Lamarck stood curiously aloof and apart from the scientific thought of his day.[344] He took no interest in the morphological problems that filled the minds of Cuvier and Geoffroy; he had indeed no feeling at all for morphology. He did not realise, like Cuvier, the convenance des parties, the marvellous co-ordination of parts to form a whole; he had little conception of what is really implied in the word "organism." He was not, like Geoffroy, imbued with a lively sense of the unity of plan and composition, and of the significance of vestigial organs as witnesses to that unity. He seems not to have known of the recapitulation theory, of which he might have made such good use as powerful evidence for evolution. Even with the German transcendentalists, with whom in the looseness of his generalisations he shows some affinity, he seems not to have been specially acquainted.
He was interested more in the problems suggested to him by his daily work in the museum. He wanted to know why species graded so annoyingly into one another; he wanted to examine critically his haunting suspicion that species were really not distinct, and that classification was purely conventional. The question, too, of the adaptation of species to their environment, the problem of ecological adaptation, in distinction to that of functional adaptation which interested Cuvier so greatly, came vividly before him as he worked through the vast collections of the museum. He was the first systematist to occupy himself in a philosophical manner with the problems of general biology. He introduced new problems and a new way of looking at old. With Lamarck the problem of species and the problem of ecological adaptation enter into general biology.
The one point in which he does definitely carry on the thought of his predecessors is his conception of the animal kingdom as forming a scale of (functional) perfection. He did not go to the same extreme as Bonnet; he did not even consider that the animal series was a continuation of the vegetable series; in his opinion they formed two diverging scales. He recognised, too, that among animals there was no simple and regular gradation from the lowest to the highest, but that the orderly progression was disturbed and diverted by the necessity of adaptation to different environments. It is interesting to note that in developing this idea he arrived at a roughly accurate distinction between homologous and analogous structures. More importance, he thought, was to be attributed in classifying animals to characters which appeared due to the "plan of Nature" than to such as were produced by an external modifying cause (p. 299). But he did not formulate the distinction in any strictly morphological way.
As his ideas developed he laid less stress upon the simplicity and continuity of the scale; in his supplementary remarks to the Introduction of 1816 he admits that the series is really very much branched, and even that there may be two distinct series among animals instead of one. His last schema of the course of evolution shows no little analogy with the genealogical trees of Darwinian speculation. It is headed "The presumed Order of the formation of Animals, showing two separate partly-branching series," and it reads as follows:—
It is interesting to note that Vertebrates are placed between the two series, and are now not linked on directly to any Invertebrate group.
Lamarck's theory had little success. There is evidence, however, that both Meckel and Geoffroy owed a good many of their evolutionary ideas to Lamarck, and Cuvier paid him at least the compliment of criticising his theory,[345] not distinguishing it, however, very clearly from the evolutionary theories of the transcendentalists. But, speaking generally, Lamarck's theory of evolution exercised very little influence upon his contemporaries. This was probably due partly to the obscurity and confusion of his thought, partly to his lack of sympathy with the biological thought of his day, which was preponderatingly morphological.
It was not that men's minds were not ripe for evolution, for in the early decades of the 19th century evolution was in the air. There were few of von Baer's contemporaries who had not read Lamarck;[346] Erasmus Darwin's Zoonomia ran through three editions, and was translated into German, French and Italian;[347] German philosophy was full of the idea of evolution.
There was no unreadiness to accept the derivation of present-day species from a primordial form—if only some solid evidence for such derivation were forthcoming. Cuvier and von Baer, as we have seen, combated the current evolution theories on the ground that the evidence was insufficient, but von Baer at least had no rooted objection to evolution. In an essay of 1834, entitled The Most General Law of Nature in all Development,[348] von Baer expressed belief in a limited amount of evolution. In this paper he did not admit that all animals have developed from one parent form, and he refused to believe that man has descended from an ape; but, basing his supposition upon the facts of variability and upon the evidence of palæontology, he went so far as to maintain that many species have evolved from parent stocks. In the absence of conclusive proofs he did not commit himself to a belief in any extended or comprehensive process of evolution.
Imbued as he was with the idea of development von Baer saw in evolution a process essentially of the same nature as the development of the individual. Evolution, like development, was due to a Bildungskraft or formative force. The ultimate law of all becoming was that "the history of Nature is nothing but the history of the ever-advancing victory of spirit over matter" (p. 71). In a later essay (1835) in the same volume he says that all natural science is nothing but a long commentary on the single phrase Es werde!. (p. 86).