But, I again ask the question, in what branch of human knowledge, except these obscure subjects, should we regard problems as solved, for the very reason that we possess none of the requisite knowledge for their solution?

I do not intend to reproduce here the entire examination which I have made elsewhere of the transmutation theories in general, or of Darwinism in particular. The above observations will suffice, I hope, to show why I could not accept even the most seductive of these theories. In certain points they agree with certain general facts and give an explanation of a certain number of phenomena. But all without exception attain this result only by the aid of hypotheses which are in flagrant contradiction with other general facts, quite as fundamental as those which they explain. In particular, all these doctrines are based upon a gradual and progressive derivation, upon the confusion of race and species. Consequently they ignore an unquestionable physiological fact; they are entirely in opposition with another fact, which follows from the first, and is conspicuous from every point of view, the isolation, namely, of specific groups from the earliest ages of the world, and the maintenance of organic order through all the revolutions of the globe.

Such are my reasons for refusing my adherence to Darwin’s theories.

VII. The theory of the English naturalist is certainly the most vigorous effort which has been made to trace back the origin of the organic world by processes analogous to those which we have discovered in the genesis of the inorganic world, that is to say, in only having recourse to secondary causes. He has failed, as we see, like Lamarck. These eminent men will be succeeded by others who will attempt the solution of the same problem. Will they be more fortunate?

No one is less inclined than I am to place any limit upon the extension of human knowledge. Yet the extension of our scientific knowledge, in the widest sense of the term, is always subordinate to certain conditions. The most attentive examination, even of a human work, will never teach us anything of the processes which have permitted its realisation. The cleverest watchmaker, if he has not followed studies perfectly foreign to his vocation, will know nothing of the origin of iron, of its transformation into steel, of the rolling and tempering of a main spring. The minutest study of that metallic ribbon which he knows so well, will tell him nothing of its origin, nothing of the process of its fabrication. To know more he must leave his shop and visit the furnaces, the forges, and the rolling mills.

In the works of nature it is the same. With nature as well as with ourselves, the phenomena which produce are very different from those which preserve, and from those displayed in the object produced.

The most complete anatomical and physiological study of an animal or of a full-grown plant will certainly teach us nothing about the metamorphoses of the microscopic cell from which sprang the dog, the elephant, and man himself.

Now hitherto we have only directed our attention to species already formed. We can therefore learn nothing more relative to their mode of production.

But we know that the unknown cause which has given birth to extinct and living species has been manifested at different times and intermittingly upon the surface of the globe. Nothing authorises us to suppose that it is exhausted. Although it appears to have generally acted at times which correspond to great geological movements, it is not impossible that it may be at work on some point of the earth even at this epoch of relatively profound rest. If this is the case, perhaps some happy chance will throw a little light upon the great mystery of organic origins. But until experience and observation have taught us something, all who wish to remain faithful to true science, will accept the existence and succession of species as a primordial fact. He will apply to all what Darwin applies to his single prototype; and, in order to explain what is still inexplicable, he will not sacrifice to hypotheses, however ingenious they may be, the exact and positive knowledge which has been won by nearly two centuries of work.