Chapter V: Preface (2)

"There is no exception to the rule that every organic being naturally increases at so high a rate that, if not destroyed, the earth would soon be covered by the progeny of a single pair. Even slow-breeding man has doubled in twenty-five years, and at this rate, in a few thousand years, there would literally not be standing-room for his progeny. Linnaeus has calculated that if an annual plant produced only two seeds--and there is no plant so unproductive as this--and their seedlings next year produced two, and so on, then in twenty years there would be a million plants. The elephant is reckoned to be the slowest breeder of all known animals, and I have taken some pains to estimate its pro!)able minimum rate of natural increase; it will be under the mark to assume that it breeds when thirty years old, and goes on breeding till ninety years old, bringing forth three pairs of young in this interval; if this be so, at the end of the fifth century there would be alive fifteen million elephants, descended from the first pair.

"But we have better evidence on this subject than mere theoretical calculations, namely, the numerous recorded cases of the astonishingly rapid increase of various animals in a state of nature, when circumstances have been favorable to them during two or three following seasons. Still more striking is the evidence from our domestic animals of many kinds which have run wild in several parts of the world; if the statements of the rate of increase of slow-breeding cattle and horses in South America, and latterly in Australia, had not been well authenticated, they would have been quite incredible. So it is with plants: cases could be given of introduced plants which have become common throughout whole islands in a period of less than ten years. Several of the plants now most numerous over the wide plains of La Plata, clothing square leagues of surface almost to the exclusion of all other plants, have been introduced from Europe; and there are plants which now range in India, as I hear from Dr. Falconer, from Cape Comorin to the Himalaya, which have been imported from America since its discovery. In such cases, and endless instances could be given, no one supposes that the fertility of these animals or plants has been suddenly and temporarily increased in any sensible degree. The obvious explanation is, that the conditions of life have been very favorable, and that there has consequently been less destruction of the old and young, and that nearly all the young have been enabled to breed. In such cases the geometrical ratio of increase, the result of which never fails to be surprising, simply explains the extraordinarily rapid increase and wide diffusion of naturalized productions in their new homes."--(pp. 64, 65.)

"All plants and animals are tending to increase at a geometrical ratio; all would most rapidly stock any station in which they could anyhow exist; the increase must be checked by destruction at some period of life."--(p. 65.)

The difference between the most and the least prolific species is of no account:

"The condor lays a couple of eggs, and the ostrich a score; and yet in the same country the condor may be the more numerous of the two. The Fulmar petrel lays but one egg, yet it is believed to be the most numerous bird in the world."--(p. 68.)

"The amount of food gives the extreme limit to which each species can increase; but very frequently it is not the obtaining of food, but the serving as prey to other animals, which determines the average numbers of species."--(p. 68.)

"Climate plays an important part in determining the average numbers of a species, and periodical seasons of extreme cold or drought I believe to be the most effective of all checks. I estimated that the winter of 1854--'55 destroyed four-fifths of the birds in my own grounds; and this is a tremendous destruction, when we remember that ten per cent, is an extraordinarily severe mortality from epidemics with man. The action of climate seems at first sight to be quite independent of the struggle for existence; but, in so far as climate chiefly acts in reducing food, it brings on the most severe struggle between the individuals, whether of the same or of distinct species, which subsist on the same kind of food, Even when climate, for instance extreme cold, acts directly, it will be the least vigorous, or those which have got least food through the advancing winter, which will suffer most. When we travel from south to north, or from a damp region to a dry, we invariably see some species gradually getting rarer and rarer, and finally disappearing; and, the change of climate being conspicuous, we are tempted to attribute the whole effect to its direct action. But this is a very false view; we forget that each species, even where it most abounds, is constantly suffering enormous destruction at some period of its life, from enemies or from competitors for the same place and food; and if these enemies or competitors be in the least degree favored by any slight change of climate, they will increase in numbers, and, as each area is already stocked with inhabitants, the other species will decrease. When we travel southward and see a species decreasing in numbers, we may feel sure that the cause lies quite as much in other species being favored as in this one being hurt. So it is when we travel northward, but in a somewhat lesser degree, for the number of species of all kinds, and therefore of competitors, decreases northward; hence, in going northward, or in ascending a mountain, we far oftener meet with stunted forms, due to the directly injurious action of climate, than we do in proceeding southward or in descending a mountain. When we reach the arctic regions, or snow-capped summits, or absolute deserts, the struggle for life is almost exclusively with the elements.

"That climate acts in main part indirectly by favoring other species, we may clearly see in the prodigious number of plants in our gardens which can perfectly well endure our climate, but which never become naturalized, for they cannot compete with our native plants, nor resist destruction by our native animals."--(pp. 68, 69.)

After an instructive instance in which "cattle absolutely determine the existence of the Scotch fir," we are referred to cases in which insects determine the existence of cattle:

"Perhaps Paraguay offers the most curious instance of this; for here neither cattle, nor horses, nor dogs, have ever run wild, though they swarm southward and northward in a feral state; and Azara and Rengger have shown that this is caused by the greater number in Paraguay of a certain fly, which lays its eggs in the navels of these animals when first born. The increase of these flies, numerous as they are, must be habitually checked by some means, probably by birds. Hence, if certain insectivorous birds (whose numbers are probably regulated by hawks or beasts of prey) were to increase in Paraguay, the flies would decrease--then cattle and horses would become feral, and this would certainly greatly alter (as indeed I have observed in parts of South America) the vegetation; this, again, would largely affect the insects; and this, as we have just seen in Staffordshire, the insectivorous birds, and so onward in ever-increasing circles of complexity. We began this series by insectivorous birds, and we had ended with them. Not that in Nature the relations can ever be as simple as this. Battle within battle must ever be recurring with varying success; and yet in the long-run the forces are so nicely balanced that the face of Nature remains uniform for long periods of time, though assuredly the merest trifle would often give the victory to one organic being over another. Nevertheless, so profound is our ignorance, and so high our presumption, that we marvel when we hear of the extinction of an organic being; and as we do not see the cause, we invoke cataclysms to desolate the world, or invent laws on the duration of the forms of life!"--(pp. 72, 73.)

"When we look at the plants and bushes clothing an entangled bank, we arc tempted to attribute their proportional numbers and kinds to what we call chance. But how false a view is this! Every one has heard that when an American forest is cut down, a very different vegetation springs up; but it has been observed that the trees now growing on the ancient Indian mounds, in the Southern United States, display the same beautiful diversity and proportion of kinds as in the surrounding virgin forests. What a struggle between the several kinds of trees must here have gone on during long centuries, each annually scattering its seeds by the thousand; what war between insect and insect--between insects, snails, and other animals, with birds and beasts of prey--all striving to increase, and all feeding on each other or on the trees, or their seeds and seedlings, or on the other plants which first clothed the ground and thus checked the growth of the trees! Throw up a handful of feathers, and all must fall to the ground according to definite laws; but how simple is this problem compared to the action and reaction of the innumerable plants and animals which have determined, in the course of centuries, the proportional numbers and kinds of trees now growing on the old Indian ruins!"--(pp. 74, 75.)

For reasons obvious upon reflection, the competition is often, if not generally, most severe between nearly related species when they are in contact, so that one drives the other before it, as the Hanoverian the old English rat, the small Asiatic cockroach in Russia, its greater congener, etc. And this, when duly considered, explains many curious results; such, for instance, as the considerable number of different genera of plants and animals which are generally found to inhabit any limited area.

"The truth of the principle that the greatest amount of life can be supported by great diversification of structure is seen under many natural circumstances. In an extremely small area, especially if freely open to immigration, and where the contest between individual and individual must be severe, we always find great diversity in its inhabitants. For instance, I found that a piece of turf, three feet by four in size, which had been exposed for many years to exactly the same conditions, supported twenty species of plants, and these belonged to eighteen genera, and to eight orders, which showed how much these plants differed from each other. So it is with the plants and insects on small and uniform islets; and so in small ponds of fresh water. Farmers find that they can raise most food by a rotation of plants belonging to the most different orders; Nature follows what may be called a simultaneous rotation. Most of the animals and plants which live close round any small piece of ground could live on it (supposing it not to be in any way peculiar in its nature), and may be said to be striving to the utmost to live there; but it is seen that, where they come into the closest competition with each other, the advantages of diversification of structure, with the accompanying differences of habit and constitution, determine that the inhabitants, which thus jostle each other most closely, shall, as a general rule, belong to what we call different genera and orders."--(p. 114.)

The abundance of some forms, the rarity and final extinction of many others, and the consequent divergence of character or increase of difference among the surviving representatives, are other consequences. As favored forms increase, the less favored must diminish in number, for there is not room for all; and the slightest advantage, at first probably inappreciable to human observation, must decide which shall prevail and which must perish, or be driven to another and for it more favorable locality.

We cannot do justice to the interesting chapter upon natural selection by separated extracts. The following must serve to show how the principle is supposed to work:

"If during the long course of ages, and under varying conditions of life, organic beings vary at all in the several parts of their organization, and I think this cannot be disputed; if there be, owing to the high geometrical powers of increase of each species, at some age, season, or year, a severe struggle for life, and this certainly cannot be disputed: then, considering the infinite complexity of the relations of all organic beings to each other and to their conditions of existence, causing an infinite diversity in structure, constitution, and habits, to be advantageous to them, I think it would be a most extraordinary fact if no variation ever had occurred useful to each being's own welfare, in the same way as so many variations have occurred useful to man. But if variations useful to any organic being do occur, assuredly individuals thus characterized will have the best chance of being preserved in the struggle for life; and from the strong principle of inheritance they will tend to produce offspring similarly characterized. This principle of preservation I have called, for the sake of brevity, Natural Selection."--(pp. 126, 127.)

"In order to make it clear how, as I believe, natural selection acts, I must beg permission to give one or two imaginary illustrations. Let us take the case of a wolf, which preys on various animals, securing some by craft, some by strength, and some by fleetness; and let us suppose that the fleetest prey, a deer for instance, had from any change in the country increased in numbers, or that other prey had decreased in numbers, during that season of the year when the wolf is hardest pressed for food. I can under such circumstances see no reason to doubt that the swiftest and slimmest wolves would have the best chance of surviving, and so be preserved or selected--provided always that they retained strength to master their prey at this or at some other period of the year, when they might be compelled to prey on other animals. I can see no more reason to doubt this than that man can improve the fleetness of his greyhounds by careful and methodical selection, or by that unconscious selection which results from each man trying to keep the best dogs without any thought of modifying the breed.

"Even without any change in the proportional numbers of the animals on which our wolf preyed, a cub might be born with an innate tendency to pursue certain kinds of prey. Nor can this be thought very improbable; for we often observe great differences in the natural tendencies of our domestic animals: one cat, for instance, taking to catching rats, another mice; one cat, according to Mr. St. John, bringing home winged game, another hares or rabbits, and another hunting on marshy ground!, and almost nightly catching woodcocks or snipes. The tendency to catch rats rather than mice is known to be inherited. Now, if any slight innate change of habit or of structure benefited an individual wolf, it would have the best chance of surviving and of leaving offspring. Some of its young would probably inherit the same habits or structure, and by the repetition of this process a new variety might be formed which would either supplant or coexist with the parent-form of wolf. Or, again, the wolves inhabiting a mountainous district, and those frequenting the lowlands, would naturally be forced to hunt different prey; and from a continued preservation of the individuals best fitted for the two sites, two varieties might slowly be formed. These varieties would cross and blend where they met; but to this subject of intercrossing we shall soon have to return. I may add that, according to Mr. Pierce, there are two varieties of the wolf inhabiting the Catskill Mountains in the United States, one with a light greyhound-like form, which pursues deer, and the other more bulky, with shorter legs, which more frequently attacks the shepherd's flock."--(pp. 90, 91.)

We eke out the illustration here with a counterpart instance, viz., the remark of Dr. Bachman that "the deer that reside permanently in the swamps of Carolina are taller and longer-legged than those in the higher grounds." [I-10]

The limits allotted to this article are nearly reached, yet only four of the fourteen chapters of the volume have been touched. These, however, contain the fundamental principles of the theory, and most of those applications of it which are capable of something like verification, relating as they do to the phenomena now occurring. Some of our extracts also show how these principles are thought to have operated through the long lapse of the ages. The chapters from the sixth to the ninth inclusive are designed to obviate difficulties and objections, "some of them so grave that to this day," the author frankly says, he "can never reflect on them without being staggered." We do not wonder at it. After drawing what comfort he can from "the imperfection of the geological record" (Chapter IX), which we suspect is scarcely exaggerated, the author considers the geological succession of organic beings (Chapter X), to see whether they better accord with the common view of the immutability of species, or with that of their slow and gradual modification. Geologists must settle that question. Then follow two most interesting and able chapters on the geographical distribution of plants and animals, the summary of which we should be glad to cite; then a fitting chapter upon classification, morphology, embryology, etc., as viewed in the light of this theory, closes the argument; the fourteenth chapter being a recapitulation.

The interest for the general reader heightens as the author advances on his perilous way and grapples manfully with the most formidable difficulties.

To account, upon these principles, for the gradual elimination and segregation of nearly allied forms--such as varieties, sub-species, and closely-related or representative species--also in a general way for their geographical association and present range, is comparatively easy, is apparently within the bounds of possibility. Could we stop here we should be fairly contented. But, to complete the system, to carry out the principles to their ultimate conclusion, and to explain by them many facts in geographical distribution which would still remain anomalous, Mr. Darwin is equally bound to account for the formation of genera, families, orders, and even classes, by natural selection. He does "not doubt that the theory of descent with modification embraces all the members of the same class," and he concedes that analogy would press the conclusion still further; while he admits that "the more distinct the forms are, the more the arguments fall away in force." To command assent we naturally require decreasing probability to be overbalanced by an increased weight of evidence. An opponent might plausibly, and perhaps quite fairly, urge that the links in the chain of argument are weakest just where the greatest stress falls upon them.

To which Mr. Darwin's answer is, that the best parts of the testimony have been lost. He is confident that intermediate forms must have existed; that in the olden times when the genera, the families, and the orders, diverged from their parent stocks, gradations existed as fine as those which now connect closely related species with varieties. But they have passed and left no sign. The geological record, even if all displayed to view, is a book from which not only many pages, but even whole alternate chapters, have been lost out, or rather which were never printed from the autographs of Nature. The record was actually made in fossil lithography only at certain times and under certain conditions (i.e., at periods of slow subsidence and places of abundant sediment); and of these records all but the last volume is out of print; and of its pages only local glimpses have been obtained. Geologists, except Lyell, will object to this--some of them moderately, others with vehemence. Mr. Darwin himself admits, with a candor rarely displayed on such occasions, that he should have expected more geological evidence of transition than he finds, and that all the most eminent paleontologists maintain the immutability of species.

The general fact, however, that the fossil fauna of each period as a whole is nearly intermediate in character between the preceding and the succeeding faunas, is much relied on. We are brought one step nearer to the desired inference by the similar "fact, insisted on by all paleontologists, that fossils from two consecutive formations are far more closely related to each other than are the fossils of two remote formations. Pictet gives a well-known instance--the general resemblance of the organic remains from the several stages of the chalk formation, though the species are distinct at each stage. This fact alone, from its generality, seems to have shaken Prof. Pictet in his firm belief in the immutability of species" (p. 335). What Mr. Darwin now particularly wants to complete his inferential evidence is a proof that the same gradation may be traced in later periods, say in the Tertiary, and between that period and the present; also that the later gradations are finer, so as to leave it doubtful whether the succession is one of species--believed on the one theory to be independent, on the other, derivative--or of varieties, which are confessedly derivative. The proof of the finer gradation appears to be forthcoming. Des Hayes and Lyell have concluded that many of the middle Tertiary and a large proportion of the later Tertiary mollusca are specifically identical with living species; and this is still the almost universally prevalent view. But Mr. Agassiz states that, "in every instance where he had sufficient materials, he had found that the species of the two epochs supposed to be identical by Des Hayes and Lyell were in reality distinct, although closely allied species."[I-11] Moreover, he is now satisfied, as we understand, that the same gradation is traceable not merely in each great division of the Tertiary, but in particular deposits or successive beds, each answering to a great number of years; where what have passed unquestioned as members of one species, upon closer examination of numerous specimens exhibit differences which in his opinion entitle them to be distinguished into two, three, or more species. It is plain, therefore, that whatever conclusions can be fairly drawn from the present animal and vegetable kingdoms in favor of a gradation of varieties into species, or into what may be regarded as such, the same may be extended to the Tertiary period. In both cases, what some call species others call varieties; and in the later Tertiary shells this difference in judgment affects almost half of the species!

We pass to a second difficulty in the way of Mr. Darwin's theory; to a case where we are perhaps entitled to demand of him evidence of gradation like that which connects the present with the Tertiary mollusca. Wide, very wide is the gap, anatomically and physiologically (we do not speak of the intellectual) between the highest quadrumana and man; and comparatively recent, if ever, must the line have bifurcated. But where is there the slightest evidence of a common progenitor? Perhaps Mr. Darwin would reply by another question: where are the fossil remains of the men who made the flint knives and arrowheads of the Somme Valley?

We have a third objection, one, fortunately, which has nothing to do with geology. We can only state it here in brief terms. The chapter on hybridism is most ingenious, able, and instructive. If sterility of crosses is a special original arrangement to prevent the confusion of species by mingling, as is generally assumed, then, since varieties cross readily and their offspring is fertile inter se, there is a fundamental distinction between varieties and species. Mr. Darwin therefore labors to show that it is not a special endowment, but an incidental acquirement. He does show that the sterility of crosses is of all degrees; upon which we have only to say, Natura non facit saltum, here any more than elsewhere. But, upon his theory he is bound to show how sterility might be acquired, through natural selection or through something else. And the difficulty is, that, whereas individuals of the very same blood tend to be sterile, and somewhat remoter unions diminish this tendency, and when they have diverged into two varieties the cross-breeds between the two are more fertile than either pure stock--yet when they have diverged only one degree more the whole tendency is reversed, and the mongrel is sterile, either absolutely or relatively. He who explains the genesis of species through purely natural agencies should assign a natural cause for this remarkable result; and this Mr. Darwin has not done. Whether original or derived, however, this arrangement to keep apart those forms which have, or have acquired (as the case may be), a certain moderate amount of difference, looks to us as much designed for the purpose, as does a rachet to prevent reverse motion in a wheel. If species have originated by divergence, this keeps them apart.

Here let us suggest a possibly attainable test of the theory of derivation, a kind of instance which Mr. Darwin may be fairly asked to produce--viz., an instance of two varieties, or what may be assumed as such, which have diverged enough to reverse the movement, to bring out some sterility in the crosses. The best marked human races might offer the most likely case. If mulattoes are sterile or tend to sterility, as some naturalists confidently assert, they afford Mr. Darwin a case in point. If, as others think, no such tendency is made out, the required evidence is wanting.

A fourth and the most formidable difficulty is that of the production and specialization of organs.

It is well said that all organic beings have been formed on two great laws: unity of type, and adaptation to the conditions of existence.[I-12] The special teleologists, such as Paley, occupy themselves with the latter only; they refer particular facts to special design, but leave an overwhelming array of the widest facts inexplicable. The morphologists build on unity of type, or that fundamental agreement in the structure of each great class of beings which is quite independent of their habits or conditions of life; which requires each individual "to go through a certain formality," and to accept, at least for a time, certain organs, whether they are of any use to him or not. Philosophical minds form various conceptions for harmonizing the two views theoretically. Mr. Darwin harmonizes and explains them naturally. Adaptation to the conditions of existence is the result of natural selection; unity of type, of unity of descent. Accordingly, as he puts his theory, he is bound to account for the origination of new organs, and for their diversity in each great type, for their specialization, and every adaptation of organ to function and of structure to condition, through natural agencies. Whenever he attempts this he reminds us of Lamarck, and shows us how little light the science of a century devoted to structural investigation has thrown upon the mystery of organization. Here purely natural explanations fail. The organs being given, natural selection may account for some improvement; if given of a variety of sorts or grades, natural selection might determine which should survive and where it should prevail.

On all this ground the only line for the theory to take is to make the most of gradation and adherence to type as suggestive of derivation, and unaccountable upon any other scientific view--deferring all attempts to explain how such a metamorphosis was effected, until naturalists have explained how the tadpole is metamorphosed into a frog, or one sort of polyp into another. As to why it is so, the philosophy of efficient cause, and even the whole argument from design, would stand, upon the admission of such a theory of derivation, precisely where they stand without it. At least there is, or need be, no ground of difference here between Darwin and Agassiz. The latter will admit, with Owen and every morphologist, that hopeless is the attempt to explain the similarity of pattern in members of the same class by utility or the doctrine of final causes. "On the ordinary view of the independent creation of each being, we can only say that so it is, that it has so pleased the Creator to construct each animal and plant." Mr. Darwin, in proposing a theory which suggests a how that harmonizes these facts into a system, we trust implies that all was done wisely, in the largest sense designedly, and by an intelligent first cause. The contemplation of the subject on the intellectual side, the amplest exposition of the unity of plan in creation, considered irrespective of natural agencies, leads to no other conclusion.

We are thus, at last, brought to the question, What would happen if the derivation of species were to be substantiated, either as a true physical theory, or as a sufficient hypothesis? What would come of it? The inquiry is a pertinent one, just now. For, of those who agree with us in thinking that Darwin has not established his theory of derivation many will admit with us that he has rendered a theory of derivation much less improbable than before; that such a theory chimes in with the established doctrines of physical science, and is not unlikely to be largely accepted long before it can be proved. Moreover, the various notions that prevail--equally among the most and the least religious--as to the relations between natural agencies or phenomena and efficient cause, are seemingly more crude, obscure, and discordant, than they need be.

It is not surprising that the doctrine of the book should be denounced as atheistical. What does surprise and concern us is, that it should be so denounced by a scientific man, on the broad assumption that a material connection between the members of a series of organized beings is inconsistent with the idea of their being intellectually connected with one another through the Deity, i.e., as products of one mind, as indicating and realizing a preconceived plan. An assumption the rebound of which is somewhat fearful to contemplate, but fortunately one which every natural birth protests against.

It would be more correct to say that the theory in itself is perfectly compatible with an atheistic view of the universe. That is true; but it is equally true of physical theories generally. Indeed, it is more true of the theory of gravitation, and of the nebular hypothesis, than of the hypothesis in question. The latter merely takes up a particular, proximate cause, or set of such causes, from which, it is argued, the present diversity of species has or may have contingently resulted. The author does not say necessarily resulted; that the actual results in mode and measure, and none other, must have taken place. On the other hand, the theory of gravitation and its extension in the nebular hypothesis assume a universal and ultimate physical cause, from which the effects in Nature must necessarily have resulted. Now, it is not thought, at least at the present day, that the establishment of the Newtonian theory was a step toward atheism or pantheism. Yet the great achievement of Newton consisted in proving that certain forces (blind forces, so far as the theory is concerned), acting upon matter in certain directions, must necessarily produce planetary orbits of the exact measure and form in which observation shows them to exist--a view which is just as consistent with eternal necessity, either in the atheistic or the pantheistic form, as it is with theism.

Nor is the theory of derivation particularly exposed to the charge of the atheism of fortuity; since it undertakes to assign real causes for harmonious and systematic results. But, of this, a word at the close.

The value of such objections to the theory of derivation may be tested by one or two analogous cases. The common scientific as well as popular belief is that of the original, independent creation of oxygen and hydrogen, iron, gold, and the like. Is the speculative opinion now increasingly held, that some or all of the supposed elementary bodies are derivative or compound, developed from some preceding forms of matter, irreligious? Were the old alchemists atheists as well as dreamers in their attempts to transmute earth into gold? Or, to take an instance from force (power)--which stands one step nearer to efficient cause than form--was the attempt to prove that heat, light, electricity, magnetism, and even mechanical power, are variations or transmutations of one force, atheistical in its tendency? The supposed establishment of this view is reckoned as one of the greatest scientific triumphs of this century.

Perhaps, however, the objection is brought, not so much against the speculation itself, as against the attempt to show how derivation might have been brought about. Then the same objection applies to a recent ingenious hypothesis made to account for the genesis of the chemical elements out of the ethereal medium, and to explain their several atomic weights and some other characteristics by their successive complexity--hydrogen consisting of so many atoms of ethereal substance united in a particular order, and so on. The speculation interested the philosophers of the British Association, and was thought innocent, but unsupported by facts. Surely Mr. Darwin's theory is none the worse, morally, for having some foundation in fact.

In our opinion, then, it is far easier to vindicate a theistic character for the derivative theory, than to establish the theory itself upon adequate scientific evidence. Perhaps scarcely any philosophical objection can be urged against the former to which the nebular hypothesis is not equally exposed. Yet the nebular hypothesis finds general scientific acceptance, and is adopted as the basis of an extended and recondite illustration in Mr. Agassiz's great work.[I-13]

How the author of this book harmonizes his scientific theory with his philosophy and theology, he has not informed us. Paley in his celebrated analogy with the watch, insists that if the timepiece were so constructed as to produce other similar watches, after a manner of generation in animals, the argument from design would be all the stronger. What is to hinder Mr. Darwin from giving Paley's argument a further a-fortiori extension to the supposed case of a watch which sometimes produces better watches, and contrivances adapted to successive conditions, and so at length turns out a chronometer, a town clock, or a series of organisms of the same type? From certain incidental expressions at the close of the volume, taken in connection with the motto adopted from Whewell, we judge it probable that our author regards the whole system of Nature as one which had received at its first formation the impress of the will of its Author, foreseeing the varied yet necessary laws of its action throughout the whole of its existence, ordaining when and bow each particular of the stupendous plan should be realized in effect, and--with Him to whom to will is to do--in ordaining doing it, Whether profoundly philosophical or not, a view maintained by eminent philosophical physicists and theologians, such as Babbage on the one hand and Jowett on the other, will hardly be denounced as atheism. Perhaps Mr. Darwin would prefer to express his idea in a more general way, by adopting the thoughtful words of one of the most eminent naturalists of this or any age, substituting the word action for "thought," since it is the former (from which alone the latter can be inferred) that he has been considering. "Taking Nature as exhibiting thought for my guide, it appears to me that while human thought is consecutive, Divine thought is simultaneous, embracing at the same time and forever, in the past, the present and the future, the most diversified relations among hundreds of thousands of organized beings, each of which may present complications again, which to study and understand even imperfectly--as for instance man himself-- mankind has already spent thousands of years."[I-14] In thus conceiving of the Divine Power in act as coetaneous with Divine Thought, and of both as far as may be apart from the human element of time, our author may regard the intervention of the Creator either as, humanly speaking, done from all time, or else as doing through all time. In the ultimate analysis we suppose that every philosophical theist must adopt one or the other conception.

A perversion of the first view leads toward atheism, the notion of an eternal sequence of cause and effect, for which there is no first cause--a view which few sane persons can long rest in. The danger which may threaten the second view is pantheism. We feel safe from either error, in our profound conviction that there is order in the universe; that order presupposes mind; design, will; and mind or will, personality. Thus guarded, we much prefer the second of the two conceptions of causation, as the more philosophical as well as Christian view--a view which leaves us with the same difficulties and the same mysteries in Nature as in Providence, and no other. Natural law, upon this view, is the human conception of continued and orderly Divine action.

We do not suppose that less power, or other power, is required to sustain the universe and carry on its operations, than to bring it into being. So, while conceiving no improbability of "interventions of Creative mind in Nature," if by such is meant the bringing to pass of new and fitting events at fitting times, we leave it for profounder minds to establish, if they can, a rational distinction in kind between his working in Nature carrying on operations, and in initiating those operations.

We wished, under the light of such views, to examine more critically the doctrine of this book, especially of some questionable parts; for instance, its explanation of the natural development of organs, and its implication of a "necessary acquirement of mental power" in the ascending scale of gradation. But there is room only for the general declaration that we cannot think the Cosmos a series which began with chaos and ends with mind, or of which mind is a result: that, if, by the successive origination of species and organs through natural agencies, the author means a series of events which succeed each other irrespective of a continued directing intelligence--events which mind does not order and shape to destined ends--then he has not established that doctrine, nor advanced toward its establishment, but has accumulated improbabilities beyond all belief. Take the formation and the origination of the successive degrees of complexity of eyes as a specimen. The treatment of this subject (pp. i88, 189), upon one interpretation, is open to all the objections referred to; but, if, on the other hand, we may rightly compare the eye "to a telescope, perfected by the long-continued efforts of the highest human intellects," we could carry out the analogy, and draw satisfactory illustrations and inferences from it. The essential, the directly intellectual thing is the making of the improvements in the telescope or the steam-engine. Whether the successive improvements, being small at each step, and consistent with the general type of the instrument, are applied to some of the individual machines, or entire new machines are constructed for each, is a minor matter. Though, if machines could engender, the adaptive method would be most economical; and economy is said to be a paramount law in Nature. The origination of the improvements, and the successive adaptations to meet new conditions or subserve other ends, are what answer to the supernatural, and therefore remain inexplicable. As to bringing them into use, though wisdom foresees the result, the circumstances and the natural competition will take care of that, in the long-run. The old ones will go out of use fast enough, except where an old and simple machine remains still best adapted to a particular purpose or condition--as, for instance, the old Newcomen engine for pumping out coal-pits. If there's a Divinity that shapes these ends, the whole is intelligible and reasonable; otherwise, not.

We regret that the necessity of discussing philosophical questions has prevented a fuller examination of the theory itself, and of the interesting scientific points which are brought to bear in its favor. One of its neatest points, certainly a very strong one for the local origination of species, and their gradual diffusion under natural agencies, we must reserve for some other convenient opportunity.

The work is a scientific one, rigidly restricted to its direct object; and by its science it must stand or fall. Its aim is, probably, not to deny creative intervention in Nature--for the admission of the independent origination of certain types does away with all antecedent improbability of as much intervention as may be required--but to maintain that Natural Selection, in explaining the facts, explains also many classes of facts which thousand-fold repeated independent acts of creation do not explain, but leave more mysterious than ever. How far the author has succeeded, the scientific world will in due time be able to pronounce.

As these sheets are passing through the press, a copy of the second edition has reached us. We notice with pleasure the insertion of an additional motto on the reverse of the title page, directly claiming the theistic view which we have vindicated for the doctrine. Indeed, these pertinent words of the eminently wise Bishop Butler comprise, in their simplest expression, the whole substance of our later pages:

"The only distinct meaning of the word 'natural' is stated, fixed, or settled; since what is natural as much requires and presupposes an intelligent mind to render it so, i.e., to effect it continually or at stated times, as what is supernatural or miraculous does to effect it for once."

II

DESIGN VERSUS NECESSITY

DISCUSSION BETWEEN TWO READERS OF DARWIN'S TREATISE ON THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES, UPON ITS NATURAL THEOLOGY

(American Journal of Science and Arts, September, 1860)

D.T.--Is Darwin's theory atheistic or pantheistic? or, does it tend to atheism or pantheism? Before attempting any solution of this question, permit me to say a few words tending to obtain a definite conception of necessity and design, as the sources from which events may originate, each independent of the other; and we shall, perhaps, best attain a clear understanding of each, by the illustration of an example in which simple human designers act upon the physical powers of common matter.

Suppose, then, a square billiard-table to be placed with its corners directed to the four cardinal points. Suppose a player, standing at the north corner, to strike a red ball directly to the south, his design being to lodge the ball in the south pocket; which design, if not interfered with, must, of course be accomplished. Then suppose another player, standing at the east corner, to direct a white ball to the west corner. This design also, if not interfered with, must be accomplished. Next suppose both players to strike their balls at the same instant, with like forces, in the directions before given. In this case the balls would not pass as before, namely, the red ball to the south, and the white ball to the west, but they must both meet and strike each other in the centre of the table, and, being perfectly elastic, the red ball must pass to the west pocket, and the white ball to the south pocket. We may suppose that the players acted wholly without concert with each other, indeed, they may be ignorant of each other' s design, or even of each other's existence; still we know that the events must happen as herein described. Now, the first half of the course of these two balls is from an impulse, or proceeds from a power, acting from design. Each player has the design of driving his ball across the table in a diagonal line to accomplish its lodgment at the opposite corner of the table. Neither designed that his ball should be deflected from that course and pass to another corner of the table. The direction of this second part of the motion must be referred entirely to necessity, which directly interferes with the purpose of him who designed the rectilinear direction. We are not, in this case, to go back to find design in the creation of the powers or laws of inertia and elasticity, after the order of which the deflection, at the instant of collision, necessarily takes place. We know that these powers were inherent in the balls, and were not created to answer this special deflection. We are required, by the hypothesis, to confine attention in point of time, from the instant preceding the impact of the balls, to the time of their arrival at the opposite corners of the table. The cues aremoved by design. The impacts are acts from design. The first half of the motion of each ball is under the direction of design. We mean by this the particular design of each player. But, at the instant of the collision of the balls upon each other, direction from design ceases, and the balls no longer obey the particular designs of the players, the ends or purposes intended by them are not accomplished, but frustrated, by necessity, or by the necessary action of the powers of inertia and elasticity, which are inherent in matter, and are not made by any design of a Creator for this special action, or to serve this special purpose, but would have existed in the materials of which the balls were made, although the players had never been born.

I have thus stated, by a simple example in physical action, what is meant by design and what by necessity; and that the latter may exist without any dependence upon the former. If I have given the statement with what may be thought, by some, unnecessary prolixity, I have only to say that I have found many minds to have a great difficulty in conceiving of necessity as acting altogether independent of design.

Let me now trace these principles as sources of action in Darwin's work or theory. Let us see how much there is of design acting to produce a foreseen end, and thus proving a reasoning and self-conscious Creator; and how much of mere blind power acting without rational design, or without a specific purpose or conscious foresight. Mr. Darwin has specified in a most clear and unmistakable manner the operation of his three great powers, or rather, the three great laws by which the organic power of life acts in the formation of an eye. (See p. 169.) Following the method he has pointed out, we will take a number of animals of the same species, in which the eye is not developed. They may have all the other senses, with the organs of nutrition, circulation, respiration, and locomotion. They all have a brain and nerves, and some of these nerves may be sensitive to light; but have no combination of retina, membranes, humors, etc., by which the distinct image of an object may be formed and conveyed by the optic nerve to the cognizance of the internal perception, or the mind. The animal in this case would be merely sensible of the difference between light and darkness. He would have no power of discriminating form, size, shape, or color, the difference of objects, and to gain from these a knowledge of their being useful or hurtful, friends or enemies. Up to this point there is no appearance of necessity upon the scene. The billiard-balls have not yet struck together, and we will suppose that none of the arguments that may be used to prove, from this organism, thus existing, that it could not have come into form and being without a creator acting to this end with intelligence and design, are opposed by anything that can be found in Darwin's theory; for, so far, Darwin's laws are supposed not to have come into operation. Give the animals, thus organized, food and room, and they may go on, from generation to generation, upon the same organic level. Those individuals that, from natural variation, are born with light-nerves a little more sensitive to light than their parents, will cross or interbreed with those who have the same organs a little less sensitive, and thus the mean standard will be kept up without any advancement. If our billiard-table were sufficiently extensive, i. e., infinite, the balls rolled from the corners would never meet, and the necessity which we have supposed to deflect them would never act.

The moment, however, that the want of space or food commences natural selection begins. Here the balls meet, and all future action is governed by necessity. The best forms, or those nerves most sensitive to light, connected with incipient membranes and humors for corneas and lenses, are picked out and preserved by natural selection, of necessity. All cannot live and propagate, and it is a necessity, obvious to all, that the weaker must perish, if the theory be true. Working on, in this way, through countless generations, the eye is at last

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formed in all its beauty and excellence. It must (always assuming that this theory is true) result from this combined action of natural variation, the struggle for life, and natural selection, with as much certainty as the balls, after collision, must pass to corners of the table different from those to which they were directed, and so far forth as the eye is formed by these laws, acting upward from the nerve merely sensitive to light, we can no more infer design, and from design a designer, than we can infer design in the direction of the billiard-balls after the collision. Both are sufficiently accounted for by blind powers acting under a blind necessity. Take away the struggle for life from the one, and the collision of the balls from the other--and neither of these was designed--and the animal would have gone on without eyes. The balls would have found the corners of the table to which they were first directed.

While, therefore, it seems to me clear that one who can find no proof of the existence of an intelligent Creator except through the evidence of design in the organic world, can find no evidence of such design in the construction of the eye, if it were constructed under the operation of Darwin's laws, I shall not for one moment contend that these laws are incompatible with design and a self-conscious, intelligent Creator. Such design might, indeed, have coexisted with the necessity or natural selection; and so the billiard-players might have designed the collision of their balls; but neither the formation of the eye, nor the path of the balls after collision, furnishes any sufficient proof of such design in either case.

One, indeed, who believes, from revelation or any other cause, in the existence of such a Creator, the fountain and Source of all things in heaven above and in the earth beneath, will see in natural variation, the struggle for life, and natural selection, only the order or mode in which this Creator, in his own perfect wisdom, sees fit to act. Happy is he who can thus see and adore. But how many are there who have no such

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belief from intuition, or faith in revelation; but who have by careful and elaborate search in the physical, and more especially in the organic world, inferred, by induction, the existence of God from what has seemed to them the wonderful adaptation of the different organs and parts of the animal body to its, apparently, designed ends! Imagine a mind of this skeptical character, in all honesty and under its best reason, after finding itself obliged to reject the evidence of revelation, to commence a search after the Creator, in the light of natural theology. He goes through the proof for final cause and design, as given in a summary though clear, plain, and convincing form, in the pages of Paley and the "Bridgewater Treatises." The eye and the hand, those perfect instruments of optical and mechanical contrivance and adaptation, without the least waste or surplusage--these, say Paley and Bell, certainly prove a designing maker as much as the palace or the watch proves an architect or a watchmaker. Let this mind, in this state, cross Darwin's work, and find that, after a sensitive nerve or a rudimentary hoof or claw, no design is to be found. From this point upward the development is the mere necessary result of natural selection; and let him receive this law of natural selection as true, and where does he find himself? Before, he could refer the existence of the eye, for example, only to design, or chance. There was no other alternative. He rejected chance, as impossible.

It must then be a design. But Darwin brings up another power, namely, natural selection, in place of this impossible chance. This not only may, but, according to Darwin, must of necessity produce an eye. It may indeed coexist with design, but it must exist and act and produce its results, even without design. Will such a mind, under such circumstances, infer the existence of the designer--God--when he can, at the same time, satisfactorily account for the thing produced, by the operation of this natural selection? It seems to me, therefore, perfectly evident

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