Contributions to Evolution
To me it seems that my contributions
to the theory of evolution have been mainly these:
1. The identification of heredity
and memory and the corollaries relating to sports,
the reversion to remote ancestors, the phenomena of
old age, the causes of the sterility of hybrids and
the principles underlying longevity—all
of which follow as a matter of course. This was
Life and Habit. [1877.]
2. The re-introduction of teleology
into organic life which, to me, seems hardly (if at
all) less important than the Life and Habit theory.
This was Evolution Old and New. [1879.]
3. An attempt to suggest an
explanation of the physics of memory. I was
alarmed by the suggestion and fathered it upon Professor
Hering who never, that I can see, meant to say anything
of the kind, but I forced my view on him, as it were,
by taking hold of a sentence or two in his lecture,
on Memory as a Universal Function of Organised Matter
and thus connected memory with vibrations. This
was Unconscious Memory. [1880.]
What I want to do now [1885] is to
connect vibrations not only with memory but with the
physical constitution of that body in which the memory
resides, thus adopting Newland’s law (sometimes
called Mendelejeff’s law) that there is only
one substance, and that the characteristics of the
vibrations going on within it at any given time will
determine whether it will appear to us as (say) hydrogen,
or sodium, or chicken doing this, or chicken doing
the other. [This touched upon in the concluding chapter
of Luck or Cunning? 1887.]
I would make not only the mind, but
the body of the organism to depend on the characteristics
of the vibrations going on within it. The same
vibrations which remind the chicken that it wants iron
for its blood actually turn the pre-existing matter
in the egg into the required material. According
to this view the form and characteristics of the elements
are as much the living expositions of certain vibrations—are
as much our manner of perceiving that the vibrations
going on in that part of the one universal substance
are such and such—as the colour yellow
is our perception that a substance is being struck
by vibrations of light, so many to the second, or
as the action of a man walking about is our mode of
perceiving that such and such another combination of
vibrations is, for the present, going on in the substance
which, in consequence, has assumed the shape of the
particular man.
It is somewhere in this neighbourhood
that I look for the connection between organic and
inorganic.