EVOLUTION IN THE LIGHT OF THEOSOPHY: by H. T. Edge, B. A. (Cantab.)

AFTER studying the various theories of biological evolution and the controversies of their respective exponents, one reaches the conclusion that each of the theorists is worrying a small fragment of the truth, and that the actual facts comprehend not only all these theories but a good deal more besides. There is (1) the theory of continuous evolution, which supposes that forms reproduce other forms in a continuous and uniform series; and there is (2) the theory of mutation or saltation, which supposes that new species appear suddenly. An American professor of palaeontology is quoted as reconciling these two supposedly conflicting views by still another hypothesis, which supposes that evolution is on the whole continuous, but with occasional jumps and divergences.

Then there is the controversy as to whether changes are produced by the influence of external environment or whether they occur within the germ; or whether, again, both these influences co-operate.

The confusion is due mainly to two causes: the attempt to define the operations of nature within too narrow limits; and the attempt to form an idea of evolution by considering its visible products only, and apart from the invisible something which is manifesting itself in those products. Our thought should reach out to wider horizons.

All growth consists in the physical manifestation of something which previously was not physical. Take the case of a tree growing from a seed. The tons of material composing the body of that tree have been collected from the air and the soil. Within the seed was enshrined something (which afterwards passes into the tree) having the power to perform this wonderful operation. We may say, if we like, that the whole tree existed in potentia in the seed; but unless this expression is to remain a mere logical figure, we must attach a concrete meaning to it. In other words, we must inquire what was that something which existed in the seed. Here we are driven right up against the real point at issue; out of the seed comes the tree, the tree cannot come from any other source than a seed or its equivalent (such as a slip); hence the whole future tree must be in some way locked up within the seed. But in what guise? Is there perhaps a miniature tree folded up within that husk? But even so, whence that miniature tree and why does it grow? Theorists, in spite of their alleged practicality, are often contented with abstractions that would not satisfy a more concrete mind; and for this reason many inquirers will not be satisfied with the explanation that there is some "force" or "tendency" in the seed. Theorists may deal with "tendencies," but the Theosophist will demand something less imaginary and abstract. The primary postulates demanded by theorists are often so comprehensive as to amount to a begging of the main question. Give Archimedes his standing ground and he will move the whole earth; grant Euclid his postulates, and he will soon knock you off a few theorems; give a biological theorist his "tendencies," and the rest is as easy as rolling off a log. But the inquirer would like to know something about those tendencies.

So then there is locked up in the seed, which is to become a tree, a tendency. Translating this highly abstract and even theological expression into the matter-of-fact language of Theosophy, we get this: that the whole future physical tree has existed beforehand in some form other than physical, and complete in everything except the purely physical attributes. Size and dimension, mass and solidity, being physical attributes, do not pertain to the tree in this antecedent form. Is science prepared to say that that which has no dimensions nor any other physical attributes does not exist? If so, then we are reduced to the conclusion that the physical visible universe is self-creative and all-sufficient and all-inclusive—in short, that physical matter is the prime material, the source of all intelligence, substance, all energy, everything; in which case it is of course useless to try to explain it, and it must be simply accepted as an irresolvable fact. But, setting aside such an untenable proposition, if physical matter has not produced itself, if it is not the ultimate unknowable, let us ask from what was it produced? Driven thus to the conclusion that there are states of existence prior to physical matter, is it out-of-the-way to suggest that the tree within the seed exists in one of those states?

Accustomed as we are to think in terms of physical matter and of its principal attribute—extension (or, as we wrongly call it, space)—we cannot imagine that there can be room in the universe for anything else. We think that matter entirely fills space; we imagine that, if a thing is not in what we call "space," it cannot be anywhere. But space is in reality immeasurable; it can have no dimensions, no up-and-down, no fore-and-aft, no right-and-left. It may well be that physical matter, so far from crowding it, does not incommode it at all—that there is "plenty of room" still, so to say.

Another consequence of our habit of regarding physical extension as a plenum is that when we have to allow for the existence of anything else, we think it necessary to suppose that that something else must be extremely small. Thus the tree in the seed has to be extremely small, the atom has to be extremely small, and so on; and this simply because we imagine that space is packed full with the physical objects. But what logical reason is there why there should not be a world full of trees, animals, and every other form that is become physical, all in a pre-physical state, and yet by no means interfering with anything in the physical world? Why, even in the familiar terms of physical science, this view is quite reasonable; for the atoms, we are told, are so minute in comparison with the intervals between them that they are like planets swimming in an ocean of ether. These atoms are of course utterly imperceptible to any of our senses; we know them only through their groupings and motions. Now suppose there are other atoms between them, or even different groupings of the same atoms, what would we know about these? Their vibrations might not happen to be attuned to our physical senses.

We have imagined, then, our tree as existing, complete in all but physical attributes, in this world, but in a state where it is beyond the ken of our physical senses. The microscopic germ within the seed is the point through which the change from pre-physical to physical is operated—a door, as it were, through which the tree has to pass, admitting it to its new state. This point is like one of the knots where the fabrics of these two worlds are woven together; the very small seems in some way to be the gateway to another world.

But let us extend the idea to the case of evolution generally. So far we have taken a tree as an instance; but, on the same analogy, all organized physical beings will have pre-existed in this pre-physical state. The germ, the point within the germ, is their gateway to physical existence; but before passing through this portal, they have already existed, complete in all but physical attributes, in another state. To sum up the argument—we must predicate the existence of a type-world, wherein exist the prototypes, the models, of all that is to become physical; and we have already seen that it is necessary, on other grounds, to predicate the existence of such a world.

This hypothesis will explain the riddles of evolution readily. In one point in particular does it clear up difficulties. If organisms grow and change in the physical state, why may they not also grow and change in the pre-physical state? This would fully account for the so-called "saltations" and for the "missing links." An organism, after passing out of physical life, shedding all its physical atoms, and resuming once more its former non-physical state, might undergo modification while in that state and before re-entering the physical condition. Thus, when it reappeared, it would be different, and biologists would call it a mutation or saltation.

Palaeontology shows us that in past epochs there were on earth forms intermediate between different forms existing on earth now. This at least indicates that the complete chain is not necessarily all upon the earth at one time; and this again agrees with the idea that the earth is never at any one time fitted to support every form of life. This being so, how can we possibly trace a chain of evolution by reproduction? A good idea of the process of evolution can be got by watching from one side the ascending threads of a revolving screw. They pass up and up, one after the other, but we cannot see where they are connected; to see that, we must take an all-round view. In a similar way the organisms are passing around a spiral curve, of which curve but one side comes to our view; hence we see it as a number of disconnected elements.

The process of evolution, in fact, is not carried on entirely within the limits of our physical vision—surely not an unreasonable statement. It would be strange indeed, if all that we see were all that there is. Hence biologists should expect, as a logical inference from their own conditions of research, that the results at which they arrive shall be incomplete; the imperfection of these results is rather to be regarded as evidence of their truth than the contrary.

But, instead of taking the case of animals, suppose we take that of human beings; for here we can view the matter more from the inside. We are human beings ourselves and are conscious of our own mind. This mind, as we know, undergoes development; it gains experience from day to day and ends up with a very different outfit from that with which it started. When this inner being again enters into the make-up of physical humanity, will it be the same as before? Shall we have the same old horoscope at our next nativity? Jupiter and Saturn forbid! But in case any reader should cavil over the question of death and rebirth, we can consider the matter apart from those. We are actually being reincarnated all the time; for does not our body continually discard old atoms and take on new ones? And does not the growing and changing body accommodate itself to the requirements set by our mind? If not, what do habit and exercise amount to? We can create for ourselves a body different from the one we have now, by muscular exercise, temperance, intemperance, and other means. So here we have a definite example of the process of growth and evolution. Death itself is but a major change, similar in kind, if greater in degree, to the lesser deaths that are taking place in us every day.

The physical structure is slow in its movements and conservative in its habits; and so in the course of a life in the physical state a misfit is apt to result; and this is adjusted by death and rebirth. It is reasonable to suppose—indeed it is inevitable—that the animals, in their own smaller and slower way, learn while they live, and that the indwelling animal monad is not forever doomed to reside in the same kind of form, but passes very gradually on to higher forms.

The species that we see and study are the beads on the string. It is almost like studying the different houses which a man may have built and left standing while he himself has gone elsewhere. These would give a clue to his mental development; but we must presuppose the existence of the man.

The question of physical reproduction is closely involved with that of evolution; and here again biology investigates but a few of the factors that enter into the process. Biology gets down as far as the microscopic germinal speck, and naturally enough has to stop there. A fertilized ovum provides the essential conditions for the entry of a life, but it needs other kinds of research to trace the source of that life.

In the light of Theosophy, evolution becomes a vast and entrancing study, for it concerns worlds and ages. Apart, however, from merely curious interest, this study is of the greatest positive importance to humanity, for the reason that inadequate theories are giving rise to various movements that we believe to threaten great harm, should all their ideas be carried out. A king who should ruthlessly slaughter all those among his subjects who did not happen to suit his ideals of what a subject should be, would justly be considered a cruel and stupid tyrant; yet there are proposed methods of eliminating the "unfit," which, though clothed in ambitious language, seem none the less monstrous. Hence the need of greater knowledge to prevent erroneous ideas from incarnating as monstrous acts.