Now that we have traversed the wonderful region of human embryology and are familiar with the principal parts of it, it will be well to look back on the way we have come, and forward to the further path to truth to which it has led us. We started from the simplest facts of ontogeny, or the development of the individual—from observations that we can repeat and verify by microscopic and anatomic study at any moment. The first and most important of these facts is that every man, like every other animal, begins his existence as a simple cell. This round ovum has the same characteristic form and origin as the ovum of any other mammal. From it is developed in the same manner in all the Placentals, by repeated cleavage, a multicellular blastula. This is converted into a gastrula, and this in turn into a blastocystis (or embryonic vesicle). The two strata of cells that compose its wall are the primary germinal layers, the skin-layer (ectoderm), and gut-layer (entoderm). This two-layered embryonic form is the ontogenetic reproduction of the extremely important phylogenetic stem-form of all the Metazoa, which we have called the Gastræa. As the human embryo passes through the gastrula-form like that of all the other Metazoa, we can trace its phylogenetic origin to the Gastræa.
As we continued to follow the embryonic development of the two-layered structure, we saw that first a third, or middle layer (mesoderm), appears between the two primary layers; when this divides into two, we have the four secondary germinal layers. These have just the same composition and genetic significance in man as in all the other Vertebrates. From the skin-sense layer are developed the epidermis, the central nervous system, and the chief part of the sense-organs. The skin-fibre layer forms the corium and the motor organs—the skeleton and the muscular system. From the gut-fibre layer are developed the vascular system, the muscular wall of the gut, and the sexual glands. Finally, the gut-gland layer only forms the epithelium, or the inner cellular stratum of the mucous membrane of the alimentary canal and glands (lungs, liver, etc.).
The manner in which these different systems of organs arise from the secondary germinal layers is essentially the same from the start in man as in all the other Vertebrates. We saw, in studying the embryonic development of each organ, that the human embryo follows the special lines of differentiation and construction that are only found otherwise in the Vertebrates. Within the limits of this vast stem we have followed, step by step, the development both of the body as a whole and of its various parts. This higher development follows in the human embryo the form that is peculiar to the mammals. Finally, we saw that, even within the limits of this class, the various phylogenetic stages that we distinguish in a natural classification of the mammals correspond to the ontogenetic stages that the human embryo passes through in the course of its evolution. We were thus in a position to determine precisely the position of man in this class, and so to establish his relationship to the different orders of mammals.
The line of argument we followed in this explanation of the ontogenetic facts was simply a consistent application of the biogenetic law. In this we have throughout taken strict account of the distinction between palingenetic and cenogenetic phenomena. Palingenesis (or “synoptic development”) alone enables us to draw conclusions from the observed embryonic form to the stem-form preserved by heredity. Such inference becomes more or less precarious when there has been cenogenesis, or disturbance of development, owing to fresh adaptations. We cannot understand embryonic development unless we appreciate this very important distinction. Here we stand at the very limit that separates the older and the new science or philosophy of nature. The whole of the results of recent morphological research compel us irresistibly
to recognise the biogenetic law and its far-reaching consequences. These are, it is true, irreconcilable with the legends and doctrines of former days, that have been impressed on us by religious education. But without the biogenetic law, without the distinction between palingenesis and cenogenesis, and without the theory of evolution on which we base it, it is quite impossible to understand the facts of organic development; without them we cannot cast the faintest gleam of explanation over this marvellous field of phenomena. But when we recognise the causal correlation of ontogeny and phylogeny expressed in this law, the wonderful facts of embryology are susceptible of a very simple explanation; they are found to be the necessary mechanical effects of the evolution of the stem, determined by the laws of heredity and adaptation. The correlative action of these laws under the universal influence of the struggle for existence, or—as we may say in a word, with Darwin—“natural selection,” is entirely adequate to explain the whole process of embryology in the light of phylogeny. It is the chief merit of Darwin that he explained by his theory of selection the correlation of the laws of heredity and adaptation that Lamarck had recognised, and pointed out the true way to reach a causal interpretation of evolution.
The phenomenon that it is most imperative to recognise in this connection is the inheritance of functional variations. Jean Lamarck was the first to appreciate its fundamental importance in 1809, and we may therefore justly give the name of Lamarckism to the theory of descent he based on it. Hence the radical opponents of the latter have very properly directed their attacks chiefly against the former. One of the most distinguished and most narrow-minded of these opponents, Wilhelm His, affirms very positively that “characteristics acquired in the life of the individual are not inherited.”
The inheritance of acquired characters is denied, not only by thorough opponents of evolution, but even by scientists who admit it and have contributed a good deal to its establishment, especially Weismann, Galton, Ray Lankester, etc. Since 1884 the chief opponent has been August Weismann, who has rendered the greatest service in the development of Darwin’s theory of selection. In his work on The Continuity of the Germ-plasm, and in his recent excellent Lectures on the Theory of Descent (1902), he has with great success advanced the opinion that “only those characters can be transmitted to subsequent generations that were contained in rudimentary form in the embryo.” However, this germ-plasm theory, with its attempt to explain heredity, is merely a “provisional molecular hypothesis”; it is one of those metaphysical speculations that attribute the evolutionary phenomena exclusively to internal causes, and regard the influence of the environment as insignificant. Herbert Spencer, Theodor Eimer, Lester Ward, Hering, and Zehnder have pointed out the untenable consequences of this position. I have given my view of it in the tenth edition of the History of Creation (pp. 192, 203). I hold, with Lamarck and Darwin, that the hereditary transmission of acquired characters is one of the most important phenomena in biology, and is proved by thousands of morphological and physiological experiences. It is an indispensable foundation of the theory of evolution.
Of the many and weighty arguments for the truth of this conception of evolution I will for the moment merely point to the invaluable evidence of dysteleology, the science of rudimentary organs. We cannot insist too often or too strongly on the great morphological significance of these remarkable organs, which are completely useless from the physiological point of view. We find some of these useless parts, inherited from our lower vertebrate ancestors, in every system of organs in man and the higher Vertebrates. Thus we find at once on the skin a scanty and rudimentary coat of hair, only fully developed on the head, under the shoulders, and at a few other parts of the body. The short hairs on the greater part of the body are quite useless and devoid of physiological value; they are the last relic of the thicker hairy coat of our simian ancestors. The sensory apparatus presents a series of most remarkable rudimentary organs. We have seen that the whole of the shell of the external ear, with its cartilages, muscles, and skin, is in man a useless appendage, and has not the physiological importance that was formerly ascribed to it. It is the degenerate remainder of the pointed, freely moving, and more advanced mammal ear, the muscles of which we still have, but cannot work them. We found at the
inner corner of our eye a small, curious, semi-lunar fold that is of no use whatever to us, and is only interesting as the last relic of the nictitating membrane, the third, inner eye-lid that had a distinct physiological purpose in the ancient sharks, and still has in many of the Amniotes.
The motor apparatus, in both the skeleton and muscular systems, provides a number of interesting dysteleological arguments. I need only recall the projecting tail of the human embryo, with its rudimentary caudal vertebræ and muscles; this is totally useless in man, but very interesting as the degenerate relic of the long tail of our simian ancestors. From these we have also inherited various bony processes and muscles, which were very useful to them in climbing trees, but are useless to us. At various points of the skin we have cutaneous muscles which we never use—remnants of a strongly-developed cutaneous muscle in our lower mammal ancestors. This “panniculus carnosus” had the function of contracting and creasing the skin to chase away the flies, as we see every day in the horse. Another relic in us of this large cutaneous muscle is the frontal muscle, by which we knit our forehead and raise our eye-brows; but there is another considerable relic of it, the large cutaneous muscle in the neck (platysma myoides), over which we have no voluntary control.
Not only in the systems of animal organs, but also in the vegetal apparatus, we find a number of rudimentary organs, many of which we have already noticed. In the alimentary apparatus there are the thymus-gland and the thyroid gland, the seat of goitre and the relic of a ciliated groove that the Tunicates and Acrania still have in the gill-pannier; there is also the vermiform appendix to the cæcum. In the vascular system we have a number of useless cords which represent relics of atrophied vessels that were once active as blood-canals—the ductus Botalli between the pulmonary artery and the aorta, the ductus venosus Arantii between the portal vein and the vena cava, and many others. The many rudimentary organs in the urinary and sexual apparatus are particularly interesting. These are generally developed in one sex and rudimentary in the other. Thus the spermaducts are formed from the Wolffian ducts in the male, whereas in the female we have merely rudimentary traces of them in Gaertner’s canals. On the other hand, in the female the oviducts and womb are developed from the Mullerian ducts, while in the male only the lowest ends of them remain as the “male womb” (vesicula prostatica). Again, the male has in his nipples and mammary glands the rudiments of organs that are usually active only in the female.
A careful anatomic study of the human frame would disclose to us numbers of other rudimentary organs, and these can only be explained on the theory of evolution. Robert Wiedersheim has collected a large number of them in his work on The Human Frame as a Witness to its Past. They are some of the weightiest proofs of the truth of the mechanical conception and the strongest disproofs of the teleological view. If, as the latter demands, man or any other organism had been designed and fitted for his life-purposes from the start and brought into being by a creative act, the existence of these rudimentary organs would be an insoluble enigma; it would be impossible to understand why the Creator had put this useless burden on his creatures to walk a path that is in itself by no means easy. But the theory of evolution gives the simplest possible explanation of them. It says: The rudimentary organs are parts of the body that have fallen into disuse in the course of centuries; they had definite functions in our animal ancestors, but have lost their physiological significance. On account of fresh adaptations they have become superfluous, but are transmitted from generation to generation by heredity, and gradually atrophy.
We have inherited not only these rudimentary parts, but all the organs of our body, from the mammals—proximately from the apes. The human body does not contain a single organ that has not been inherited from the apes. In fact, with the aid of our biogenetic law we can trace the origin of our various systems of organs much further, down to the lowest stages of our ancestry. We can say, for instance, that we have inherited the oldest organs of the body, the external skin and the internal coat of the alimentary system, from the Gastræads; the nervous and muscular systems from the Platodes; the vascular system, the body-cavity, and the blood from the Vermalia; the chorda and the branchial gut from the Prochordonia;
the articulation of the body from the Acrania; the primitive skull and the higher sense-organs from the Cyclostomes; the limbs and jaws from the Selachii; the five-toed foot from the Amphibia; the palate from the Reptiles; the hairy coat, the mammary glands, and the external sexual organs from the Pro-mammals. When we formulated “the law of the ontogenetic connection of systematically related forms,” and determined the relative age of organs, we saw how it was possible to draw phylogenetic conclusions from the ontogenetic succession of systems of organs.
With the aid of this important law and of comparative anatomy we were also enabled to determine “man’s place in nature,” or, as we put it, assign to man his position in the classification of the animal kingdom. In recent zoological classification the animal world is divided into twelve stems or phyla, and these are broadly sub-divided into about sixty classes, and these classes into at least 300 orders. In his whole organisation man is most certainly, in the first place, a member of one of these stems, the vertebrate stem; secondly, a member of one particular class in this stem, the Mammals; and thirdly, of one particular order, the order of Primates. He has all the characteristics that distinguish the Vertebrates from the other eleven animal stems, the Mammals from the other sixty classes, and the Primates from the 300 other orders of the animal kingdom. We may turn and twist as we like, but we cannot get over this fact of anatomy and classification. Of late years this fact has given rise to a good deal of discussion, and especially of controversy as to the particular anatomic relationship of man to the apes. The most curious opinions have been advanced on this “ape-question,” or “pithecoid-theory.” It is as well, therefore, to go into it once more and distinguish the essential from the unessential. (Cf. pp. 261–5.)
We start from the undisputed fact that man is in any case—whether we accept or reject his special blood-relationship to the apes—a true mammal; in fact, a placental mammal. This fundamental fact can be proved so easily at any moment from comparative anatomy that it has been universally admitted since the separation of the Placentals from the lower mammals (Marsupials and Monotremes). But for every consistent subscriber to the theory of evolution it must follow at once that man descends from a common stem-form with all the other Placentals, the stem-ancestor of the Placentals, just as we must admit a common mesozoic ancestor of all the mammals. This is, however, to settle decisively the great and burning question of man’s place in nature, whether or no we go on to admit a nearer or more distant relationship to the apes. Whether man is or is not a member of the ape-order (or, if you prefer, the primate-order.) in the phylogenetic sense, in any case his direct blood-relationship to the rest of the mammals, and especially the Placentals, is established. It is possible that the affinities of the various orders of mammals to each other are different from what we hypothetically assume to-day. But, in any case, the common descent of man and all the other mammals from one stem-form is beyond question. This long-extinct Promammal was probably evolved from Proreptiles during the Triassic period, and must certainly be regarded as the monotreme and oviparous ancestor of all the mammals.
If we hold firmly to this fundamental and most important thesis, we shall see the “ape-question” in a very different light from that in which it is usually regarded. Little reflection is then needed to see that it is not nearly so important as it is said to be. The origin of the human race from a series of mammal ancestors, and the historic evolution of these from an earlier series of lower vertebrate ancestors, together with all the weighty conclusions that every thoughtful man deduces therefrom, remain untouched; so far as these are concerned, it is immaterial whether we regard true “apes” as our nearest ancestors or not. But as it has become the fashion to lay the chief stress in the whole question of man’s origin on the “descent from the apes,” I am compelled to return to it once more, and recall the facts of comparative anatomy and ontogeny that give a decisive answer to this “ape-question.”
The shortest way to attain our purpose is that followed by Huxley in 1863 in his able work, which I have already often quoted, Man’s Place in Nature—the way of comparative anatomy and ontogeny. We have to compare impartially all man’s organs with the same organs in the higher apes, and then to examine if the differences between the two are greater
than the corresponding differences between the higher and the lower apes. The indubitable and incontestable result of this comparative-anatomical study, conducted with the greatest care and impartiality, was the pithecometra-principle, which we have called the Huxleian law in honour of its formulator—namely, that the differences in organisation between man and the most advanced apes we know are much slighter than the corresponding differences in organisation between the higher and lower apes. We may even give a more precise formula to this law, by excluding the Platyrrhines or American apes as distant relatives, and restricting the comparison to the narrower family-circle of the Catarrhines, the apes of the Old World. Within the limits of this small group of mammals we found the structural differences between the lower and higher catarrhine apes—for instance, the baboon and the gorilla—to be much greater than the differences between the anthropoid apes and man. If we now turn to ontogeny, and find, according to our “law of the ontogenetic connection of systematically related forms,” that the embryos of the anthropoid apes and man retain their resemblance for a longer time than the embryos of the highest and the lowest apes, we are forced, whether we like it or no, to recognise our descent from the order of apes. We can assuredly construct an approximate picture in the imagination of the form of our early Tertiary ancestors from the foregoing facts of comparative anatomy; however we may frame this in detail, it will be the picture of a true ape, and a distinct catarrhine ape. This has been shown so well by Huxley (1863) that the recent attacks of Klaatsch, Virchow, and other anthropologists, have completely failed (cf. pp.263–264). All the structural characters that distinguish the Catarrhines from the Platyrrhines are found in man. Hence in the genealogy of the mammals we must derive man immediately from the catarrhine group, and locate the origin of the human race in the Old World. Only the early root-form from which both descended was common to them.
It is, therefore, established beyond question for all impartial scientific inquiry that the human race comes directly from the apes of the Old World; but, at the same time, I repeat that this is not so important in connection with the main question of the origin of man as is commonly supposed. Even if we entirely ignore it, all that we have learned from the zoological facts of comparative anatomy and ontogeny as to the placental character of man remains untouched. These prove beyond all doubt the common descent of man and all the rest of the mammals. Further, the main question is not in the least affected if it is said: “It is true that man is a mammal; but he has diverged at the very root of the class from all the other mammals, and has no closer relationship to any living group of mammals.” The affinity is more or less close in any case, if we examine the relation of the mammal class to the sixty other classes of the animal world. Quite certainly the whole of the mammals, including man, have had a common origin; and it is equally certain that their common stem-forms were gradually evolved from a long series of lower Vertebrates.
The resistance to the theory of a descent from the apes is clearly due in most men to feeling rather than to reason. They shrink from the notion of such an origin just because they see in the ape organism a caricature of man, a distorted and unattractive image of themselves, because it hurts man’s æsthetic complacency and self-ennoblement. It is more flattering to think we have descended from some lofty and god-like being; and so, from the earliest times, human vanity has been pleased to believe in our origin from gods or demi-gods. The Church, with that sophistic reversal of ideas of which it is a master, has succeeded in representing this ridiculous piece of vanity as “Christian humility”; and the very men who reject with horror the notion of an animal origin, and count themselves “children of God,” love to prate of their “humble sense of servitude.” In most of the sermons that have poured out from pulpit and altar against the doctrine of evolution human vanity and conceit have been a conspicuous element; and, although we have inherited this very characteristic weakness from the apes, we must admit that we have developed it to a higher degree, which is entirely repudiated by sound and normal intelligence. We are greatly amused at all the childish follies that the ridiculous pride of ancestry has maintained from the Middle Ages to our own time; yet there is a large amount of this empty feeling in
most men. Just as most people much prefer to trace their family back to some degenerate baron or some famous prince rather than to an unknown peasant, so most men would rather have as parent of the race a sinful and fallen Adam than an advancing, and vigorous ape. It is a matter of taste, and to that extent we cannot quarrel over these genealogical tendencies. Personally, the notion of ascent is more congenial to me than that of descent. It seems to me a finer thing to be the advanced offspring of a simian ancestor, that has developed progressively from the lower mammals in the struggle for life, than the degenerate descendant of a god-like being, made from a clod, and fallen for his sins, and an Eve created from one of his ribs. Speaking of the rib, I may add to what I have said about the development of the skeleton, that the number of ribs is just the same in man and woman. In both of them the ribs are formed from the middle germinal layer, and are, from the phylogenetic point of view, lower or ventral vertebral arches.
But it is said: “That is all very well, as far as the human body is concerned; on the facts quoted it is impossible to doubt that it has really and gradually been evolved from the long ancestral series of the Vertebrates. But it is quite another thing as regards man’s mind, or soul; this cannot possibly have been developed from the vertebrate-soul.”1 Let us see if we cannot meet this grave stricture from the well-known facts of comparative anatomy, physiology, and embryology. It will be best to begin with a comparative study of the souls of various groups of Vertebrates. Here we find such an enormous variety of vertebrate souls that, at first sight, it seems quite impossible to trace them all to a common “Primitive Vertebrate.” Think of the tiny Amphioxus, with no real brain but a simple medullary tube, and its whole psychic life at the very lowest stage among the Vertebrates. The following group of the Cyclostomes are still very limited, though they have a brain. When we pass on to the fishes, we find their intelligence remaining at a very low level. We do not see any material advance in mental development until we go on to the Amphibia and Reptiles. There is still greater advance when we come to the Mammals, though even here the minds of the Monotremes and of the stupid Marsupials remain at a low stage. But when we rise from these to the Placentals we find within this one vast group such a number of important stages of differentiation and progress that the psychic differences between the least intelligent (such as the sloths and armadillos) and the most intelligent Placentals (such as the dogs and apes) are much greater than the psychic differences between the lowest Placentals and the Marsupials or Monotremes. Most certainly the differences are far greater than the differences in mental power between the dog, the ape, and man. Yet all these animals are genetically-related members of a single natural class.
We see this to a still more astonishing extent in the comparative psychology of another class of animals, that is especially interesting for many reasons—the insect class. It is well known that we find in many insects a degree of intelligence that is found in man alone among the Vertebrates. Everybody knows of the famous communities and states of bees and ants, and of the very remarkable social arrangements in them, such as we find among the more advanced races of men, but among no other group of animals. I need only mention the social organisation and government of the monarchic bees and the republican ants, and their division into different conditions—queen, drone-nobles, workers, educators, soldiers, etc. One of the most remarkable phenomena in this very interesting province is the cattle-keeping of the ants, which rear plant-lice as milch-cows and regularly extract their honeyed juice. Still more remarkable is the slave-holding of the large red ants, which steal the young of the small black ants and bring them up as slaves. It has long been known that these political and social arrangements of the ants are due to the deliberate cooperation of the countless citizens, and that they understand each other. A number of recent observers, especially Fritz Müller, Sir J. Lubbock (Lord Avebury), and August Forel, have put the astonishing degree of intelligence of these tiny Articulates beyond question.
Now, compare with these the mental life of many of the lower, especially the parasitic insects, as Darwin did. There is, for instance, the cochineal insect
1. The English reader will recognise here the curious position of Dr. Wallace and of the late Dr. Mivart.—Translator.
(Coccus), which, in its adult state, has a motionless, shield-shaped body, attached to the leaves of plants. Its feet are atrophied. Its snout is sunk in the tissue of the plants of which it absorbs the sap. The whole psychic life of these inert female parasites consists in the pleasure they experience from sucking the sap of the plant and in sexual intercourse with the males. It is the same with the maggot-like females of the fan-fly (Strepsitera), which spend their lives parasitically and immovably, without wings or feet, in the abdomen of wasps. There is no question here of higher psychic action. If we compare these sluggish parasites with the intelligent and active ants, we must admit that the psychic differences between them are much greater than the psychic differences between the lowest and highest mammals, between the Monotremes, Marsupials, and armadillos on the one hand, and the dog, ape, or man on the other. Yet all these insects belong to the same class of Articulates, just as all the mammals belong to one and the same class. And just as every consistent evolutionist must admit a common stem-form for all these insects, so he must also for all the mammals.
If we now turn from the comparative study of psychic life in different animals to the question of the organs of this function, we receive the answer that in all the higher animals they are always bound up with certain groups of cells, the ganglionic cells or neurona that compose the nervous system. All scientists without exception are agreed that the central nervous system is the organ of psychic life in the animal, and it is possible to prove this experimentally at any moment. When we partially or wholly destroy the central nervous system, we extinguish in the same proportion, partially or wholly, the “soul” or psychic activity of the animal. We have, therefore, to examine the features of the psychic organ in man. The reader already knows the incontestable answer to this question. Man’s psychic organ is, in structure and origin, just the same organ as in all the other Vertebrates. It originates in the shape of a simple medullary tube from the outer membrane of the embryo—the skin-sense layer. The simple cerebral vesicle that is formed by the expansion of the head-part of this medullary tube divides by transverse constrictions into five, and these pass through more or less the same stages of construction in the human embryo as in the rest of the mammals. As these are undoubtedly of a common origin, their brain and spinal cord must also have a common origin.
Physiology teaches us further, on the ground of observation and experiment, that the relation of the “soul” to its organ, the brain and spinal cord, is just the same in man as in the other mammals. The one cannot act at all without the other; it is just as much bound up with it as muscular movement is with the muscles. It can only develop in connection with it. If we are evolutionists at all, and grant the causal connection of ontogenesis and phylogenesis, we are forced to admit this thesis: The human soul or psyche, as a function of the medullary tube, has developed along with it; and just as brain and spinal cord now develop from the simple medullary tube in every human individual, so the human mind or the psychic life of the whole human race has been gradually evolved from the lower vertebrate soul. Just as to-day the intricate structure of the brain proceeds step by step from the same rudiment in every human individual—the same five cerebral vesicles—as in all the other Craniotes; so the human soul has been gradually developed in the course of millions of years from a long series of craniote-souls. Finally, just as to-day in every human embryo the various parts of the brain differentiate after the special type of the ape-brain, so the human psyche has proceeded historically from the ape-soul.
It is true that this Monistic conception is rejected with horror by most men, and the Dualistic idea, which denies the inseparable connection of brain and mind, and regards body and soul as two totally different things, is still popular. But how can we reconcile this view with the known facts of evolution? It meets with difficulties equally great and insuperable in embryology and in phylogeny. If we suppose with the majority of men that the soul is an independent entity, which has nothing to do with the body originally, but merely inhabits it for a time, and gives expression to its experiences through the brain just as the pianist does through his instrument, we must assign a point in human embryology at which the soul enters into the brain; and at death again we must assign a moment at which it abandons the body. As, further, each human individual has inherited certain
personal features from each parent, we must suppose that in the act of conception pieces were detached from their souls and transferred to the embryo. A piece of the paternal soul goes with-the spermatozoon, and a piece of the mother’s soul remains in the ovum. At the moment of conception, when portions of the two nuclei of the copulating cells join together to form the nucleus of the stem-cell, the accompanying fragments of the immaterial souls must also be supposed to coalesce.
On this Dualistic view the phenomena of psychic development are totally incomprehensible. Everybody knows that the new-born child has no consciousness, no knowledge of itself and the surrounding world. Every parent who has impartially followed the mental development of his children will find it impossible to deny that it is a case of biological evolutionary processes. Just as all other functions of the body develop in connection with their organs, so the soul does in connection with the brain. This gradual unfolding of the soul of the child is, in fact, so wonderful and glorious a phenomenon that every mother or father who has eyes to observe is never tired of contemplating it. It is only our manuals of psychology that know nothing of this development; we are almost tempted to think sometimes that their authors can never have had children themselves. The human soul, as described in most of our psychological works, is merely the soul of a learned philosopher, who has read a good many books, but knows nothing of evolution, and never even reflects that his own soul has had a development.
When these Dualistic philosophers are consistent they must assign a moment in the phylogeny of the human soul at which it was first “introduced” into man’s vertebrate body. Hence, at the time when the human body was evolved from the anthropoid body of the ape (probably in the Tertiary period), a specific human psychic element—or, as people love to say, “a spark of divinity”—must have been suddenly infused or breathed into the anthropoid brain, and been associated with the ape-soul already present in it. I need not insist on the enormous theoretical difficulties of this idea. I will only point out that this “spark of divinity,” which is supposed to distinguish the soul of man from that of the other animals, must be itself capable of development, and has, as a matter of fact, progressively developed in the course of human history. As a rule, reason is taken to be this “spark of divinity,” and is supposed to be an exclusive possession of humanity. But comparative psychology shows us that it is quite impossible to set up this barrier between man and the brute. Either we take the word “reason” in the wider sense, and then it is found in the higher mammals (ape, dog, elephant, horse) just as well as in most men; or else in the narrower sense, and then it is lacking in most men just as much as in the majority of animals. On the whole, we may still say of man’s reason what Goethe’s Mephistopheles said:—
Life somewhat better might content him
But for the gleam of heavenly light that Thou hast given him.
He calls it reason; thence his power’s increased
To be still beastlier than any beast.
If, then, we must reject these popular and, in some respects, agreeable Dualistic theories as untenable, because inconsistent with the genetic facts, there remains only the opposite or Monistic conception, according to which the human soul is, like any other animal soul, a function of the central nervous system, and develops in inseparable connection therewith. We see this ontogenetically in every child. The biogenetic law compels us to affirm it phylogenetically. Just as in every human embryo the skin-sense layer gives rise to the medullary tube, from the anterior end of which the five cerebral vesicles of the Craniotes are developed, and from these the mammal brain (first with the characters of the lower, then with those of the higher mammals); and as the whole of this ontogenetic process is only a brief, hereditary reproduction of the same process in the phylogenesis of the Vertebrates; so the wonderful spiritual life of the human race through many thousands of years has been evolved step by step from the lowly psychic life of the lower Vertebrates, and the development of every child-soul is only a brief repetition of that long and complex phylogenetic process. From all these facts sound reason must conclude that the still prevalent belief in the immortality of the soul is an untenable superstition. I have shown its inconsistency with modern science in the eleventh chapter of The Riddle of the Universe.
Here it may also be well to point out
the great importance of anthropogeny, in the light of the biogenetic law, for the purposes of philosophy. The speculative philosophers who take cognizance of these ontogenetic facts, and explain them (in accordance with the law) phylogenetically, will advance the great questions of philosophy far more than the most distinguished thinkers of all ages have yet succeeded in doing. Most certainly every clear and consistent thinker must derive from the facts of comparative anatomy and ontogeny we have adduced a number of suggestive ideas that cannot fail to have an influence on the progress of philosophy. Nor can it be doubted that the candid statement and impartial appreciation of these facts will lead to the decisive triumph of the philosophic tendency that we call “Monistic” or “Mechanical,” as opposed to the “Dualistic” or “Teleological,” on which most of the ancient, medieval, and modern systems of philosophy are based. The Monistic or Mechanical philosophy affirms that all the phenomena of human life and of the rest of nature are ruled by fixed and unalterable laws; that there is everywhere a necessary causal connection of phenomena; and that, therefore, the whole knowable universe is a harmonious unity, a monon. It says, further, that all phenomena are due solely to mechanical or efficient causes, not to final causes. It does not admit free-will in the ordinary sense of the word. In the light of the Monistic philosophy the phenomena that we are wont to regard as the freest and most independent, the expressions of the human will, are subject just as much to rigid laws as any other natural phenomenon. As a matter of fact, impartial and thorough examination of our “free” volitions shows that they are never really free, but always determined by antecedent factors that can be traced to either heredity or adaptation. We cannot, therefore, admit the conventional distinction between nature and spirit. There is spirit everywhere in nature, and we know of no spirit outside of nature. Hence, also, the common antithesis of natural science and mental or moral science is untenable. Every science, as such, is both natural and mental. That is a firm principle of Monism, which, on its religious side, we may also denominate Pantheism. Man is not above, but in, nature.
It is true that the opponents of evolution love to misrepresent the Monistic philosophy based on it as “Materialism,” and confuse the philosophic tendency of this name with a wholly unconnected and despicable moral materialism. Strictly speaking, it would be just as proper to call our system Spiritualism as Materialism. The real Materialistic philosophy affirms that the phenomena of life are, like all other phenomena, effects or products of matter. The opposite extreme, the Spiritualistic philosophy, says, on the contrary, that matter is a product of energy, and that all material forms are produced by free and independent forces. Thus, according to one-sided Materialism, the matter is antecedent to the living force; according to the equally one-sided view of the Spiritist, it is the reverse. Both views are Dualistic, and, in my opinion, both are false. For us the antithesis disappears in the Monistic philosophy, which knows neither matter without force nor force without matter. It is only necessary to reflect for some time over the question from the strictly scientific point of view to see that it is impossible to form a clear idea of either hypothesis. As Goethe said, “Matter can never exist or act without spirit, nor spirit without matter.”
The human “spirit” or “soul” is merely a force or form of energy, inseparably bound up with the material sub-stratum of the body. The thinking force of the mind is just as much connected with the structural elements of the brain as the motor force of the muscles with their structural elements. Our mental powers are functions of the brain as much as any other force is a function of a material body. We know of no matter that is devoid of force, and no forces that are not bound up with matter. When the forces enter into the phenomenon as movements we call them living or active forces; when they are in a state of rest or equilibrium we call them latent or potential. This applies equally to inorganic and organic bodies. The magnet that attracts iron filings, the powder that explodes, the steam that drives the locomotive, are living inorganics; they act by living force as much as the sensitive Mimosa does when it contracts its leaves at touch, or the venerable Amphioxus that buries itself in the sand of the sea, or man when he thinks. Only in the latter cases the combinations of the different forces that appear as “movement” in the
phenomenon are much more intricate and difficult to analyse than in the former.
Our study has led us to the conclusion that in the whole evolution of man, in his embryology and in his phylogeny, there are no living forces at work other than those of the rest of organic and inorganic nature. All the forces that are operative in it could be reduced in the ultimate analysis to growth, the fundamental evolutionary function that brings about the forms of both the organic and the inorganic. But growth itself depends on the attraction and repulsion of homogeneous and heterogeneous particles. Seventy-five years ago Carl Ernst von Baer summed up the general result of his classic studies of animal development in the sentence: “The evolution of the individual is the history of the growth of individuality in every respect.” And if we go deeper to the root of this law of growth, we find that in the long run it can always be reduced to that attraction and repulsion of animated atoms which Empedocles called the “love and hatred” of the elements.
Thus the evolution of man is directed by the same “eternal, iron laws” as the development of any other body. These laws always lead us back to the same simple principles, the elementary principles of physics and chemistry. The various phenomena of nature only differ in the degree of complexity in which the different forces work together. Each single process of adaptation and heredity in the stem-history of our ancestors is in itself a very complex physiological phenomenon. Far more intricate are the processes of human embryology; in these are condensed and comprised thousands of the phylogenetic processes.
In my General Morphology, which appeared in 1866, I made the first attempt to apply the theory of evolution, as reformed by Darwin, to the whole province of biology, and especially to provide with its assistance a mechanical foundation for the science of organic forms. The intimate relations that exist between all parts of organic science, especially the direct causal nexus between the two sections of evolution—ontogeny and phylogeny—were explained in that work for the first time by transformism, and were interpreted philosophically in the light of the theory of descent. The anthropological part of the General Morphology (Book vii) contains the first attempt to determine the series of man’s ancestors (vol. ii, p. 428). However imperfect this attempt was, it provided a starting-point for further investigation. In the thirty-seven years that have since elapsed the biological horizon has been enormously widened; our empirical acquisitions in paleontology, comparative anatomy, and ontogeny have grown to an astonishing extent, thanks to the united efforts of a number of able workers and the employment of better methods. Many important biological questions that then appeared to be obscure enigmas seem to be entirely settled. Darwinism arose like the dawn of a new day of clear Monistic science after the dark night of mystic dogmatism, and we can say now, proudly and gladly, that there is daylight in our field of inquiry.
Philosophers and others, who are equally ignorant of the empirical sources of our evidence and the phylogenetic methods of utilising it, have even lately claimed that in the matter of constructing our genealogical tree nothing more has been done than the discovery of a “gallery of ancestors,” such as we find in the mansions of the nobility. This would be quite true if the genealogy given in the second part of this work were merely the juxtaposition of a series of animal forms, of which we gathered the genetic connection from their external physiognomic resemblances. As we have sufficiently proved already, it is for us a question of a totally different thing—of the morphological and historical proof of the phylogenetic connection of these ancestors on the basis of their identity in internal structure and embryonic development; and I think I have sufficiently shown in the first part of this work how far this is calculated to reveal to us their inner nature and its historical development. I see the essence of its significance precisely in the proof of historical connection. I am one of those scientists who believe in a real “natural history,” and who think as much of an historical knowledge of the past as of an exact investigation of the present. The incalculable value of the historical consciousness cannot be sufficiently emphasised at a time when historical research is ignored and neglected, and when an “exact” school, as dogmatic as it is narrow, would substitute for it physical experiments and mathematical formulæ. Historical knowledge cannot be replaced by any other branch of science.
It is clear that the prejudices that stand in the way of a general recognition of this “natural anthropogeny” are still very great; otherwise the long struggle of philosophic systems would have ended in favour of Monism. But we may confidently expect that a more general acquaintance with the genetic facts will gradually destroy these prejudices, and lead to the triumph of the natural conception of “man’s place in nature.” When we hear it said, in face of this expectation, that this would lead to retrogression in the intellectual and moral development of mankind, I cannot refrain from saying that, in my opinion, it will be just the reverse; that it will promote to an enormous extent the advance of the human mind. All progress in our knowledge of truth means an advance in the higher cultivation of the human intelligence; and all progress in its application to practical life implies a corresponding improvement of morality. The worst enemies of the human race—ignorance and superstition—can only be vanquished by truth and reason. In any case, I hope and desire to have convinced the reader of these chapters that the true scientific comprehension of the human frame can only be attained in the way that we recognise to be the sole sound and effective one in organic science generally—namely, the way of Evolution.
Title and Contents
Vol. II Title and Contents
Glossary
Chapter XXIX
Figs. 1–209
Figs. 210–408