CHAPTER IV.

EVOLUTION AND THE GREAT NATURALISTS.

One of the outstanding figures of zoology, and for that matter, of

all natural science is Carl von Linne, more commonly known as Carolus

Linnaeus[8]. For many years naturalists had been struggling to

establish a satisfactory system of naming and arranging the various

forms of animals, plants and fossils, but without very definite

or satisfactory results. Linnaeus devised a very simple method of

naming organisms--one that is followed almost without modification

even today. He chose Latin and ancient Greek as the languages in

which the names should be cast, primarily because both of them were

more or less familiar to all students of his day, and neither was an

important language of modern times. The name itself was in two parts,

one denoting the particular species, the other the group to which

that species belonged. Thus the common chipping sparrow is _Spizella

socialis_, just as a man is William Jones, or James Thompson. The

only difference is that in Linnaeus’ system of naming, the family

name comes first; if the same plan were used in human names William

Jones would become Jones William. This may sound awkward, but as a

matter of fact it is extremely convenient, just as in a directory or

telephone book it is convenient to have the family name given first.

In the early editions of Linnaeus’ great work, the “Systema Naturae”

(System of Nature), published from 1735 to 1751, the great naturalist

stated specifically that he believed in the absolute fixity of

species from the time of their creation, according to the literal

interpretation of Genesis. But Linnaeus was too close a student

to hold this idea for long, and in his edition of 1762 we find

him expressing the opinion that many new species arose from the

interbreeding of those originally created. However, he maintained

that only species originated in this manner, and attributed the more

general resemblances of animals and plants to similarities of form

implanted by the Creator. Plainly, therefore, Linnaeus was at heart

a believer in special creation in a very slightly restricted sense,

and was by no means as progressive in this respect as the old Greek

philosopher Aristotle.

Foremost among the contemporaries of Linnaeus was George Buffon,

(1707-1788), the Frenchman whom Osborn has called the “naturalist

founder of the modern applied form of the evolutionary theory.”

During his early work Buffon held essentially the same views as his

contemporary, Linnaeus, stating that the species of animals were

separated by a gap which could not be bridged, and that everywhere

were evidences of “the Creator, dictating his simple but beautiful

laws and impressing upon each species its immutable characters.”

As early as 1755, however, Buffon found that his studies in

comparative anatomy placed many difficulties in the way of these

“simple but beautiful laws” and “immutable characters.” He calls

attention to the fact that the pig is plainly the “compound of

other animals,” possessing many parts for which it has no use, and

concludes that “Nature is far from subjecting herself to final causes

in the formation of her creatures,” and that by continually searching

for such causes men “deprive philosophy of its true character, and

misrepresent its object, which consists in the knowledge of the

‘how’ of things.” In 1761 he acknowledged a belief in the frequent

modification of species, but believed that some animals were much

more subject to variation than others. He understood the struggle

for existence, with its consequent elimination of the species least

capable of living under unfavorable circumstances, and stated it very

clearly.

One of the most interesting portions of Buffon’s evolutionary

philosophy was his belief that external conditions could directly

modify the structure of animals and plants, and that these

modifications were hereditary. This was, in essence, the theory of

transmission of acquired characters--a theory which was to be greatly

elaborated by one of Buffon’s successors, and which was to cause

trouble among evolutionists for many decades. Buffon applied it

particularly to the animals of the western hemisphere, showing how

they were changed by climate, food, etc., so that eventually animals

coming from the eastern hemisphere to the western[9] would become

new species. In this connection he emphasizes the fact, also pointed

out by Kant, that man must study the changes taking place in his own

period in order to understand those which have been accomplished in

the past, and might be accomplished in the future.

Even at the time when he believed most thoroughly in evolution and

variation, Buffon was troubled by the Bible account of creation,

and wavered between the two. Some time after 1766 he abandoned his

advanced stand on evolution, and concluded that species were neither

static nor changeable, but instead that “specific types could assume

a great variety of forms[10],” and that no definite assertions might

be made regarding the origin of any particular animal or plant.

One cannot but wonder what was the cause for Buffon’s confusion

and changes of attitude. From special creationist to radical

evolutionist, and then to conservative occupying a position halfway

between was a remarkable mental evolution to be covered in the space

of less than sixty years. What was the cause of it?

The answer to this question is not a difficult one. Buffon was a

pioneer, and not an overly courageous one. He was staggered by the

immensity of the problem which he was trying to solve, and at the

same time, fettered by the orthodox ideas of his day. And back of

those ideas, as Buffon well knew, there was power--power of the

church, of society, and of the scientific world. And neither the

church, society, nor science was ready to accept the doctrine of

descent, of organic evolution. Linnaeus, as we have seen, was easily

the greatest and most influential zoologist of his day, and was at

the same time a strong anti-evolutionist. His influence was so great

that Buffon could hardly have escaped it, and this probably added to

the difficulties of the vacillating evolutionist.

And so, when we considered the difficulties under which Buffon

worked, we are not surprised that he found it hard to discover what

his ideas on evolution should finally be. He was evidently no hero,

willing to become a martyr for science, nor yet a dogmatist, willing

to lay his own ideas down as law. Instead of ridiculing him for

his indecision, therefore, we should sympathize with him because

of his difficulties. Probably few of us would say or write very

revolutionary things if we were loaded down with half-shed orthodoxy,

and threatened by social and scientific ostracism in case we made a

departure from the well beaten path.

The next important figure in evolution is Erasmus Darwin, grandfather

of the great Charles Darwin. He was a country physician, a poet, and

a very accurate naturalist, but unfortunately buried his ideas in

volumes of verse and of combined medicine and philosophy. He believed

in the spontaneous origin of the lower animals, but maintained that

all of the higher forms were products of natural reproduction. The

transition from water-to-land-dwelling animals he illustrated, not by

fanciful creations, but by the classic example of the development of

the frog, which begins life as a legless tadpole, and ends it as an

animal incapable of breathing under water.

To man Dr. Darwin gave much attention, devoting a whole canto to

the human hand--“The hand, first gift of Heaven!”--and outlining

the development of man’s various faculties. Farther on he describes

the struggle for existence in lines which remind one of Tennyson’s

description of nature, except that they lack Tennyson’s inevitable

syrupiness. Evidently, however, Darwin fails to connect this struggle

with its obvious result, the survival of the fittest.

Dr. Darwin’s theory of evolution differed from that of Buffon

in at least one important respect. Nowhere does he stress the

direct influence of environment in the production of variations;

on the contrary, he maintained that modifications spring from the

reactions of the organism. In this he clearly stated the theory

which is generally known as Lamarck’s version of the theory of the

transmission of acquired characters. In fact, he carried his ideas

much farther than did Lamarck, attributing to plants the attribute

of sendibility, and supposed their evolution to be due to their own

efforts toward the development of certain characters. Adaptations,

which Aristotle had believed to be caused by a definite plan, Dr.

Darwin interpreted in a purely naturalistic manner. The Creator

had, at the beginning, endowed organisms with the power to change

and develop, and that power was handed down from one generation

to another until it was possessed by every animal and plant. This

power was the cause of all variation, adaptation, and evolution, and

there was no further divine interference. Dr. Darwin did not see any

great, all-encompassing plan of improvement, such as is postulated

by the teleologists of today; to him everything was the logical and

necessary outcome of the original powers of living things. In this,

as we shall see, he believed essentially as do modern evolutionists

who do not see in the laws of the universe any necessity for

abandoning religion, but who at the same time do not believe in a

highly personal god who, as one theologian expressed it recently,

“works out His divine will through the processes of evolution.”

Dr. Darwin was author of two other distinctly modern ideas, among the

most important of his entire work. The first of these is that all

living things are descended from a single original living mass, or

“filament”--that every living thing on the earth is related to every

other living thing. The second is that the process of evolution is

almost inconceivably slow, and that millions upon millions of years

have been necessary for it. The first idea, while quite conceivably

true, can never be proved definitely, but the second has been

demonstrated over and over again. Just how many millions we shall

allow is, of course, undetermined; some authorities demand sixty;

others say that eight hundred is a figure none too large. In this

series of books the larger figure is adopted, not because we are

certain that it is right, but because it seems to fit more closely

with the facts of evolution than do the smaller ones. How fully Dr.

Darwin was a prophet of modern scientific chronology we are just

beginning to recognize.

The leadership in evolution, which for a time had gone to England,

was soon given back to France. The new champion of the theory

was Jean Baptiste Lamarck (1744-1829), one of the most pathetic

figures in the entire history of zoology. He was a brilliant man,

and a skilled zoologist, but because he was courageous, blind,

and desperately poor, he suffered little less than martyrdom

throughout much of his life, and was given but scant attention by his

contemporaries. Baron Cuvier, rich, talented, and a member of the

elite of the nation, dominated French zoology. He was a desperate

reactionary, holding out for a literal acceptance of the Bible

account of special creation, and ridiculed not only the theories of

Lamarck, but the whole conception of evolution. For years he blocked

the progress along all lines but his own restricted field of anatomy,

and waged bitter warfare on anyone who dared to oppose him. And so

the blind Lamarck lived in poverty and obscurity, neglected by both

scientists and those who knew nothing of zoology. And through this he

stood faithfully by the ideas which he believed but was too poor and

unknown to defend.

Lamarck first held to the old teaching that species were fixed, and

could neither change nor be changed. But as he learned more his views

changed, and in 1809 he published a book stating his interpretation

of evolution. One of his principal ideas was that the effects of the

use or disuse of any part of the body may be passed on from parent

to children until they finally become parts of the animal’s make-up.

It is well known that an arm that is never used becomes weak; that a

muscle which is constantly at work becomes strong and large. Lamarck

supposed that this increase or decrease in size could be inherited,

and thus races with short, thin arms, or heavy powerful muscles

could be developed. This is the “theory of inheritance of acquired

characteristics” again, first formulated by Erasmus Darwin. Just

how much there is to this theory no one has been able to say; some

believe it to be worthless while others, particularly those who study

fossil animals, think that it possesses a certain amount of truth.

Lamarck was, as we have said, a conscientious scientist, and made use

of his own accurate observations insofar as this was possible. But

when he became blind, dictating his books to his daughter in order

to get them written, observation was clearly out of the question. In

its stead the great naturalist was forced to rely upon the reports

of other observers, and those reports were none too reliable. The

obvious weakness of some of his second-hand facts reacted very

unfavorably upon the whole work of Lamarck, and gave his opponents

abundant weapons for their attacks upon his opinions.

But in spite of these handicaps, Lamarck did a very important work.

He not only stated his own position very clearly, marshalling such

facts as were at his disposal to its support; he devised a branching

system of animal descent which approximated the modern “evolutionary

tree” and represented far more truly than did the Aristotelian chain

the true state of things. He argued strongly and clearly against

the fallacious doctrine of special creations and numerous geologic

catastrophes which, supposedly, annihilated all of the life on earth

at the particular times of their occurrence and made a long series of

new creations necessary.

Perhaps the greatest of all Lamarck’s achievements was his clear

statements of the problems of evolution. As one writer has said,

he asked every one of the big, important questions which later

evolutionists have had to answer, and by the clear phrasing of his

questions, made the answers thereto the more easy.

* * * * *

In all France there was only one man who was willing to champion

this blind naturalist in his stand for evolution. Geoffrey

St.-Hilaire was at first a follower of Buffon, but he later became

convinced of the value of Lamarck’s work, and even went so far in

his belief as to champion Lamarck in a public debate with the great

Cuvier. Despite the fact that the debate brought a certain fame to

St.-Hilaire, he was judged the loser, and the affair was hailed as

a great and conclusive victory for those who upheld the theory of

special creation.

Although St.-Hilaire believed in the truth of organic evolution, he

did not wholly agree with Lamarck. He supposed that environment--that

is, surrounding conditions--determined the changes that took place

in animals, and preceded some of the most modern of evolutionists by

teaching that one species might arise suddenly from an earlier one,

without any intermediate forms. As a result of these sudden changes,

it was, said St.-Hilaire, often unnecessary to produce the “missing

links” over which adverse critics made such a to-do. It was also

unnecessary to show why variations would not be wiped out before they

were firmly established. According to his hypothesis, each new form

was complete, and no amount of normal interbreeding with other forms

would produce fertile hybrids between the two.

We now come to one of the most interesting, and most remarkable of

evolutionists. Johann Wolfgang Goethe (1749-1832) was an anatomist,

a philosopher, and a great poet, and thus brought to the problem of

organic evolution a breadth of vision equalled by but few of the

workers who preceded him. As Osborn states:

“The brilliant early achievements of Goethe in science afford another

illustration of the union of imagination and powers of observation

as the essential characteristics of the naturalist. When he took his

journey into Italy, and the poetic instinct began to predominate over

the scientific, science lost a disciple who would have ranked among

the very highest, if not the highest. Of this time Goethe says: ‘I

have abandoned my master Loder for my friend Schiller, and Linnaeus

for Shakespeare.’ Yet Goethe, in the midst of poetry, never lost his

passion for scientific studies. He seems to have felt instinctively

that what contemporary science needed was not only observation, but

generalization.”[11]

Goethe derived much of his inspiration from Buffon and the German

natural philosophers. Unfortunately he never discovered the works of

Lamarck, although he anticipated that scientist in some of his work

with plants. There can be little doubt that, had Goethe discovered

the “Philosophie Zoologique,” he would have accepted its principal

doctrine, and would have proclaimed them with a vigor that would

have overcome even the antagonism of Cuvier. As it was, he confined

his theory to the idea of the “unity of type,” making it the chief

basis for his conception of evolution. In his own words, this theory

enabled him to “assert, without hesitation, that all the more perfect

organic natures, such as fishes, amphibious animals, birds, mammals,

and man at the head of the list, were all formed upon one original

type, which varies only more or less in parts which are none the less

permanent, and which still daily changes and modifies its form by

propagation.”

Akin to Goethe, in some respects, was Gottfried Treviranus

(1776-1837), a German naturalist who was a contemporary of

St.-Hilaire, Goethe, and Lamarck. Like the German natural

philosophers, he considered life as the result of chemical and

mechanical processes, and protested whole-heartedly against purely

speculative work, calling it “dreams and visions.” At the same time,

he complained that most of botany and zoology was made up of dry

registers of names and that the work of many naturalists consisted

of the “spirit killing ... reading and writing of compilations.”

Treviranus believed that it was quite within the abilities of man

to discover the basic philosophy of nature, largely by the use of

working hypotheses as a means of aiding the investigator in attaining

the actual facts.

In view of Treviranus’ modern stand on the study of animal life,

and the interpretation of ascertained facts, we might well expect

him to show an equal modernity in his conception of evolution. But

in this we are to be disappointed. As soon as he departed from his

principles of biology, and attempted to apply those principles to

the development of animal life, Treviranus became victim to those

same “dreams and visions” against which he protested so strongly.

He depended very largely upon the work of Buffon, and believed that

modification of form was due entirely to environment. He revived

the ancient doctrine of spontaneous generation of living things, or

abiogenesis, stating his belief very clearly.

All of this shows that Treviranus, although an ardent believer

in evolution, added very little to the idea. In his ideas of the

factors of evolution he did not advance beyond Buffon; in his ideas

of descent he was less clear and accurate than his contemporary,

Lamarck. But in his more general work, particularly in defining

and organizing the science of biology, he rendered great service

to future zoologists and evolutionists. And such service, slight

though it was, was of value. During the early part of the nineteenth

century the doctrine of evolution needed all the support that could

be given it, and even a mistaken scientist was a valuable defender of

a struggling cause.

Thus for more than two thousand years the theory of organic evolution

had been growing. Philosophers, country doctors, poets, and

naturalists had contributed their share to its volume, its character,

and its support. But as yet it was little more than an idea in the

rough, waiting for some one to refine it, to put it into clear and

unmistakable language, and to back it up by evidence secured directly

from studies made on living animals and plants. It might have been

compared to a piece of ---- waiting for someone to forge it into a

key--a key that would open the doors of conventional thought and

old-fashioned restriction, and thereby give an insight into life and

life’s history that would revolutionize human thought, and help in a

better understanding between man and man, and man and beast.

A history of evolution · 第 4 / 6 章