So much for the “missing link.” There is one other point to be settled before we have completed the sequence of evolution, which commences with the condensation of the nebulous vapour and terminates with the development of man; and that is the question of how life originated. We have found that the first dawn of life was in the form of a simple speck of bioplasm, void of any structure; and that this primordial germ, which we call a Moneron, was developed in the earliest period of deposition of stratified rock at the bottom of the sea, and is now being constantly developed as of old. Now, if the theory of evolution be not mere talk, this primordial germ must have been spontaneously evolved from inanimate matter, for the theory allows of no break, being a gradual unfolding of phenomena. We are told that there is no experience in nature of such a development. Perhaps so; but that is no argument against it. There is no experience in nature of any special creation either; so why fly to this alternative, which is the only one presented to us, instead of adopting the theory which agrees so harmoniously with the whole evolutionary process? Why make this abrupt break in the chain of sequence? Does it not annihilate completely the whole theory of evolution? It is not more wonderful that life should be evolved from inanimate nature than that man should be evolved from a structureless bioplasm. The continuity of evolution once broken, why may it not be broken again and again?
If we are to accept the theory of evolution, we are bound to admit that animate was evolved from inanimate matter. And the difficulty of this admission is not, after all, so great as appears at first sight; for who is to say whether such a condition really exists as inanimate matter? It is a fact that every particle of matter in nature is in a state of active motion; every molecule and atom is constantly active. And why is this not life as much as the animal or vegetable, though in a modified degree of development? Evolution, if it mean anything, should admit this; and I will show you that it does not admit it only, but absolutely declares that it is so. In the first place, it must be recollected that Balfour Stewart, and all other physical and chemical scientists, declare that every thing in nature is composed of molecules and atoms. The molecules are the smallest quantities into which any individual body or substance can be divided without losing its individuality. For instance, table-salt, or chloride of sodium, can be divided and subdivided, until you get to the limit of subdivision, which is a molecule composed of chlorine and sodium in chemical combination. Further subdivision annihilates its individuality as salt, and leaves us with the two elementary chemical atoms, chlorine and sodium, existing independently of each other. These atoms are incapable of further subdivision. In the same manner, the whole matter of the universe may be subdivided into molecules, which consist of atoms of some two or more of about sixty-seven chemical elements in various combinations. These atoms are the smallest separate particles of masses of matter, and are separated from each other by what is termed hypothetical ether—that is, the fluid ether we believe to be pervading every portion of space. Each atom possesses an inherent sum of force, or energy. The well-established and universally-admitted theory of chemical affinity teaches us that these atoms are capable of attracting and repelling each other, and, therefore, also teaches us, by implication, that they are possessed with definite inclinations, follow these sensations or impulses, and have also the will and ability to move to and from one another. This we are clearly taught by chemistry. Thus every atom in the universe possesses sensation and will, pleasure and displeasure, desire and loathing, attraction and repulsion; and its mass is, moreover, indestructible and unchangeable, and its energy eternal, as we are again taught by the theory of conservation of energy and matter. These sentient atoms of universal matter, whose aggregate energy is the great animating spirit of the universe, have the power of uniting together in various chemical combinations to form molecules, or chemical unities, developing fresh properties in the process, and forming the lowest conceivable division of compound material substances, some atoms uniting to build up crystals and other inorganic masses, and others to develop the various organic or life forms. The atoms of the ultimate molecules of both organic and inorganic bodies are identically the same. It depends entirely upon what particular combination of atoms takes place whether an organic or inorganic form is developed. The primordial life-form we have found to be simple homogeneous plasm, consisting of molecules, each of which is composed of atoms of five elements—carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, and sulphur, differing not one iota from the molecules of inorganic bodies, except that it acquires the special power of reproduction, by virtue of the peculiar combination of its atoms, which power is wanting in the inorganic world, whose molecules are composed of similar atoms, but in different combinations. This is the only difference between the organic, or life, world, and the inorganic, or lifeless, world—life being, as compared with unlife, but the power of reproduction. As examples of this, we may take crystals, the most perfect development of inorganic nature, and the moneron, the least perfect development of organic nature; and the difference between them is almost nil, certainly less than between the parents and offspring in many life-forms. The crystal molecules are composed of elementary chemical atoms, as are the moneron molecules; but the former grow by particles being deposited on particles externally, while the latter grow by particles penetrating from without, or being absorbed into the interior and becoming assimilated by the plasm, fresh molecules being evolved in the process, this special power of reproduction being generated by the peculiar combination of the atoms. This argument appears to me to be logically and scientifically sound, and disposes altogether of the notion of a break of continuity between the living and the unliving worlds, which is such a formidable difficulty to many minds. The plasm thus formed by the aggregation of life molecules gradually differentiates into protoplasm and nucleus, which together form a simple cell; and this cell partakes, by heredity, of the nature and properties of its parent form, and also, by adaptation to different circumstances surrounding its existence, acquires fresh properties, which, together with the inherited properties, it transmits to its progeny, thus evolving a still more complex form, inheriting the acquired and inherited properties of its parent, and again acquiring fresh properties; and so on, ad infinitum, through the various life-forms we know have been developed in the pedigree of man and animals, through Amœbæ, Synamœbæ, etc., as in the genealogy given above.
In the course of the development of different life-forms heredity—which, in plain English, is unconscious memory generated in the first life-form and transmitted through all the different species—is the sole factor in the preservation of the parent properties; while adaptation to surrounding conditions and circumstances, natural selection in the struggle for existence, and sexual selection in the struggle of the males for females are the principal factors in the differentiation of species.
Having traced man’s pedigree according to the Evolution theory, from primitive nebulous matter to his present commanding position, and found him possessed with reason and the power of controlling and regulating the forces of nature, our next inquiry is naturally for what purpose is he here and what will become of him eventually. Here we come to the most difficult problem of all ages, which has baffled learned men of all nationalities, and which will probably never be satisfactorily solved. Intimately connected with it is the almost as difficult problem, How was the universe caused at all? There are eminent scientific men who think they can conclusively show that the universe existed from eternity; others as positively assert that it must have been caused by a power outside and independent of itself; while others are equally convinced that it was self-created. But when we examine their arguments we find ourselves unable logically to accept any of their conclusions.
The Atheist declares that the universe has existed from eternity, not having been produced by any other agency, and, therefore, without any beginning; which necessarily implies the conception of infinite past time—an effort of which the human mind is quite incapable. The Pantheist declares that the universe evolved out of potential existence into actual existence by virtue of some inherent necessity; which is as unthinkable as the previous one, for potential existence must be either something, in which case it would be actual existence, or nothing, which it could not possibly be. But admitting, for the sake of argument, the possibility of potential existence as nothing, still we should have to account for its origin, which would involve us in an infinity of still more remote potentialities. The Theistic theory of creation by external agency implies either formation of matter out of nothing, which is inconceivable, or out of pre-existing materials, which leaves us under the necessity of showing the origin of the pre-existing elements, and, like the preceding theory, would involve us in an infinity of remote pre-existences. It also involves the existence of a potentiality outside matter, which must either be caused, which involves a prior cause, or uncaused, in which case it must be either finite or infinite. If it be finite, it must be limited, and, consequently, there must exist something outside its limits, which destroys the notion of its being a first cause. Therefore, it must be infinite. Also, as first cause, it must be independent; for dependency would imply a more remote cause. The first cause must, therefore, be both infinite and absolute, which is an absurdity; for a cause can only exist in relation to its effect, and therefore cannot be absolute; and the fact of its being infinite deprives us of the only means of escape from the difficulty, by showing the impossibility of its being first of all absolute and afterwards cause; for the infinite cannot become what it once was not.
Thus, then, we are driven to the conclusion that logic shows the Theistic conception of the origin of nature, equally as much as the Pantheistic and the Atheistic, to be utterly impossible; but it must be admitted that if, instead of matter, we substitute time and space in our consideration of this most important matter, the Atheistic theory more nearly approaches the conceivable than either of the other two; for by no mental effort can we conceive the formation of time and space either by external agency or inherent necessity. It is absolutely impossible for us to conceive the idea of the non-existence of either time or space.
Because the human mind cannot conceive the possibility of nature being produced by external agency, it does not follow that we are bound to admit the impossibility of the existence of an intelligence controlling nature’s laws; for it is quite possible that such an existence may be, though our finite minds cannot comprehend it. The Agnostic philosopher, although he cannot logically demonstrate the existence of the Divine Being, yet declares that, inasmuch as this universe consists of existing phenomena, it is absolutely necessary that there should be some cause adequate for the production of the effects manifested. By this process of reasoning he arrives at the conclusion that there exists a something controlling nature, which is utterly incomprehensible—an ultimate reality, of which force and matter are alike merely the phenomenal manifestations. This ultimate reality, moreover, is intelligent.
We cannot recall the wonders of the evolutionary development of the universe without at once seeing that there is purpose at the bottom of all, and that chance is no factor in the process. We cannot believe that man is but a fortuitous concourse of atoms. Reason tells us clearly that we are here for a well-ordained purpose; but what that purpose is we cannot tell. The old notion that our destiny is to prepare ourselves here, to live again in our bodily forms, play harps, and sing halleluyah to all eternity, I regard as mere moonshine. Such a fate would be to me far worse than annihilation. But that we have a future destiny of some sort I have no doubt. We know we must die, and that when we die our bodily functions, including brain functions, will cease to be performed. Are we, then, annihilated? The answer of scientists is decisively “Yes, so far as we are concerned as sentient individual beings.” Science teaches us that the three things which make up consciousness, or man’s mental side, are thought, emotion, and volition; that they are inseparably bound up with the brain and the nervous system, whose functions they are; and that when the brain dies these functions cease. This is undeniable. Therefore, if there is any future existence, it is not one of consciousness. The power of muscular movement is arrested at death, and, therefore, we must admit that the power of thought, emotion, and volition ceases at death. Why should the appearance be deceptive in one case and not in the other? It is not the case of a separate entity in the body, but of a distinct function—an effect which ceases with its proper cause. It is absolutely certain, from the teaching of science, that the consciousness grows as the brain and body grow, varies according to the standard of health in the brain, and declines as the general vigour of the brain declines; and, therefore, we can but admit that it dies with the brain. We also learn from Embryology that consciousness evolved by slow degrees from unconsciousness, and that once there was no thought in any of us. Even if science were to admit that man’s consciousness continued after death, it would be equally rational to admit that animals also had a future consciousness; for it is quite clear we have slowly evolved from the lowest germ of animal life. Man’s very attributes are found in a lower degree in animals, and yet it is the possession of his lofty attributes which he says entitles him to conscious immortality. The intellectual qualities in animals differ from those in man only in degree, while in the possession of some of the highest moral attributes—such as courage, fidelity, patience, self-sacrifice, and affection—some of the lower animals, as the dog, the horse, and the ant, far surpass him. Even among human beings themselves these higher qualities, mental and moral, exist in all degrees, from their almost total absence in the savage up to the mental and moral splendour of a Buddha, a Socrates, a Disraeli, or a Gladstone. Are all these lower animals, savage men, and intellectual and moral geniuses, to have individual conscious immortality? If, as some say, man only and not animals are immortal, then the question naturally arises, When and how came man so? If he was always immortal, so were animals. If he became immortal later on, he must either have slowly acquired the gift, or it must have been suddenly conferred upon him. In either case there must have been a particular moment when he became immortal. Can we conceive of such a thing as the species being mortal one moment and immortal the next? The question of how he became immortal is still more difficult, as the question why, or for what merit, is wholly unanswerable. Then, again, science teaches us that animal life, of whatever form, will vanish from the earth long before the inevitable decay of the planet itself. Geologists tell us that, in obedience to a general law, all species have their term of living. They appear, and after a time disappear. How absurd, then, to raise a question as to the conscious individual immortality of the countless myriads of a species that shall itself have utterly vanished without leaving a trace!
Are we, then, annihilated at death? Yes, as conscious individuals. We are bound to admit the force of all the arguments brought forward by science against the theory of a future conscious existence; but these arguments in no way affect the great problem of the “ego,” or “self,” which exists in all of us, irrespective of consciousness, memory, or other brain function. A man may be unconscious, and yet live; therefore consciousness is not necessary to life. When we ask ourselves whether we shall be annihilated at death, we should first of all have a clear definition of the word “we” before we reply. What are we? What am I? I am not consciousness, which is but a function of one of my organs, the brain, and which merely enables me to know myself. Then what am I? I cannot conceive that I am anything but the energy or life-power developed by the aggregation of my life-particles, which causes the various organs of my body to perform their functions, as cerebrating, etc. The primordial germ of my body was a simple bioplasm, consisting of a combination of life-molecules, composed of energetic atoms. From these molecules evolved fresh molecules, which, under the laws of heredity and variation, acquired new properties; until, at last, a complex organism became developed, possessing far higher powers than those belonging to the primordial germ. As the development of species continued, higher forces became manifested; until, at last, the condition of man was reached, and a life-power developed of a much higher order than any previously known. This life-power, or human energy, is the “ego,” the “self,” the cause of the bodily functions, and is eternal. Kant declared there was a world unknown, independent of our conscious phenomenal world; and this we must admit to be true, for we have already granted the existence of an unknown cause, of which force and matter are merely the phenomenal manifestations. It is this outer world of unknown and invisible energy that the scientist finds himself unable to deal with. The death of the body is simply the cessation of cohesion, or dissolution of partnership, between the ultimate atoms of the plasm life-molecules, by which dissolution the property called life ceases, and the atoms of the body assume their original condition, again containing their original sum of force. But what becomes of the huge force developed during the lifetime of the bodily organism? Does that vanish and become a thing of naught? My opinion is that this human force, which is the outcome of the complex union of the ultimate atoms of the plasm life-molecules, and which is but a phenomenal manifestation of the great incomprehensible cause of all phenomena, will, at the death of the body, be re-absorbed into the great animating spirit of the universe, and partake of the nature and properties of the Unknown. This is but my opinion, from which many may differ. I merely offer it as an opinion, and in no way shut my eyes to the great fact that man’s destiny is a riddle as yet unsolved. We may safely leave the matter to be dealt with according to the wisdom of that unknown cause of all things, resting quite assured that we shall be far better disposed of than we could possibly dispose of ourselves, even if we had the power. We must bow the head in a truly scientific spirit, and reply to the great question, “I cannot tell.”
“To be or not to be? that is the question,” says the immortal Shakespeare; after which he sums up the whole argument in two short lines:—