Organised material cannot grow in this fashion; it takes up material from without, not, like the crystal, arranging it on the outer surface, but ingesting it. Protoplasm cannot become fixed in any condition without being destroyed; it exhibits perpetual interchanges with the outer world; unceasing intake and output is a necessary accompaniment of its life. 'The growth of idioplasm,' as Naegeli strikingly says, 'implies a constancy of perpetual change.'
Thus, growing protoplasm can assume only such shapes as allow it to remain in constant touch with the outer world. A cubical or spherical mass of cells could not grow by the formation of new layers of cells on the outside, for these layers would deprive the centrally placed masses of cells of their conditions of existence. Similarly, an extended membrane of cells or an epithelial layer cannot add indefinitely to its thickness, else would the cells furthest removed from the outside be injured in their relations to surrounding things. To satisfy its essential conditions, protoplasm can grow only with a proportionate extension of its external surfaces. This is secured by the cells becoming arranged in threads and membranes, and its result is that the threads by branching, and the membranes by folding, produce structures whose complexity increases with growth.
This conception that the shape of growing organisms is in many respects the necessary consequence of the specific characters with which protoplasm is endowed, explains the great contrast between animals and plants in their general organisation. The contrast is the result of the difference between animal and plant metabolism, and between the ways in which animals and plants obtain their food. Plant cells elaborate protoplasm from the carbonic acid of the air, water, and easily diffusible solutions of salts, obtained from the sea or from the soil. For the chemical work of combining these, they require the active energy of sunlight. We can now see the chief requirements to which the constitution and arrangement of the cells in a multicellular plant must be adapted. Plant cells may become clothed in a thick membrane, as that would prove no hindrance to the passage of gases and easily diffusible salts; but they must be arranged so as to present the greatest possible surface to the surrounding media (i.e., to the soil and the water, the air and the sunlight) whence is drawn their supply of matter and force. The cells must turn a broad face to the outside; this they do by becoming arranged in branching rows, or in leaf-shaped flattened organs. That they may suck up water and salts from the soil, the cells are arranged as a highly branched system of roots, covered with delicate hairs, and penetrating the soil in every direction. To inhale the carbonic acid from the air, and to be subjected to the influence of sunlight, the aerial part of the plant stretches out its branches towards the light, and becomes folded into the flat leaves, the structure of which reveals a suitability for assimilation. Thus the whole architecture of a plant is superficial and visible; internal differentiation into organs and tissues either is wanting, or, compared with animals, is very scanty. It is only in the higher plants that the internal fibro-vascular tissues appear; these serve a double purpose: they act as channels along which the sap passes, so bringing together the different materials absorbed by roots and leaves; and they have the mechanical function of strengthening the stem and branches. The different mode of nutrition of animals results in a totally different structural plan. Animal cells absorb material that is already organised, and that they may do so their cells are either quite naked, so affording an easy passage for solid particles, or they are clothed only by a thin membrane, through which solutions of slightly diffusible, organic colloids may pass. Therefore, unlike plants, multicellular animals display a compact structure with internal organs adapted to the different conditions which result from the method of nutrition peculiar to animals. A unicellular animal takes organic particles bodily into its protoplasm, and forming around them temporary cavities known as food vacuoles, treats them chemically. The multicellular animal has become shaped so as to enclose a space within its body into which solid organic food-particles are carried and digested, thereafter, in a state of solution, to be shared by the single cells lining the cavity. In this way the animal body does not require so close a relation with the medium surrounding it; its food, the first requirement of an organism, is distributed to it from inside outwards. In its further complication the animal organisation proceeds along the same lines. The system of internal hollows becomes more complicated by the specialisation of secreting surfaces, and by the formation of an alimentary canal, and of a body cavity separate from the alimentary canal.
In plants, it is the external surface that is increased as much as possible. In animals, in obedience to their different requirements, increase takes place in the internal surface. The specialisation of plants displays itself in organs externally visible—in leaves, twigs, flowers, and tendrils. The specialisation of animals is concealed within the body, for the internal surface is the starting-point for the formation of the organs and tissues.
Comparative embryology shows that, however varied the forms and functions of the numerous animal organs may be, the method of their development is remarkably similar. There are required only the slightest variations of a few simple general laws. For these I may refer readers to a series of special investigations (Studies on the Germ-layer Theory, Oscar and Richard Hertwig), and to the fourth chapter of my Embryology, 'General Discussion of the Principles of Development.'
In these works and in the foregoing pages I have tried to show that the multiplication of the egg-cell by division is itself a source of increasing complexity and an active principle in the determination of form, since the products of the division unite to form a higher unity. But in another way the multiplication of cells leads to differentiation among the cells arising from the egg. Although each of these resembles the parent egg, from which they arose by doubling division, yet they differ from it in one point: they are no longer a whole, but have become the subordinate parts of a higher unity, that is, of a higher organism. A cell that is no longer a whole, but the part of a whole, has entered upon reciprocal relations with other cells, and in the functions of its life is limited by these others and by the whole. The further this is carried the more the cell falls short of its independence as an elementary organism, and appears only as a part with its functions subordinate and in dependence upon the whole.[18]
Although from the point of view of morphology it has become more and more imperative to regard the cell as the unit of the higher organism, still, from the physiological point of view the higher organisms must be regarded as masses of material acting as wholes, and composed of several grades of structural parts, subordinate in function to the whole, and displaying only a limited division of capacities. And so the cell theory, according to which the cell was exalted unduly as the unit of life, the centre of life, the elementary organism, must take limitation and correction from these wider views. This has already been insisted upon by many physiologists of insight—for instance, by Naegeli (see p. 30), by Sachs, and by Vöchting.
'Cell formation,' declares Sachs (Physiology of Plants, p. 73), 'is a phenomenon very general, it is true, in organic life, but still only of secondary significance; at all events, it is merely one of the numerous expressions of the formative forces which reside in all matter, in the highest degree, however, in organic substance.' 'Essentially, every plant, however highly organized, is a continuous mass of protoplasm, surrounded externally by a cell wall and penetrated internally by numerous transverse and longitudinal partitions.'
My conception receives strong support from the way in which Vöchting set forth the relations of the cell to the whole:
'Is the circumstance that a cell, separated from the organism, is able to survive and build up the whole again a proof of the independent life of the cells while in the organism? I believe it to be only a proof that the life of the organism is always dependent upon the cell, that the life is inherent in the cell, and that the life of a compound organism is merely the resultant of the vital phenomena of its single cells; but by no means that the cell when isolated displays the same functions as while it is a part of the organism. The cell while in the organism and the cell separated from the organism and self-sufficing, are quite different. We must regard the functions of a cell that is part of an organism, disregarding external influences, as determined by the whole organism, and only by the cell itself, in so far as that forms a greater or less part of the whole organism. When not part of an organism, the cell is independent, and entirely determines its own function. Nowhere is it easier than in this case to confuse possibilities with facts, and nowhere is the confusion more fatal. From a morphological point of view, one may confidently regard the cell as an individual; but it must be borne in mind that an abstraction has been made. Physiologically considered, the cell is an individual only when it is isolated from a complex and is independent; of this no abstraction can be made.'