and these a heart of larger size; with the increase of muscle would come increase of connective tissue; and this tissue would not only compete with the muscle for pabulum, but by mechanical pressure would diminish the flow of that pabulum. And why would connective tissue increase? Because, in the first place, there is a formative association between the two, so that owing to a law, not yet understood, the one always accompanies the other; and, in the second place, there is a functional association between the two, a muscle-fibre being inoperative unless it be attached to a tendon, or connective tissue; it will contract out of the body although separated from its tendon or other attachment; but in the body its contraction would be useless without this attachment. We must bear in mind that muscle-fibres are very much shorter than ordinary muscles; according to the measurements of W. Krause they never exceed 4 cm in length, and usually range between 2 and 3 cm; their fine points being fixed to the interstitial connective tissue, as the whole muscle is fixed to its tendon. The function of the muscle is thus dependent on a due balance of its component tissues; if that balance is disturbed the function is disturbed. Should, from any cause, an excess of muscle-fibre arise, the balance would be disturbed; should an encroachment of connective tissue, or of fat, take place, there would be also a defect of function.

Here we have the co-operation and limitation of the tissues illustrated; let us extend our glance, and we shall see how the co-operation and limitation of the organs come into play, so that the resulting function depends on the balance of their forces. The contractile power of each individual muscle is always limited by the resistance of antagonists, which prevent the muscle being contracted more than about a third of its possible extent, i.e. possible when there are no resistances to be overcome. Not only the increasing tension of antagonist muscles, but the resistance of tendons, bones, and softer parts must be taken into account. Thus, the increase of the blacksmith’s muscular power would involve a considerable increase in all the tissues of the arm; but such an increase would involve a reconstruction of his whole organism.

Whenever there is an encroachment of one tissue on another, there is a disturbance of the normal balance, which readily passes into a pathological state. If the brain is overrun with connective tissue, or the heart with fatty tissue, we know the consequences. If connective tissue is deficient, epithelial runs to excess, no longer limited by its normal antagonist, and pus, or cancer, result.

118c. It is unnecessary here to enlarge on this point. I have adduced it to show that we must extend our conception of the struggle for existence beyond that of the competition and antagonism of organisms—the external struggle; and include under it the competition and antagonism of tissues and organs—the internal struggle. Variability is inherent in organic substances, as the result of their indefiniteness of composition (§45b). This variability is indefinite, and is rendered definite by the competition and antagonism, so that every particular variation is the resultant of a composition of forces. The forces in operation are the internal and external conditions of existence—i.e. the nature of the organism, and its response to the actions of its medium. A change may take place in the medium without a corresponding response from the organism; or the change may find a response and the organism become modified. Every modification is a selection, determined by laws of growth; it is the resultant of a struggle between what, for want of a better term, may be called the organic affinities—which represent in organized substances what chemical affinities are in the anorganized. Just as an organism which has been modified and thereby gained a superiority over others, has by this modification been selected for survival—the selection being only another aspect of this modification—so one tissue, or one organ, which has surpassed another in the struggle of growth, will thereby have become selected. Natural Selection, or survival of the fittest, therefore, is simply the metaphorical expression of the fact that any balance of the forces which is best adapted for survival will survive. Unless we interpret it as a shorthand expression of all the internal and external conditions of existence, it is not acceptable as the origin of species.

118d. Mr. Darwin has so patiently and profoundly meditated on the whole subject, that we must be very slow in presuming him to have overlooked any important point. I know that he has not altogether overlooked this which we are now considering; but he is so preoccupied with the tracing out of his splendid discovery in all its bearings, that he has thrown the emphasis mainly on the external struggle, neglecting the internal struggle; and has thus in many passages employed language which implies a radical distinction where—as I conceive—no such distinction can be recognized. “Natural Selection,” he says, “depends on the survival under various and complex circumstances of the best-fitted individuals, but has no relation whatever to the primary cause of any modification of structure.”61 On this we may remark, first, that selection does not depend on the survival, but is that survival; secondly, that the best-fitted individual survives because of that modification of its structure which has given it the superiority; therefore if the primary cause of this modification is not due to selection, then selection cannot be the cause of species. He separates Natural Selection from all the primary causes of variation, either internal or external—either as results of the laws of growth, of the correlations of variation, of use and disuse, etc., and limits it to the slow accumulations of such variations as are profitable in the struggle with competitors. And for his purpose this separation is necessary. But biological philosophy must, I think, regard the distinction as artificial, referring only to one of the great factors in the production of species. And for this reason: Selection only comes into existence in the modifications produced either by external or internal changes; and the selected change cannot be developed further by mere inheritance, unless the successive progeny have such a disposition of the organic affinities as will repeat the primary change. Inherited superiority will not by mere transmission become greater. The facts which are relied on in support of the idea of “fixity of species” show at any rate that a given superiority will remain stationary for thousands of years; and no one supposes that the progeny of an organism will vary unless some external or internal cause of variation accompanies the inheritance. Mr. Darwin agrees with Mr. Spencer in admitting the difficulty of distinguishing between the effects of some definite action of external conditions, and the accumulation through natural selection of inherited variations serviceable to the organism. But even in cases where the distinction could be clearly established, I think we should only see an historical distinction, that is to say, one between effects produced by particular causes now in operation, and effects produced by very complex and obscure causes in operation during ancestral development.

118e. The reader will understand that my criticism does not pretend to invalidate Mr. Darwin’s discovery, but rather to enlarge its terms, so as to make it include all the biological conditions, and thus explain many of the variations which Natural Selection—in the restricted acceptation—leaves out of account. Mr. Darwin draws a broad line of distinction between Variation and Selection, regarding only those variations that are favorable as selected. I conceive that all variations which survive are by that fact of survival, selections, whether favorable or indifferent. A variety is a species in formation; now Selection itself is not a cause, or condition, of variation, it is the expression of variation. Mr. Darwin is at times explicit enough on this head: “It may metaphorically be said that Natural Selection is daily and hourly scrutinizing throughout the world the slightest variations; rejecting those that are bad, preserving and adding up all that are good; silently and insensibly working, whenever and wherever opportunity offers, at the improvement of each organic being in relation to its organic and inorganic conditions of life.”62 But the metaphorical nature of the term is not always borne in mind, so that elsewhere Natural Selection is said to “act on and modify organic beings,” as if it were a positive condition and not the expression of the modifying processes. Because grouse are largely destroyed by birds of prey, any change in their color which would render them less conspicuous would enable more birds to escape; but it is obvious that this change of color will be due to Organic Affinity; and only when the change is effected will there have been that selection which expresses it. Mr. Darwin’s language, however, is misleading. He says: “Hence Natural Selection might be most effective in giving the proper color to each kind of grouse, and in keeping that color when once acquired.” This is to make Selection an agent, a condition of the development of color; which may be accepted if we extend the term so as to include the organic changes themselves. Again: “Some writers have imagined that Natural Selection induces variability, whereas it only implies the preservation of such variations as are beneficial to the being under its conditions of life.” It, however, is made to imply more than this, namely, the accumulation and further modification of such variations. “The mere existence of individual variability and of some well-marked varieties, though necessary as the foundation, helps us but little in understanding how species arise in nature. How have all those exquisite adaptations of one part of the organization to another part, and to the conditions of life, and of one organic being to another being, been perfected?” My answer to this question would be: By Organic Affinity, and the resulting struggle of the tissues and organs, the consequences of which are that very adaptation of the organism to external conditions, which is expressed as the selection of the structures best adapted. The selections are the results of the struggle, according to my proposed extension of the term “struggle.” Mr. Darwin defines the struggle: “The dependence of one being on another, and including (what is more important) not only the life of the individual but success in leaving progeny.” This definition seems defective, since it omits the primary and more important struggle which takes place between the organic affinities in operation. To succeed in the struggle with competitors, the organism must have first acquired—by selection—a superiority in one or more of its organs.

118f. A little reflection will disclose the importance of keeping our eyes fixed on the internal causes of variation, as well as on the external conditions of the struggle. Mr. Darwin seems to imply that the external conditions which cause a variation are to be distinguished from the conditions which accumulate and perfect such variation, that is to say, he implies a radical difference between the process of variation and the process of selection. This, I have already said, does not seem to me acceptable; the selection, I conceive, to be simply the variation which has survived.63

If it be true that a Variety is an incipient Species and shows us Species in formation, it is in the same sense true that a variation is an incipient organ. A species is the result of a slowly accumulating divergence of structure; an organ is the result of a slowly accumulating differentiation. At each stage of differentiation there has been a selection, but we cannot by any means say that this selection was determined by the fact of its giving the organism a superiority over rivals, inasmuch as during all the early stages, while the organ was still in formation, there could be no advantage accruing from it. One animal having teeth and claws developed will have a decided superiority in the struggle over another animal that has no teeth and claws; but so long as the teeth and claws are in an undeveloped state of mere preparation they confer no superiority.

118g. Natural Selection is only the expression of the results of obscure physiological processes; and for a satisfactory theory of such results we must understand the nature of the processes. In other words, to understand Natural Selection we must recognize not only the facts thus expressed, but the factors of these facts,—we must analyze the “conditions of existence.” As a preliminary analysis we find external conditions, among which are included not only the dependence of the organism on the inorganic medium, but also the dependence of one organism on another,—the competition and antagonism of the whole organic world; and internal conditions, among which are included not only the dependence of the organism on the laws of composition and decomposition whereby each organite and each tissue is formed, but also the dependence of one organite and one tissue on all the others—the competition and antagonism of all the elements.

The changes wrought in an organism by these two kinds of conditions determine Varieties and Species. Although many of the changes are due to the process of natural selection brought about in the struggle with competitors and foes, many other changes have no such relation to the external struggle, but are simply the results of the organic affinities. They may or they may not give the organism a greater stability, or a greater advantage over rivals; it is enough that they are no disadvantage to the organism, they will then survive by virtue of the forces which produced them.

119. The position thus reached will be important in our examination of the Theory of Descent by which Mr. Darwin tentatively, and his followers boldly, explain the observed resemblances in structure and function as due to blood-relationship. The doctrine of Evolution affirms that all complex organisms are evolved by differentiation from simpler organisms, as we see the complex organ evolved from simpler forms. But it does not necessarily affirm that the vast variety of organisms had one starting-point—one ancestor; on the contrary, I conceive that the principles of Evolution are adverse to such a view, and insist rather on the necessity of innumerable starting-points. Let us consider the question.

That the Theory of Descent explains many of the facts must be admitted; but there are many which it leaves obscure; and Mr. Darwin, with that noble calmness which distinguishes him, admits the numerous difficulties. Whether these will hereafter be cleared away by an improvement in the Geological Record, now confessedly imperfect, or by more exhaustive exploration of distant countries, none can say; but, to my mind, the probability is, that we shall have to seek our explanation by enlarging the idea of Natural Selection, subordinating it to the laws of Organic Affinity. It does not seem to me, at present, warrantable to assume Descent as the sole principle of morphological uniformities; there are other grounds of resemblance beyond those of blood-relationship; and these have been too much overlooked; yet a brief consideration will disclose that similarity in the physiological laws and the conditions of Organic Affinity must produce similarity in organisms, independently of relationship; just as similarity in the laws and conditions of inorganic affinity will produce identity in chemical species. We do not suppose the carbonates and phosphates found in various parts of the globe, or the families of alkaloids and salts, to have any nearer kinship than that which consists in the similarity of their elements and the conditions of their combination. Hence, in organisms, as in salts, morphological identity may be due to a community of conditions, rather than community of descent. Mr. Darwin justly holds it to be “incredible that individuals identically the same should have been produced through Natural Selection from parents specifically distinct,” but he, since he admits analogous variations, will not deny that identical forms might issue from parents having widely different origins, provided that these parent forms and the conditions of their reproduction were identical, as in the case of vegetable and animal resemblances. To deny this would be to deny the law of causation. And that which is true of identical forms under identical conditions is true of similar forms under similar conditions. When History and Ethnology reveal a striking uniformity in the progression of social phases, we do not thence conclude that the nations are directly related, or that the social forms have a common parentage; we conclude that the social phases are alike because they have had common causes. When chemists point out the uniformity of type which exists in compounds so diverse in many of their properties as water and sulphuretted or selenetted hydrogen, and when they declare phosphoretted hydrogen to be the congener of ammonia, they do not mean that the one is descended from the other, or that any closer link connects them than that of resemblance in their elements.

In the case of vegetal and animal organisms, we observe such a community of elementary substance as of itself to imply a community in their laws of combination; and under similar conditions the evolved forms must be similar. With this community of elementary substance, there are also diversities of substance and of co-operant conditions; corresponding with these diversities there must be differences of form. Thus, although observation reveals that the bond of kinship does really unite many widely divergent forms, and the principle of Descent with Natural Selection will account for many of the resemblances and differences, there is at present no warrant for assuming that all resemblances and differences are due to this one cause, but, on the contrary, we are justified in assuming a deeper principle which may be thus formulated: All the complex organisms are evolved from organisms less complex, as these were evolved from simpler forms; the link which unites all organisms is not always the common bond of heritage, but the uniformity of organized substance acting under similar conditions.

It is therefore consistent with the hypothesis of Evolution to admit a variety of origins or starting-points, though not consistent to admit the sudden appearance of complex Types, such as is implied in the hypothesis of specific creations.

119 a. The analogies of organic forms and functions demand a more exhaustive scrutiny than has yet been given them. Why is it that vessels, nerves, and bones ramify like branches, and why do these branches take on the aspect of many crystalline forms? Why is it that cavities are constantly prolonged in ducts, e.g. the mouth succeeded by the oesophagus, the stomach by the intestines, the bladder by the urethra, the heart by the aorta, the ovary by the oviduct, and so on? Why are there never more than four limbs attached to a vertebral column, and these always attached to particular vertebrÆ? Why is there a tendency in certain tissues to form tubes, and in these tubes commonly to assume a muscular coat?64 To some of these queries an answer might be suggested which would bring them under known physical laws. I merely notice them here for the sake of emphasizing the fact that such analogies lie deeply imbedded in the laws of evolution, and that what has been metaphorically called organic crystallization will account for many similarities in form, without forcing us to have recourse to kinship. To take a very simple case. No one will maintain that the crystalline forms of snow have any kinship with the plants which they often resemble. Mr. Spencer has noticed the development of a wing-bearing branch from a wing of the Ptilota plumosa, when its nutrition is in excess. “This form, so strikingly like that of the feathery crystallizations of many inorganic substances, proves to us that in such crystallizations the simplicity or complexity of structure at any place depends on the quantity of matter that has to be polarized at that place in a given time. How the element of time modifies the result, is shown by the familiar fact that crystals rapidly formed are small, and that they become larger when they are formed more slowly.”65

It may be objected, and justly, that in the resemblance between crystals and organisms the analogy is purely that of form, and usually confined to one element, whereas between organisms there is resemblance of substance no less than of form, and usually the organisms are alike in several respects. The answer to this objection is, that wherever there is a similarity in the causal conditions (substance and history) there must be a corresponding similarity in the results; if this similarity extends to only a few of the conditions, the analogy will be slight; if to several, deep. But whether slight or deep we are not justified, simply on the ground of resemblance, in assuming, short of evidence, that because they are alike, two organisms are related by descent from a common ancestor.

120. Let us glance at a few illustrations. It has been urged as a serious objection to Mr. Darwin’s hypothesis,66 that it fails to explain the existence of phosphorescent organs in a few insects; and certainly, when one considers the widely different orders in which these organs appear, and their absence in nearly related forms, it is a difficulty. In noctilucÆ, earthworms, molluscs, scolopendra, and fireflies, we may easily suppose the presence of similar organic conditions producing the luminosity; but it requires a strong faith to assign Descent as the cause.67 We may say the same of the electric organs possessed by seven species of fish, belonging to five widely separated genera. Although each species appears to have a limited geographical range, one or the other is found in almost every part of the globe. These organs occupy different positions, being now on each side of the head, now along the body, and now along the tail; and in different species they are innervated from different sources. Their intimate structure also varies; as appears from the remarkable investigations of Max Schultze.68 They cannot, therefore, be homologous. How could they have arisen? Not by the slow accumulations of Natural Selection, because, until the organs were fully formed, they could be of no advantage in the struggle; hence the slow growth of the organ must have proceeded without the aid of an advantage in the struggle—in each case from some analogous conditions which produced a differentiation in certain muscles. The fundamental resemblance to muscles was pointed out by Carus long ago. It has been insisted on by Leydig:69 and Owen says, “The row of compressed cells constituting the electric prism of the Torpedo offers some analogy to the row of microscopic discs of which the elementary muscle fibre appears to consist.”70 We must not, however, forget that these resemblances are merely such as suggest that the electric organ is a differentiation of the substance which elsewhere becomes muscular, and that Dr. Davy was justified in denying the organ to be muscular.71 That it is substituted for muscle cannot be doubted. Now, although we are entirely ignorant of the conditions which cause this differentiation of substance which elsewhere becomes muscular, but here becomes electric organs, we can understand that, when once such a development had taken place, if it in any way profited the fish in its struggle for existence, Natural Selection would tend to its further increase and propagation. So far Mr. Darwin carries us with him; but we decline proceeding further. The development of these organs in fishes so widely removed, does not imply an ancestral community. It is interpretable as mere growth on a basis once laid; and therefore would occur with or without any advantage in the struggle with rivals. The similarity in concurrent conditions is quite enough to account for the resemblance in structure. This, with his accustomed candor, Mr. Darwin admits. “If the electric organs,” he says, “had been inherited from one ancient progenitor thus provided, we might have expected that all electric fishes would be specially related to each other. Nor does Geology at all lead to the belief that formerly most fishes had electric organs which most of their modified descendants have lost.”

121. It may seem strange that he should urge a difficulty against his hypothesis when it could be avoided by the simple admission that even among nearly allied animals great differences in development are observable, and the electric organs might be ranged under such diversities. But Mr. Darwin has so thoroughly wrought out his scheme, that he foresees most objections, and rightly suspects that if this principle of divergent development be admitted, it will cut the ground from under a vast array of facts which his hypothesis of Descent requires.

The sudden appearance of new organs, not a trace of which is discernible in the embryo or adult form of organisms lower in the scale,—for instance, the phosphorescent and electric organs,—is like the sudden appearance of new instruments in the social organism, such as the printing-press and the railway, wholly inexplicable on the theory of Descent,72 but is explicable on the theory of Organic Affinity. For observe: if we admit that differentiations of structure, and the sudden appearance of organs, can have arisen spontaneously—i.e. not hereditarily—as the outcome of certain changed physical conditions, we can hardly refuse to extend to the whole organism what we admit of a particular organ. If, again, we admit that organs very similar in structure and function spontaneously appear in organisms of widely different kinds—e.g. the phosphorescent and electric organs—we must also admit that similar resemblances may present themselves in organisms having a widely different parentage; and thus the admission of the spontaneous evolution of closely resembling organs carries with it the admission of the spontaneous evolution of closely resembling organisms: that the protoplasm of muscular tissue should, under certain changed conditions, develop into the tissue of electric organs, is but one case of the law that organized substance will develop into organisms closely resembling each other when the conditions have been similar.

122. It is to be remarked that Mr. Darwin fixes his attention somewhat too exclusively on the adaptations which arise during the external struggle for existence, and to that extent neglects the laws of organic affinity; just as Lamarck too exclusively fixed his attention on the influence of external conditions and of wants. Not that Mr. Darwin can be said to overlook the organic laws; he simply underestimates the part they play. Occasionally he seems arrested by them, as when instancing the “trailing palm in the Malay Archipelago, which climbs the loftiest trees by the aid of exquisitely constructed hooks, clustered around the ends of the branches, and this contrivance no doubt is of the highest service to the plant; but as there are nearly similar hooks on many trees which are not climbers, the hooks on the palm may have arisen from unknown laws of growth, and have been subsequently taken advantage of by the plant undergoing further modification and becoming a climber.”

123. I come round to the position from which I started, that the resemblances traceable among animals are no proof of kinship; even a resemblance so close as to defy discrimination would not, in itself, be such a proof. The absolute identity of chalk in Australia and in Europe is a proof that there was absolute identity in the formative conditions and the constituent elements, but no proof whatever that the two substances were originally connected by genesis. In like manner the similarity of a plant or animal in Africa and Europe may be due to a common kinship, but it may also be due to a common history. It is indeed barely conceivable that the history, from first to last, would ever be so rigorously identical in two parts of the globe as to produce complex identical forms in both; because any diversity, either in structure or external conditions, may be the starting-point of a wide diversity in subsequent development; and the case of organic combinations is so far unlike the inorganic, that while only one form is possible to the latter (chalk is either formed or not formed), many forms are possible to organic elements owing to the complexity and indefiniteness of organic composition. But although forms so allied as those of Species are not readily assignable to an identical history in different quarters of the globe, it is not only conceivable, but is eminently probable, that Orders and Classes have no nearer link of relationship than is implied in their community of organized substance and their common history. The fact that there is not a single mammal common to Europe and Australia is explicable, as Mr. Darwin explains it, on the ground that migration has been impossible to them; but it is also explicable on the laws of Evolution—to have had mammals of the same species and genera would imply a minute coincidence in their history, which is against the probabilities. Again, in the Oceanic Islands there are no Batrachians; but there are Reptiles, and these conform to the reptilian type. Mr. Darwin suggests that the absence of Batrachia is due to the impossibility of migration, their ova being destroyed by salt water. But may it not be due to the divergence from the reptilian type, which was effected elsewhere, not having taken place in these regions? When we find the metal Tin in Prussia and Cornwall, and nowhere else in Europe, must we not conclude that in these two countries, and nowhere else, a peculiar conjunction of conditions caused this peculiar evolution?

124. The question at issue is, Are the resemblances observable among organic forms due to remote kinship, and their diversities to the divergences caused by adaptation to new conditions? or are the resemblances due to similarities, and the diversities to dissimilarities in the substance and history of organic beings? Are we to assume one starting-point and one centre of creation, or many similar starting-points at many centres? So far from believing that all plants and animals had their origin in one primordial cell, at one particular spot, from which descendants migrated and became diversified under the diverse conditions of their migration, it seems to me more consistent with the principle of Evolution to admit a vast variety of origins more or less resembling each other; and this initial resemblance will account for the similarities still traceable under the various forms; while the early differences, becoming intensified by development under different conditions, will yield the diversities. The evolution of organisms, like the evolution of crystals, or the evolution of islands and continents, is determined, 1st, by laws inherent in the substances evolved, and, 2d, by relations to the medium in which the evolution takes place. This being so, we may À priori affirm that the resultant forms will have a community strictly corresponding with the resemblance of the substances and their conditions of evolution, together with a diversity corresponding with their differences in substance and conditions. It is usually supposed that the admission of separate “centres of creation” is tantamount to an admission of “successive creations” as interpreted by the majority of those who invoke “creative fiats.” But the doctrine of Evolution, which regards Life as making its appearance consequent upon a concurrence of definite conditions, and regards the specific forms of Life as the necessary consequences of special circumstances, must also accept the probability of similar conditions occurring at different times and in different places. Upon what grounds, cosmical or biological, are we to assume that on only one microscopic spot of this developing planet such a group of conditions was found—on only one spot a particle of protein substance was formed out of the abundant elements, and under conditions which caused it to grow and multiply, till in time its descendants overran the globe? The hypothesis that all organic forms are the descendants of a single germ, or of even a few germs, and are therefore united by links of kinship more or less remote, is not more acceptable than the hypothesis that all the carbonates and phosphates, all the crystals, and all the strata found in different parts of the globe, are the descendants of a single molecule, or a few molecules; or,—since this may seem too extravagant,—than that the various maladies which afflict organic beings are, in a literal sense, members of families having a nearer relationship than that of being the phenomena manifested by similar organs under similar conditions—a conception which might have been accepted by those metaphysical pathologists who regarded Disease as an entity. Few philosophers have any hesitation in supposing that other planets besides our own are peopled with organic forms, though, from the great differences in the conditions, these forms must be extremely unlike those of our own planet. If separate worlds, why not separate centres? The conclusion seems inevitable that wherever and whenever the state of things permitted that peculiar combination of elements known as organized substance, there and then a centre was established—Life had a root. From roots closely resembling each other in all essential characters, but all more or less different, there have been developed the various stems of the great tree. Myriads of roots have probably perished without issue; myriads have developed into forms so ill-adapted to sustain the fluctuations of the medium, so ill-fitted for the struggle of existence, that they became extinct before even our organic record begins; myriads have become extinct since then; and the descendants of those which now survive are like the shattered regiments and companies after some terrific battle.

125. There seems to me only one alternative logically permissible to the Evolution Hypothesis, namely, that all organic forms have had either a single origin, or else numerous origins; in other words, that a primordial cell was the starting-point from which all organisms have been successively developed; or that the development issued from many independent starting-points, more or less varied. This is apparently not the aspect presented by the hypothesis to many of its advocates; they seem to consider that if all organic forms are not the lineal descendants of one progenitor, they must at any rate be the descendants of not more than four or five. The common belief inclines to one. Mr. Darwin, whose caution is as remarkable as his courage, and whose candor is delightful, hesitates as to which conclusion should be adopted: “I cannot doubt,” he says, “that the theory of descent, with modifications, embraces all the members of the same class. I believe that animals have descended from, at most, only four or five progenitors, and plants from an equal or lesser number. Analogy would lead me one step further, namely, to the belief that all animals and plants have descended from some one prototype. But analogy may be a deceitful guide.”

126. I cannot see the evidence which would warrant the belief that Life originated solely in one microscopic lump of protoplasm on one single point of our earth’s surface; on the contrary, it is more probable that from innumerable and separate points of this teeming earth, myriads of protoplast sprang into existence, whenever and wherever the conditions of the formation of organized substance were present. It is probable that this has been incessantly going on, and that every day new protoplasts appear, struggle for existence, and serve as food for more highly organized rivals; but whether an evolution of the lower forms is, or is not, still going on, there can be no reluctance on the part of every believer in Evolution to admit that when organized substance was first evolved, it was evolved at many points. If this be so, the community observable in organized substance, wherever found, may as often be due to the fact of a common elementary composition as to the fact of inheritance. If this be so, we have a simple explanation both of the fundamental resemblances which link all organisms together, and of the characteristic diversities which separate them into kingdoms, classes, and orders. The resemblances are many, and close, because the forms evolved had a similar elementary composition, and their stages of evolution were determined by similar conditions. The diversities are many, because the forms evolved had from the first some diversities in elementary composition, and their stages of evolution were determined under conditions which, though similar in general, have varied in particulars. Indeed, there is no other ground for the resemblances and differences among organic beings than the similarities and dissimilarities in their Substance and History; and, whether the similarities are due to blood-relationship, or to other causes, the results are the same. There is something seductive in the supposition that Life radiated from a single centre in ever-increasing circles, its forms becoming more and more various as they came under more various conditions, until at last the whole earth was crowded with diversified existences. “From one cell to myriads of complex organisms, through countless Æons of development,” is a formula of speculative grandeur, but I cannot bring myself to accept it; and I think that a lingering influence of the tradition of a “creative fiat” may be traced in its conception. May we not rather assume that the earth at the dawn of Life was a vast germinal membrane, every slightly diversified point producing its own vital form; and these myriads upon myriads of forms—all alike and all unlike—urged by the indwelling tendencies of development, struggled with each other for existence, many failing, many victorious, the victors carrying their tents into the camping ground of the vanquished. The point raised is the immense improbability of organized substance having been evolved only in one microscopic spot; if it were evolved at more than one spot, and under slightly varying conditions, there would necessarily have arisen in these earliest formations the initial diversities which afterwards determined the essential independence and difference of organisms.

129. Let us for a moment glance at the resemblances and diversities observable in all organisms. All have a common basis, all being constructed out of the same fundamental elements: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, and oxygen; these (the organogens, as they are named), with varying additions of some other elements, make up what we know as Organic Substance, vegetal and animal. Another peculiarity all organisms have in common, namely, that their matter is neither solid nor liquid, but viscid. Beside this community of Substance we must now place a community of History. All organisms grow and multiply by the same process; all pass through metamorphic stages ending in death; all, except the very simplest, differentiate parts of their substance for special uses, and these parts (cilia, membranes, tubes, glands, muscles, nerves) have similar characters in whatever organism they appear, and their development is always similar, so that the muscles or nerves of an intestinal worm, a lobster, or a man, are in structure and history fundamentally alike. When, therefore, we see that there is no biological character of fundamental importance which is not universal throughout the organic world, when we see that in Structure and History all organisms have a community pervading every variety, it is difficult not to draw the conclusion that some hidden link connects all organisms into one; and when, further, it is seen that the most divergent forms may be so arranged by the help of intermediate forms only slightly varying one from the other, that the extreme ends—the monad and the man—may be connected, and a genealogical tree constructed, which will group all forms as modified descendants from a single form, the hypothesis that kinship is the bidden link of which we are in search becomes more and more cogent.

130. But now let the other aspect be considered. If there is an unmistakable uniformity, there is also a diversity no less unmistakable. The chemical composition of organic substances is various. Unlike inorganic substances, the composition of which is rigorously definite, organic substances are, within narrow limits, variable in composition (§45).

I pass over the resemblances and differences observed in the earliest stages of development, marked as they are, and direct attention to the fact, that down at what must be considered the very lowest organic region, we meet with differences not less striking than those met with in the highest, we find structures (if structures they may be called), which cannot be affiliated, so widely divergent is their composition. The structureless vibrio, for example, is not only capable of living in a medium destitute of Oxygen, but is, according to M. Pasteur, actually killed by oxygen; whereas the equally simple bacteria can no more dispense with Oxygen than other animals can. Consider for a moment the differences implied in the fact that one organism cannot even form an enveloping membrane to contain its protoplasm, whereas another contrives to secrete an exquisite shell; yet between the naked Rhizopod and the shelled Rhizopod our lenses and reagents fail to detect a difference. One Monad can assimilate food of only one kind, another Monad assimilates various kinds.73 What a revelation of chemical differences appears in the observations of M. Pasteur respecting the vibrio and bacteria, in a fermentescible liquid—the former beginning the putrid fermentation which the latter completes! We cannot doubt that some marked difference must exist between the single-celled organism which produces alcoholic fermentation, and that which produces acetic fermentation, and that again which produces butyric fermentation; and if we find distinctions thus established at the lowest region of the organic series, we need not marvel if the distinctions become wider and more numerous as the series becomes more diversified. The structure and development of an organism are dependent on the affinities of its constituent molecules, and it is a biological principle of great importance which Sir James Paget insists on, when he shows how “the existence of certain materials in the blood may determine the formation of structures in which they may be incorporated.”74 Any initial diversity may thus become the starting-point of a considerable variation in subsequent evolution.75 Thus, supposing that on a given spot there are a dozen protoplasts closely resembling each other, yet each in some one detail slightly varying; if this variation is one which, by its relations to the external medium, admits of a difference in the assimilation of materials present in the medium, it may be the origin of some new direction in development, and the ultimate consequence may be the formation of a shell, an internal skeleton, a muscle, or a nerve. Were this not so, it would be impossible to explain such facts as that chitine is peculiar to the Articulata, cellulose to Molluscoida, carbonates of lime to Mollusca and Crustacea, and phosphates to Vertebrata—all assimilated from the same external medium. But we see that from this medium one organism selects the materials which another rejects; and this selection is determined by the nature of the structure: which assimilates only those materials it is fitted to assimilate. We hear a great deal of Adaptation determining changes of structure and function, and are too apt to regard this process as if it were not intimately dependent on a corresponding structural change. By no amount of external influence which left the elementary composition of the structure unchanged, could an organism with only two tissues be developed into an organism with three or four. By no supply or stimulus, could an animal incapable of assimilating peroxide of iron acquire red blood corpuscles, although it might have the iron without the corpuscles; nor could an oyster form its shell unless capable of assimilating carbonate of lime. For myriads of years, in seas and ponds, under endless varieties of external conditions, the amoebÆ have lived and died without forming a solid envelope, although the materials were abundant, and other organisms equally simple have formed envelopes of infinite variety. In all the seas, and from the earliest ages, zoophytes have lived, and assumed a marvellous variety of shapes and specialization of functions; but although some of them have acquired muscles, none have acquired true nerves, none bone. Ages upon ages rolled on before fishes were capable of forming bone; and thousands are still incapable of forming it, though living in the same waters as the osseous fishes.

131. “Looking to the dawn of life,” says Mr. Darwin (repeating an objection urged against his hypothesis), “when all organic beings, as we imagine, presented the simplest structure, how could the first steps in advancement, or in the differentiation and specialization of parts have arisen? I can make no sufficient answer; and can only say that, as we have no facts to guide us, all speculation would be baseless and useless.”

Where Mr. Darwin hesitates, lesser men need extra caution; but I must risk the danger of presumption, at least so far as to suggest that while an answer to this question is difficult on that dynamical view of Evolution which regards Function as determining Structure, it is less difficult on the statico-dynamical view propounded in these pages; the difficulty which besets the explanation when all the manifold varieties of organic forms are conceived as the successive divergences from an original starting-point, is lessened when a variety of different starting-points is assumed, in each of which some initial diversity prepared the way for subsequent differentiations; just as we know that between the ovum of a vertebrate and the ovum of an invertebrate, similar as they are, there is a diversity which manifests itself in their subsequent evolution. If Function is determined by Structure, and Evolution is the product of the two, it is clear that the different directions in the lines of development will have their origin in structural differences, and not in the action of external circumstances, unless these previously bring about a structural change. The action of the medium on the organism is assuredly a potent factor which Biology cannot ignore: but the organism itself is a factor, and according to its nature the influence of the medium is defined. (§118.)

132. Quitting for a moment the track of this argument, let us glance at the resemblances and differences observable in Plants and Animals, because most people admit that these have separate origins. The resemblances are scarcely less significant than those existing among animals. Both have a similar basis of elementary composition; not only are both formed out of protoplasts with similar properties, but in both the first step from the protoplasm to definite structure is the Cell. And the life of this Cell is remarkably alike in both, its phases of development being in many respects identical; nay, even such variations as obtain in the cell-membranes are curiously linked together by a community in the formative process.76 In both Plants and Animals we find individuals constituted—1st, by single cells; 2d, by groups of cells undistinguishable among each other; and 3d, by groups of differentiated cells. In both we find colonies of individuals leading a common life. In both the processes of Nutrition and Reproduction are essentially similar; both propagate sexually and asexually; both exhibit the surprising phenomena of parthenogenesis and alternate generations. In both there are examples of a free-roving embryo which in maturity becomes fixed to one spot, losing its locomotive organs and developing its reproductive organs. In both the development of the reproductive organs is the climax which carries Death. So close is the analogy between plant-life and animal-life, that it even reaches the properties usually held to be exclusively animal; I mean that even should we hesitate to accept Cohn’s discovery of the muscles in certain plants,77 we cannot deny that plants exhibit Contractility; and should we refuse to interpret as Sensibility the phenomena exhibited by the Sensitive Plants, we cannot deny that they present a very striking analogy to the phenomena of Sensibility exhibited by animals.

133. It is unnecessary to continue this enumeration, which might easily be carried into minute detail. A chapter of such resemblances would only burden the reader’s mind, without adding force to the conclusion that a surprising community in Substance and Life-history must be admitted between Plants and Animals. This granted, we turn to the differences, and find them no less fundamental and detailed. Chemistry tells us nothing of the differences in the protoplasms from which animals and plants arise; but that initial differences must exist is proved by the divergence of the products. The vegetable cell is not the animal cell; and although both plants and animals have albumen, fibrine, and caseine, the derivatives of these are unlike. Horny substance, connective tissue, nerve tissue, chitine, biliverdine, creatine, urea, hippuric acid, and a variety of other products of evolution or of waste, never appear in plants; while the hydrocarbons so abundant in plants are, with two or three exceptions, absent from animals. Such facts imply differences in elementary composition; and this result is further enforced by the fact that where the two seem to resemble, they are still different: the plant protoplasm forms various cells, but never forms a cartilage-cell or nerve-cell; fibres, but never a fibre of elastic tissue; tubes, but never a nerve tube; vessels, but never a vessel with muscular coatings; solid “skeletons,” but always from an organic substance (cellulose), not from phosphates and carbonates. In no one character can we say that the plant and the animal are identical; we can only point throughout the two kingdoms to a great similarity accompanying a radical diversity. 134. Having brought together the manifold resemblances, and the no less marked diversities, we must ask what is their significance? Do the resemblances imply a community of origin, an universal kinship? If so, the diversities will be nothing more than the divergences which have been produced by variations in the Life-history of the several groups. Or—taking the alternative view—do the diversities imply radical differences of origin? If so, the resemblances will be nothing more than the inevitable analogies resulting from Organized Substance being everywhere somewhat similar in composition, and similar in certain phases of evolution. To state the former position in the simplest way, we may assume that of two masses of protoplasm having a common parentage, one, by the accident of assimilating a certain element not brought within the range of the other, thereby becomes so differentiated as to form the starting-point of a series of evolutions widely divergent from those possible to its congener; and at each stage of evolution the introduction of a new element (made possible by that stage) will form the origin of a new variation. It is thus feasible to reduce all organic forms to a primordial protoplasm, in the evolutions of which successive differentiations have been established. On the other hand, it is equally feasible to assume that the existence of radical differences must be invoked to account for the possibility of the successive differentiations.

135. The hunt after resemblances has led to much mistaken speculation; and with reference to the topic now before us, it may be urged, that although by attaching ourselves to the points of community, in disregard of the diversities, we may make it appear that all animals have a common parentage, and that plants and animals are merely divergent groups of the same prototype, a rigorous logic will force us onwards, and compel us to admit that a kinship no less real unites the organic with the inorganic world. For upon what principle are we to pause at the cell or protoplasm? If by a successive elimination of differences we reduce all organisms to the cell, we must go on and reduce the cell itself to the chemical elements out of which it is constructed; and inasmuch as these elements are all common to the inorganic world, the only difference being one of synthesis, we reach a result which is the stultification of all classification, namely, the assertion of a kinship which is universal. We must bear in mind that all things may be reduced to a common root by simply disregarding their differences. All things are alike when we set aside their unlikeness.

136. Suppose, for the sake of illustration, we regard an Orchestra in the light of the Development Hypothesis. The various instruments of which it is composed have general resemblances and particular differences, not unlike those observable in various organisms; and as we proceed in the work of classification we quickly discover that they may be arranged in groups analogous to the Sub-kingdoms, Classes, Orders, Genera, and Species of the organic world. Each group has its cardinal distinction, its initial point of divergence. All musical instruments resemble each other in the fundamental character of producing Tone by the vibrations of their substance. This may be called their organic basis. The first marked difference which determines the character of two sub-kingdoms (namely, instruments of Percussion and Wind instruments) arises from a difference in the method of impressing the vibrations; and the grand divisions of these sub-kingdoms arise from the nature of the vibrating substances. Each type admits of many modifications, but the primary distinction is ineffaceable. We can conceive the Pipe modified into a Flute, a Flageolet, a Clarionet, a Hautbois, a Bassoon, or a Fife, by simple accessory changes; to modify the Pipe into a Trumpet, and thus produce the peculiar timbre of the trumpet, would be impossible except by the substitution of a new material; by replacing the wood with metal we may adhere to the old Type, but we have created a new Class. (Attention is requested to this point, because the current views respecting the transmutation of tissues, which seem to lend a decisive support to the hypothesis of the transmutation of species are very commonly vitiated by the confusion of transformation with substitution. No anatomical element is transformed into another specifically different—an epithelial-cell into a nerve-cell, for instance—but one anatomical element is frequently substituted for another.) To convert the Pipe or the Trumpet into a Violin or a Drum would be impossible. We can follow the modifications of a Tambourine into a Drum or Kettle-drum, but no modifications of these will yield the Cymbals. That is to say, the vibrating materials—wood, metal, parchment, and the combination of wood and strings—have peculiar properties, and the instruments formed of such materials must necessarily from the very first belong to different groups, each subdivision of the groups being dependent on some characteristic difference in methods of impressing the vibrations, or in the materials. Although all musical instruments have a common property and a common purpose, we do not regard them as transformations of one primitive instrument; their kindred nature is a subjective conception; the analogies are numerous and close, but we know their origin. It is obvious that men being pleased by musical tones, have been led by their delight to construct instruments whenever they have discovered substances capable of musical vibrations, or methods of impressing such vibrations. By substituting the bow for the plectrum or the fingers, they may have changed the Lyre into the Violin, Viola, Violoncello, and Bass. (It seems historically probable that the real origin of the Violin class was an instrument with one string played on by a bow.) By grouping together Pipes of various sizes they got the Panpipes; by substituting metal and enlarging the blowing apparatus they got the Organ. By beating on stretched parchment with the finger, they got the Tambourine and Tom-Tom; by doubling this and using a stick they got the Drum. By beating metal with metal they got the Cymbals; by beating wood they got the Castanets.

137. The application of this illustration is plain. Just as a wind-instrument is incapable of becoming a stringed instrument, so a Mollusc, with all its muscles unstriped, and its nervous system unsymmetrical, is incapable of becoming a Crustacean, with all its muscles striped and its nervous system symmetrical. Indeed there are probably few biologists of the present day who imagine the transmutation of one kind into the other to be possible; but many biologists assume that both may have been evolved from a common root. The point is beyond proof; yet I think there is a greater probability in the assumption that both were evolved from different roots. At any rate, one thing is certain; a divergence could only have been effected by a series of substitutions; and the question when and how these substitutions took place is unanswerable: one school believes them to have been creative fiats, the other school believes them to have been transmutations.

138. When we see an annelid and a vertebrate resembling each other in some special point which is not common either to their classes or to any intermediate classes—as when we see the wood-louse (Oniscus) and the hedgehog defend themselves in the same strange way by rolling up into a ball—we cannot interpret this as a trace of distant kinship. When we see a breed of pigeons and a breed of canaries turning somersaults, and one of the Bear family (Ratel) given to the same singular habit, we can hardly suppose that this is in each case inherited from a common progenitor. When we see one savage race tipping arrows with iron, and another, ignorant of iron, using poison, there is a community of object effected by diversity of means; but the analogy does not necessarily imply any closer connection between the two races than the fact that men with similar faculties and similar wants find out similar methods of supplying their wants. Even those who admit that the human race is one family, and that the various peoples carried with them a common fund of knowledge when they separated from the parent stock, may still point to a variety of new inventions and new social developments which occurred quite independently of each other, yet are strikingly alike. Their resemblance will be due to resemblance in the conditions. The existence, for example, of a religious worship, or a social institution, in two nations widely separated both in time and space, and under great historical diversities, is no absolute proof that these two nations are from the same stock, and that the ideas have the same parentage. It may be so; it may be otherwise. It may be an analogy no more implying kinship than the fact of ants making slaves of other ants (and these the black ants!) implies a kinship with men. Given an organization which in the two nations is alike, and a history which is in certain characteristics analogous, there must inevitably result religious and social institutions having a corresponding resemblance. I do not wish to imply that the researches of philologists and ethnologists are misdirected, or that their conclusions respecting the kinship of mankind are to be rejected; I only urge the consideration that perhaps too much stress is laid on community of blood, and not enough on community of conditions.

RECAPITULATION.

139. The various lines of argument may here be recapitulated. The organic world presents a spectacle of endless diversity, accompanied by a pervading uniformity. The general resemblances in forms and functions are more or less masked by particular differences. The resemblances, it is said, may be all due to kinship, all the living individuals having descended from a primordial cell; and at each stage of the descent the adaptations to new conditions may have issued in deviations from the ancestral form, while the process of Natural Selection giving stability to those variations which best fitted the organism in the struggle of existence, has made greater and greater gaps, and produced more marked diversities among the descendants. This is the Darwinian Theory: “On my theory unity of Type is explained by unity of Descent.”

140. By the general consent of biologists, this theory is held to explain many if not all the observed facts. It is a very luminous suggestion; but it requires an enlargement so as to include Organic Affinity; and when once this fundamental principle is admitted, it brings with it very serious doubts as to the theory of Descent. We are then entitled to assume that many of the most striking resemblances, instead of being due to kinship, are due simply to the general principle that similar causes must have similar effects, and that organic substances having a very close resemblance, organized substances must have similar stages of evolution under similar conditions; and thus organs will necessarily take on very similar forms in very different organisms (for example, the eye of the cephalopod and the eye of the vertebrate), and organisms having widely different parentage may closely resemble each other. If we are entitled to assume that protoplasm appeared not in one microscopic spot alone, but in many places and in vast quantities—and this is surely the more justifiable assumption—then we must also admit that these germinal starting-points were from the first, or very shortly afterwards, differentiated by variations in their elementary composition. Now we know that a very minute change in composition may lead to immense differences in evolution. Thus the descendants of two slightly different progenitors may, by continual differentiation, become very markedly unlike; yet, because of the original resemblance of their substances, they will reveal a pervading similarity.

While it is thus conceivable that all organisms may resemble each other, and all differ, owing to the similarities and diversities in the “conditions of existence” (and among those conditions that of descent is of wide range), it is not very readily conceivable how advantage in the external struggle could have determined the varieties of form and function, because many differentiations give no superiority in the struggle. As Mr. St. George Mivart urges, “Natural Selection utterly fails to account for the conservation and development of the minute and rudimentary beginnings, the slight and infinitesimal commencements of structures, however useful those structures may afterwards become.”78 And this is undeniable on the supposition that Natural Selection is an agency not identical with the variations of growth, but exclusively confined to the accumulation of favorable variations.

141. In estimating the two hypotheses—First, of Descent from one primordial germ, and the modifications due to Natural Selection, or, as I should say, expressed in Selection; and Secondly, of Descent from innumerable germs having initial differences, which differences radiated into the marked modifications, there is this superiority to be claimed for the first, that it is more easily handled as an aid to research, and is therefore more decidedly useful. The laws of Organic Affinity are at present too obscure for any successful application. I only wish to point out that the theory of Descent is an imaginary construction of what may have been the process of species-formation, not a transcription of the process observed. It constructs an imaginary Type as progenitor of a long line of widely different descendants. The annelid which is taken as the ancestor of the vertebrates is not any annelid known either to zoÖlogists or geologists, but a generalized and imaginary type. So daringly liberal is the imagination in endowing the ancestor with whatever may be required for the descendants, that Mr. Darwin thinks it probable, from what we know of the embryos of vertebrates, that these animals “are the modified descendants of some ancient progenitor which was furnished in its adult state with branchiÆ, a swim-bladder, four simple limbs, and a long tail, all fitted for an organic life,” (p. 533); and Dr. Dohrn conceives the original type to have contained within itself all that has been subsequently evolved in the highest vertebrate, the other and less elaborate organisms being mere degradations from this type.79 This use of the imagination, although not without advantages, is also not without dangers. It may direct research, it must not be suffered to replace research.