FROM THE CHRISTIAN FATHERS TO KANT.
Inasmuch as almost the entire learning of Europe for several
centuries was under the protection and rule of the church, it is
important that we examine in some detail the fate of evolution at the
hands of that organization.
The early church drew its teachings on the origin and development
of life from two sources--the Book of Genesis, and the philosophies
of Plato and Aristotle. The early Christian Fathers, or at least
the more prominent of them, were very broad-minded in their
interpretations of the “revelations” of the Bible. In the fourth
century, Gregory of Nyassa began a natural interpretation of Genesis
that was completed in that century, and the one following, by
Augustine. Despite the plain statements of the direct, or “special”
creation of all living things, to be found in Genesis, Augustine
promulgated a very different doctrine. He believed that all
development took place according to powers incorporated in matter
by the Creator. Even the body of man himself fitted into this plan,
and was therefore a product of divinely originated, but naturally
accomplished development. Thus Augustine, as Moore says, “distinctly
rejected Special Creation in favor of a doctrine which, without any
violence to language, we may call a theory of Evolution.”
It is particularly interesting to note, in these days when prominent
men go about denouncing the doctrine of organic evolution as
foul, repulsive, and contrary to the will of God, that the early
churchmen were not troubled by such narrowness. Augustine not only
gave up the orthodox statement of special creation; he modified the
conception of time. To him the “days” of Genesis did not mean days
of astronomy; they meant long and indeterminable periods of time.
And it is particularly interesting to find him rebuking those who,
ignorant of the principles underlying nature, seek to explain things
according to the letter of the scriptures. “It is very disgraceful
and mischievous,” says he, “that a Christian speaking of such matters
as being according to the Christian Scriptures should be heard by an
unbeliever talking such nonsense that the unbeliever, perceiving him
to be as wide from the mark as east from west, can hardly restrain
himself from laughing.”
Augustine was followed by some of the later church authorities,
most notably Thomas Aquinas, who lived in the latter part of the
thirteenth century. He did not add to the evolution idea, but rather
expounded the ideas of Augustine. His importance was due to his high
rank as a church authority, not to any ideas which he produced.
During the period between Augustine and Aquinas, however, science
almost died out in Europe, and leadership in philosophy went into
the hands of the Arabs. Between 813 and 833 the works of Aristotle
were translated into Arabic, and they form the basis of the natural
philosophies of the Arabians. Avicenna (980-1037) probably held
a naturalistic theory of evolution, and is known to have been
fundamentally modern in his conceptions of geology. During the tenth
century scientific books were imported into Spain in considerable
numbers, and the Spanish scientific movement culminated in the works
of Avempace and Abubacer (Abn-Badja and Ibn-Tophail). The former held
that there were strong relationships between men, animals, plants,
and minerals, which made them into a closely united whole. Abubacer,
a poet, believed in the spontaneous generation of life, and sketched
in a highly imaginative fashion the development of human thought and
civilization.
But the reactionary trend of church thought during the dark ages
finally attacked and conquered Arabic progress. In 1209 the Church
Provincial Council of Paris forbade the study of Arabic writers,
and even declared against the reading of Aristotle’s “Natural
Philosophy.” During the middle ages the progress backward was carried
to an even greater degree. Men no longer cared to think, or to
discover things; they preferred to be told what they should believe.
This attitude was encouraged by the authorities of the church,
who represented power, and who depended for their easy existence
upon the servility of the people at large. Obedience to authority
in intellectual as well as in political affairs was demanded of
everyone, and by almost everyone was rendered as a matter of course.
Those who by chance made real discoveries, and found that they
contradicted the established authorities, either refused to believe
their own senses, or else feared to publish their information because
of the almost certain prosecution that would follow. To believe
blindly, without analysis or question, was considered right and
proper; to seek knowledge for oneself was a crime that the medieval
church, and her governmental allies, stood ever ready to punish.
But the autocratic enforcement of antiquated dogma, and the serf-like
submission to authority, could not go on forever. A revolution came,
even within the ranks of the theologians themselves. Giordano Bruno
(1548-1600) revived the teachings of Aristotle, and combined them
with theories, and combined them with ideas secured by omnivorous
reading of Greek, Arabic, and Oriental writings. He undoubtedly had
some conception of evolution, compares the intelligence of man and
various of the lower animals, and recognizes a physical relationship
between them. In geology he was essentially modern, arguing against
the six thousand years of Bible chronology, and maintaining that
conditions of his day were the same, fundamentally, as those during
ancient periods of the earth’s history--a doctrine which he probably
borrowed from the Arabian, Avicenna.
Before considering others of the philosophers who became, during the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the sponsors of the evolution
idea, we may well pause to glance at the general state of learning
throughout Europe at the beginning of that period. Just as any idea
is a product of the men who advocate it, so is its development
dependant upon the state of culture in the regions where it is being
fostered. We must, therefore, consider the outstanding features of
that environment in order to understand the true significance of the
progress made along the line in which we are principally interested.
Universities in Europe were founded at the beginning of the twelfth
century, following those established by the Arabs[2]. Oxford, the
most noted university of England, was founded about a century later.
For a long time after this, authority still held almost unchallenged
sway. Naturalists were mainly compilers, repeating what had been
said and done before them, and carefully avoiding anything new. But
in the first half of the sixteenth century there sprang up, in the
Italian university town of Padua, an important school of anatomy. In
1619 Harvey, an English physiologist, discovered[3] the circulation
of blood, and applied the method of experimental study in zoology.
This one piece of work was of far more importance than all of his
contributions to physiology--of which he is usually considered the
real founder--for it gave to scientists the one almost infallible
method of securing information. In the latter half of the seventeenth
century the study of microscopic organisms was begun, and the
foundations of a logical classification of animals was laid by Ray.
It was during these two centuries of progress that the basis of our
modern methods of evolutionary investigation was laid. Oddly enough,
this was done, not by the naturalists of the time, but by the natural
philosophers, such as Bacon and Leibnitz. They found their source
of inspiration in the Greek literature, especially the writings of
Aristotle, incorporating material offered by the leading naturalists
of their times. Probably their biggest contribution was in giving
a proper direction to evolutionary research; they saw clearly that
the important thing was not what had taken place among animals, but
what changes and variations were going on under the very eyes of the
investigators. By establishing the fact that evolution was nothing
more than individual variations on a stupendously large scale,
they brought variation into prominence and laid the foundation for
Darwin’s final triumph.
The second great achievement of the philosophers was their proof
of the principle of natural causation. From Bacon, the earliest,
to Kant, one of the last of these workers, this principle was the
object of continued study and enthusiasm. Each of them believed that
the world, and in fact, the universe was governed by natural causes
instead of by the constant interference of a man-like Creator. Of
course, this attitude was hailed as the rankest heterodoxy, and was
under the ban of the church. Nevertheless, it prevailed, and has
stood as a pillar of all natural philosophy of the present day.
Francis Bacon (1561-1626) was the first of the natural philosophers
of later-day Europe. He was familiar with the Greek science, but
revolted strongly against the authority given it. So radical was his
attitude that he went to wholly unjustifiable lengths in attacking
the Greeks, calling them “children ... prone to talking and incapable
of generation.” This enmity may partly explain Bacon’s failure to put
into practice the excellent ideas which he voiced in his epigrams,
maxims, and aphorisms. He did, it is true, suggest the means whereby
the natural causes of which he wrote might be discovered, but he did
little investigation himself. Bacon was too near the reactionarism
of the middle ages to consistently practice the inductive method of
study, and as a result his work was not of lasting value.
The rebellion of Bacon in England was followed by that of Descartes
in France, and Leibnitz in Germany. The latter philosopher did
much to revive the teachings of Aristotle, likening the series of
animals to a chain, each form representing a link. This conception,
while good enough in Aristotle’s time, was out of date when revived
by Leibnitz, and did much to hamper a true interpretation of the
evolutionary sequence. As we shall see more than once in this study,
scientific ideas are not like statues or paintings, things of
permanent and immutable value. An idea that was good, and valuable,
a hundred years ago may be neither today, and its revival would work
distinct harm to knowledge. The “faddism” against which enemies of
science complain is neither harmful nor iniquitous. An idea should
be used to its utmost as long as it represents the height of our
knowledge; then, when it has been replaced by new information which
is an outgrowth of itself, should be relegated to the museum of
scientific antiquities. An ancient, worn-out idea is just as harmful
in science as it is in politics; the sooner it is done away with, the
better for all concerned.
One of the most important, and at the same time, most puzzling, of
the German natural philosophers was Emmanuel Kant (1724-1804). When
thirty-one years of age Kant published a book entitled, “The General
History of Nature and Theory of the Heavens,” in which he attempted
to harmonize the mechanical and teleological views of nature. He
considered nature as being under the guidance of exclusively natural
causes, a very advanced position when compared with the teological
conceptions of other Germans. But in his critical work, “The
Teological Faculty of Judgment,” published in 1790, he abandoned his
progressive views on causation, dividing nature into the ‘inorganic,’
in which natural causes hold good, and the ‘organic,’ in which the
teleological principle prevails. He called to the support of this
conception the discoveries of the then new science of paleontology,
saying that the student of fossils must of necessity admit the
existence of a careful, purposive organization throughout both the
plant and animal kingdoms. That this assertion was unfounded is
shown by the fact that not a few modern paleontologists are strong
defenders of rationalism and the mechanistic conception of all life
activities.
But in spite of the fact that Kant was so awed by the immensity of
the problem of organic evolution that he declared it impossible of
solution, he nevertheless declared himself in favor of the careful
study of all evidence bearing upon it. In a most striking passage,
quoted by Schultze and Osborn[4], he says:
“It is desirable to examine the great domain of organized beings
by means of a methodical comparative anatomy, or order to discover
whether we may not find in them something resembling a system, and
that too in connection with their mode of generation, so that we may
not be compelled to stope short with a mere consideration of forms as
they are ... and need not despair of gaining a full insight into this
department of nature. The agreement of so many kinds of animals in a
certain common plan of structure, which seems to be visible not only
in their skeletons, but also in the arrangement of the other parts
... gives us a ray of hope, though feeble, that here perhaps some
results may be obtained by the application of the principle of the
mechanism of Nature, without which, in fact, no science can exist.
This analogy of forms strengthens the supposition that they have an
actual blood relationship, due to derivation from a common parent;
a supposition which is arrived at by observation of the graduated
approximation of one class of animals to another.” He goes on to
say that there is an unbroken chain extending from man to the lowest
animals, from animals to plants, and from plants to the inorganic
matter of which the earth is composed. And yet the man who, in 1790,
could give so clear an outline of the basic facts of evolution, was
unable to believe that the sequence which he perceived would ever be
understood! For in another passage he says:
“It is quite certain that we cannot become sufficiently acquainted
with organized creatures and their hidden potentialities by aid of
purely mechanical natural principles, much less can we explain them;
and this is so certain, that we may boldly assert that it is absurd
for man even to conceive such an idea, or to hope that a Newton
may one day arise to make even the production of a blade of grass
comprehensible, according to natural laws ordained by no intention;
such an insight we must absolutely deny to man[5].”
Perhaps the production of a blade of grass is not yet thoroughly
comprehensible to us, but certainly the essential steps leading to
that production are now well known. Even at the time Kant wrote there
lived a man who did much to render the explanation possible, and
another who, though disbelieving in evolution of any sort, perfected
the means by which evolutionists were to arrange and label the
members of the animal and plant kingdoms in order to make the study
of them orderly and comprehensible. The great philosopher’s passion
for accuracy, although an unusual and most creditable character in an
age noted for its loose thought and wild speculation, prevented him
from seeing the great significance of his own work. When man is able
to comprehend a problem, and to state it in clear, accurate language,
the solution of that problem is almost assured. The final triumph may
be years, or even centuries away, but its eventual coming need hardly
be questioned.