A vastly different and much more stimulating view of life is given by
Henri Bergson in his "Creative Evolution." Though based upon biological
science, it is a philosophical rather than a scientific view, and
appeals to our intuitional and imaginative nature more than to our
constructive reason. M. Bergson interprets the phenomena of life in
terms of spirit, rather than in terms of matter as does Professor Loeb.
The word "creative" is the key-word to his view. Life is a creative
impulse or current which arose in matter at a certain time and place,
and flows through it from form to form, from generation to generation,
augmenting in force as it advances. It is one with spirit, and is
incessant creation; the whole organic world is filled, from bottom to
top, with one tremendous effort. It was long ago felicitously stated by
Whitman in his "Leaves of Grass," "Urge and urge, always the procreant
urge of the world."
This conception of the nature and genesis of life is bound to be
challenged by modern physical science, which, for the most part, sees in
biology only a phase of physics; but the philosophic mind and the
trained literary mind will find in "Creative Evolution" a treasure-house
of inspiring ideas, and engaging forms of original artistic expression.
As Mr. Balfour says, "M. Bergson's 'Evolution Créatrice' is not merely a
philosophical treatise, it has all the charm and all the audacities of a
work of art, and as such defies adequate reproduction."
It delivers us from the hard mechanical conception of determinism, or of
a closed universe which, like a huge manufacturing plant, grinds out
vegetables and animals, minds and spirits, as it grinds out rocks and
soils, gases and fluids, and the inorganic compounds.
With M. Bergson, life is the flowing metamorphosis of the poets,--an
unceasing becoming,--and evolution is a wave of creative energy
overflowing through matter "upon which each visible organism rides
during the short interval of time given it to live." In his view, matter
is held in the iron grip of necessity, but life is freedom itself.
"Before the evolution of life ... the portals of the future remain wide
open. It is a creation that goes on forever in virtue of an initial
movement. This movement constitutes the unity of the organized world--a
prolific unity, of an infinite richness, superior to any that the
intellect could dream of, for the intellect is only one of its aspects
or products."
What a contrast to Herbert Spencer's view of life and evolution!
"Life," says Spencer, "consists of inner action so adjusted as to
balance outer action." True enough, no doubt, but not interesting. If
the philosopher could tell us what it is that brings about the
adjustment, and that profits by it, we should at once prick up our ears.
Of course, it is life. But what is life? It is inner action so adjusted
as to balance outer action!
A recent contemptuous critic of M. Bergson's book, Hugh S. R. Elliot,
points out, as if he were triumphantly vindicating the physico-chemical
theory of the nature and origin of life, what a complete machine a
cabbage is for converting solar energy into chemical and vital
energy--how it takes up the raw material from the soil by a chemical and
mechanical process, how these are brought into contact with the light
and air through the leaves, and thus the cabbage is built up. In like
manner, a man is a machine for converting chemical energy derived from
the food he eats into motion, and the like. As if M. Bergson, or any one
else, would dispute these things! In the same way, a steam-engine is a
machine for converting the energy latent in coal into motion and power;
but what force lies back of the engine, and was active in the
construction?
The final question of the cabbage and the man still remains--Where did
you get them?
You assume vitality to start with--how did you get it? Did it arise
spontaneously out of dead matter? Mechanical and chemical forces do all
the work of the living body, but who or what controls and directs them,
so that one compounding of the elements begets a cabbage, and another
compounding of the same elements begets an oak--one mixture of them and
we have a frog, another and we have a man? Is there not room here for
something besides blind, indifferent forces? If we make the molecules
themselves creative, then we are begging the question. The creative
energy by any other name remains the same.