We have come, then, to these results. Protoplasm was originally immortal, barring accidents; and it still continues to be immortal in the case of unicellular organisms which propagate a-sexually. But in the case of all multicellular organisms, which propagate sexually, natural selection has reduced the term of life within the smallest limits that in each given case are compatible with the performance of the sexual act and the subsequent rearing of progeny—reserving, however, the original endowment of immortality for the germinal elements, whereby a continuum of life has been secured from the earliest appearance of life until the present day.
Now, in view of these results the question arises,—Why should the sexual methods of propagation have become so general, if their effect has been that of determining the necessary death of all individuals presenting them? Why, in the course of organic evolution, should these newer methods have been imposed on all the higher organisms, when the consequence is that all these higher organisms must pay for the innovation with their lives? Weismann’s answer to this question is as interesting and ingenious as all that has gone before. Seeing that sexual propagation is so general as to be practically universal among multicellular organisms, it is obvious that in some way or another it must have had a most important part to play in the general scheme of organic evolution. What, then, is the part that it does play? What is its raison d’être? Briefly, according to Weismann, its function is that of furnishing congenital variations to the ever-watchful agency of natural selection, in order that natural selection may always preserve the most favourable, and pass them on to the next generation by heredity. That sexual propagation is well calculated to furnish congenital variations may easily be rendered apparent. We have only to remember that at each union there is a mixture of two sets of germinal elements; that each of these was in turn the product of two other sets in the preceding generation, and so backwards ad infinitum in an ever doubling ratio. Remembering this, it follows that the germinal elements of no one member of a species can ever be the same as those of any other member born of different parents; on the contrary, while both are enormously complex products, each has had a different ancestral history, such that while one presents the congenital admixtures of thousands of individuals in one line of descent, the other presents similar admixtures of thousands of other individuals in a different line of descent. Consequently, when in any sexual union two of these enormously complex germinal elements fuse together, and constitute a new individual out of their joint endowments, it is perfectly certain that that individual cannot be exactly like any other individual of the same species which has been born of different parents. The chances must be infinity to one against any single mass of germ-plasm being exactly like any other mass of germ-plasm; while any amount of latitude as to difference is allowed, up to the point at which the difference becomes too pronounced to satisfy the conditions of fertilization—in which case, of course, no new individual is born. Hence, theoretically, we have here a sufficient cause for all individual variations of a congenital kind that can possibly occur within the limits of fertility, and, therefore, that can ever become actual in living organisms. In point of fact, Weismann believes—or, at any rate, provisionally maintains—that this is the sole and only cause of variations that are congenital, and therefore (according to his views) transmissible by heredity. Now, whether or not he is right as regards these latter points, I think there can be no question that sexual propagation is, at all events, one of the main causes of congenital variation; and seeing of what enormous importance congenital variation must always have been in supplying material for the operation of natural selection, we appear to have found a most satisfactory answer to our question,—Why has sexual propagation become so universal among all the higher plants and animals? It has become so because it is thus shown to have been the condition to producing congenital variations, which in turn constitute one of the primary conditions to the working of natural selection.
Having got thus far, I should like to make two or three subsidiary remarks. In the first place, it ought to be observed that this theory touching the causes of congenital variations was not originally propounded by Professor Weismann, but occurs in the writings of several previous authors, and is expressly alluded to by Darwin[4]. Nevertheless, it occupies so prominent a place in Weismann’s system of theories, and has by him been wrought up so much more elaborately than by any of his predecessors, that we are entitled to regard it as, par excellence, the Weismannian theory of variation. In the next place, it ought to be observed that Weismann is careful to guard against the seductive fallacy of attributing the origin of sexual propagation to the agency of natural selection. Great as the benefit of this newer mode of propagation must have been to the species presenting it, the benefit cannot have been conferred by natural selection, seeing that the benefit arose from the fact of the new method furnishing material to the operation of natural selection, and therefore constituting the condition to the agency of natural selection having been called into existence at all. Or, in other words, we cannot attribute to natural selection the origin of sexual reproduction without involving ourselves in the absurdity of supposing natural selection to have originated the conditions of its own activity[5]. What the causes may have been which originally led to sexual reproduction is at present a matter that awaits suggestion by way of hypothesis; and, therefore, it now only remains to add that the general structure of Professor Weismann’s system of hypotheses leads to this curious result—namely, that the otherwise ubiquitous and (as he supposes) exclusive dominion of natural selection stops short at the protozoa, over which it cannot exercise any influence at all. For if natural selection depends for its activity on the occurrence of congenital variations, and if congenital variations depend for their occurrence on sexual modes of reproduction, it follows that no organisms which propagate by any other modes can present congenital variations, or thus become subject to the sway of natural selection. And inasmuch as Weismann believes that such is the case with all the protozoa, as well as with all parthenogenetic organisms, he does not hesitate to accept the necessary conclusion that in these cases natural selection is without any jurisdiction. How, then, does he account for individual variations in the protozoa? And, still more, how does he account for the origin of their innumerable species? He accounts for both these things by the direct action of external conditions of life. In other words, so far as the unicellular organisms are concerned, Weismann is rigidly and unconditionally an advocate of the theory of Lamarck—just as much as in the case of all the multicellular organisms he is rigidly and unconditionally an opponent of that theory. Nevertheless, there is here no inconsistency: on the contrary, it is consistency with the logical requirements of his theory that leads to this sharp partitioning of the unicellular from the multicellular organisms with respect to the causes of their evolution. For, according to his view, the conditions of propagation among the unicellular organisms are such that parent and offspring are one and the same thing; “the child is a part, and usually a half, of its parent.” Therefore, if the parent has been in any way modified by the action of external conditions, it is inevitable that the child should, from the moment of its birth (i.e., fissiparous separation), be similarly modified; and if the modifying influences continue in the same lines for a sufficient length of time, the resulting change of type may become sufficiently pronounced to constitute a new species, genus, &c. But in the case of the multicellular or sexual organisms, the child is not thus merely a severed moiety of its parent; it is the result of the fusion of two highly specialized and extremely minute particles of each of two parents. Therefore, whatever may be thought touching the validity of Weismann’s deduction that in no case can any modification induced by external conditions on these parents be transmitted to their progeny, at least we must recognize the validity of the distinction which he draws between the facility with which such transmission must take place in the unicellular organisms, as compared with the difficulty—or, as he believes, the impossibility—of its doing so in the multicellular.
We are now in a position fully to understand Professor Weismann’s theory of heredity in all its bearings. Briefly stated, it is as follows. The whole organization of any multicellular organism is composed of two entirely different kinds of cells—namely, the germ-cells, or those which have to do with reproduction, and the somatic-cells, or those which go to constitute all the other parts of the organism. Now, the somatic-cells, in their aggregations as tissues and organs, may be modified in numberless ways by the direct action of the environment, as well as by special habits formed during the individual lifetime of the organism. But although the modifications thus induced may be, and generally are, adaptive—such as the increased muscularity caused by the use of muscles, “practice making perfect” where neural adjustments are concerned, and so on,—in no case can these so-called acquired, or “somatogenetic,” characters exercise any influence upon the germ-cells, such that they should reappear in the next generation as congenital, or “blastogenetic,” characters. For, according to the theory, the germ-cells as to their germinal contents differ in kind from the somatic-cells, and have no other connexion or dependence upon them than that of deriving from them their food and lodging. So much for the somatic-cells.
Turning now to the germ-cells, these are the receptacles of what Weismann calls the germ-plasm; and this it is that he supposes to differ in kind from all the other constituent elements of the organism. For the germ-plasm he believes to have had its origin in the unicellular organisms, and to have been handed down from them in one continuous stream through all successive generations of multicellular organisms. Thus, for example, suppose that we take a certain quantum of germ-plasm as this occurs in any individual organism of to-day. A minute portion of this germ-plasm, when mixed with a similarly minute portion from another individual, goes to form a new individual. But, in doing so, only a portion of this minute portion is consumed; the residue is stored up in the germinal cells of the new individual, in order to secure that continuity of the germ-plasm which Weismann assumes as the necessary basis of his whole theory. Furthermore, he assumes that this overplus portion of germ-plasm, which is so handed over to the custody of the new individual, is there capable of growth or multiplication at the expense of the nutrient materials which are supplied to it by the new soma in which it finds itself located; while in thus growing, or multiplying, it faithfully retains its highly complex structure, so that in no one minute particular does any part of a many thousand-fold increase differ, as to its ancestral characters, from that inconceivably small overplus which was first of all entrusted to the embryo by its parents. Therefore one might represent the germ-plasm by the metaphor of a yeast-plant, a single particle of which may be put into a vat of nutrient fluid: there it lives and grows upon the nutriment supplied, so that a new particle may next be taken to impregnate another vat, and so on ad infinitum. Here the successive vats would represent successive generations of progeny; but, to make the metaphor complete, one would have to suppose that in each case the yeast-cell was required to begin by making its own vat of nutrient material, and that it was only the residual portion of the cell which was afterwards able to grow and multiply. But although the metaphor is thus necessarily a clumsy one, it may serve to emphasize the all-important feature of Weismann’s theory—namely, the almost absolute independence of the germ-plasm. For, just as the properties of the yeast-plant would be in no way affected by anything that might happen to the vat, short of its being broken up or having its malt impaired, so, according to Weismann, the properties of the germ-plasm cannot be affected by anything that may happen to its containing soma, short of the soma being destroyed or having its nutritive functions disordered.
Such being the relations that are supposed to obtain between the soma and its germ-plasm, we have next to observe what is supposed to happen when, in the course of evolution, some modification of the ancestral form of the soma is required in order to adapt it to some change on the part of its environment. In other words, we have to consider Weismann’s views on the modus operandi of adaptive development, with its result in the origination of new species.
Seeing that, according to the theory, it is only congenital variations which can be inherited, all variations subsequently acquired by the intercourse of individuals with their environment, however beneficial such variations may be to these individuals, are ruled out as regards the species. Not falling within the province of heredity, they are blocked off in the first generation, and therefore present no significance at all in the process of organic evolution. No matter how many generations of eagles, for instance, may have used their wings for purposes of flight; and no matter how great an increase of muscularity, of endurance, and of skill, may thus have been secured to each generation of eagles as the result of individual exercise; all these advantages are entirely lost to progeny, and young eagles have ever to begin their lives with no more benefit bequeathed by the activity of their ancestors than if those ancestors had all been barn-door fowls. The only material which is of any count as regards the species, or with reference to the process of evolution, are fortuitous variations of the congenital kind. Among all the numberless congenital variations, within narrow limits, which are perpetually occurring in each generation of eagles, some will have reference to the wings; and although these will be fortuitous, or occurring indiscriminately in all directions, a few of them will now and then be in the direction of increased muscularity, others in the direction of increased endurance, others in the direction of increased skill, and so on. Now each of these fortuitous variations, which happens also to be a beneficial variation, will be favoured by natural selection; and, because it likewise happens to be a congenital variation, will be perpetuated by heredity. In the course of time, other congenital variations will happen to arise in the same directions; these will be added by natural selection to the advantage already gained, and so on, till, after hundreds and thousands of generations, the wings of eagles have become evolved into the marvellous structures which they now present.
Such being the theory of natural selection when stripped of all remnants of so-called Lamarckian principles, we have next to consider what the theory means in its relation to germ-plasm. For, as before explained, congenital variations are supposed by Weismann to be due to new combinations taking place in the germ-plasm as a result of the union in every act of fertilisation of two complex hereditary histories. Well, if congenital variations are thus nothing more than variations of germ-plasm “writ large” in the organism which is developed out of the plasm, it follows that natural selection is really at work upon these variations of the plasm. For, although it is proximately at work on the congenital variations of organisms after birth, it is ultimately, and through them, at work upon the variations of germ-plasm out of which the organisms arise. In other words, natural selection, in picking out of each generation those individual organisms which are by their congenital characters best suited to their surrounding conditions of life, is thereby picking out those peculiar combinations or variations of germ-plasm, which, when expanded into a resulting organism, give that organism the best chance in its struggle for existence. And, inasmuch as a certain overplus of this peculiar combination of germ-plasm is entrusted to that organism for bequeathing to the next generation, this to the next, and so on, it follows that natural selection is all the while conserving that originally peculiar combination of germ-plasm, until it happens to meet with some other mass of germ-plasm by mixing with which it may still further improve upon its original peculiarity, when, other things equal, natural selection will seize upon this improvement to perpetuate, as in the previous case. So that, on the whole, we may say that natural selection is ever waiting and watching for such combinations of germ-plasm as will give the resulting organisms the best possible chance in their struggle for existence; while, at the same time, it is remorselessly destroying all those combinations of germ-plasm which are handed over to the custody of organisms not so well fitted to their conditions of life.
It only remains to add that, according to Weismann’s theory in its strictly logical form, combinations of germ-plasm when once effected are so stable that they would never alter except as a result of entering into new combinations. In other words, no external influences or internal processes can ever change the hereditary nature of any particular mixture of germ-plasm, save and except its admixture with some other germ-plasm, which, being of a nature equally stable, goes to unite with the first in equal proportions as regards hereditary character. So that really it would be more correct to say that any given mass of germ-plasm does not change even when it is mixed with some other mass—any more, for instance, than a handful of sand can be said to change when it is mixed with a handful of clay.