THE MOTIVE FOR SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH.
It is not my intention or wish to defend in itself the doctrine of design, nor is this the place to review the reviewer or criticise the above-quoted criticism; but such uncalled-for prejudice and illogical reasoning as shown therein do cause the question to arise, What, after all, is the real motive for scientific research?
A little over fifty years ago a young Englishman was busily engaged in gathering and arranging all kinds of facts in regard to changes in animals and plants, either under domestication or in a state of Nature. For twenty years or more he worked patiently and carefully gathering his facts, comparing and arranging them and mentally digesting all this mass of material, and, at last, in 1859, he offered to the world his theory of the Origin of Species. Before Charles Darwin, all naturalists were engaged in gathering and recording facts, and arranging them in a more or less natural order, but they failed to compare and digest them, as he did, because they were content with statistics and did not ask for reasons. That this was due to a belief in the immutability of species and the doctrine of design there can be little doubt; but that the great men who accepted that doctrine did so because it "saved intellectual toil" or "glorified ignorance" is a gross slander. They did so partly because of early training, but very largely because it was a satisfactory explanation of such problems as they happened to meet and so proved its sufficiency. When Darwin, however, came to apply it to the facts as he found them in his day, he soon proved it was not sufficient, and then was asked for the first time in biology, How did these things come to be so? The question had been asked long before in physics, chemistry, and astronomy; but until the middle of this century biologists and even geologists had been chiefly concerned with the question What? and had neglected the far more important one How? It was the asking of this question, and the answer to it which he gave, which makes Darwin the bright particular star in the scientific firmament of the nineteenth century, and no lapse of time can ever dim the luster of that honored name. However inadequate we may consider the theory of natural selection to account for all the innumerable forms of animal and plant life which have existed or do now inhabit and beautify the earth, there can be no doubt that the question as an answer to which it was offered has been for thirty-five years the mainspring of research not merely in biology but in all the field of natural science. It is easy to see how this condition was itself the result of evolution, for one can not ask the means to an end until the end is seen or known. Up to the time of Linnæus there was little general interest in zoölogy and botany, but after he had placed in systematic order such facts as were known to the scientific world of his day, others began to find all about them additional facts which had been theretofore unrecorded, and so interest in Nature began its steady rise toward the high position which it holds to-day. So long as the great majority of forms were unknown or undescribed, the only question was concerning what existed, and naturalists everywhere were busy with these facts of the existence of species; but as the records became more complete and the knowledge of natural phenomena wider spread, of course the tendency would naturally be toward inquiry as to how these innumerable forms arose. Even as early as the latter part of the eighteenth century some of the deepest thinkers were turning this question over in their minds, although they did not appreciate its great importance or its bearing on the acquisition of knowledge. Darwin himself began his career as a gatherer of facts, but his active mind soon saw the inadequacy of the doctrine of special creations, and demanded something more in accordance with the facts. The history of the development in his own mind of the famous theory to which his name is attached is a most fascinating story, but it is not necessary to enter into any details here. Suffice it to say that he became thoroughly convinced in his own mind, and actually convinced the whole scientific world, even including his most bitter opponents, that the question of the hour was not one of which species was which, nor to what family it belonged when identified, but "How did species arise?" From that day to this the whole trend of scientific study has been toward the solution of that problem, and an enormous amount of investigation by biologists, far and near, has thrown much light on its intricacies, although, when we consider all phases of the subject, including the difficulties of heredity, we feel that we have hardly made more than a beginning.
This change of position in the subject-matter of scientific research has brought about a most remarkable and far-reaching change in method, which is universally recognized as vastly superior to the old. But it seems also to have brought about an equally radical change in the spirit of investigation; and instead of the reverent work of an Owen, an Agassiz, or a Lyell, who believed they were studying the creations of an Omnipotent God, Maker and Father of all, we have the enthusiastic, energetic, all-embracing investigations and theories of a Haeckel, a Huxley, or a Spencer, who certainly can not be accused of holding any pronounced religious beliefs whatever. There can be no doubt that this change too was a very natural one; for as long as men felt that they were studying immutable creatures, there was a sense of restraint in the work, a feeling that investigation had a definite limit beyond which we could not go, and so there was little chance for speculation or theorizing on the nature of causes. When this restraint was suddenly and entirely removed by the theory of evolution the reaction was inevitable, and a strong tendency toward the other extreme set in, clearly shown by the number and variety of the theories that have been suggested and published to explain all kinds of natural phenomena. Scientists have been so entirely taken up with explaining how all the wonderful things which we find in the world about us have taken place; the doctrine of evolution has proved so completely satisfactory at every turn that there is great danger that the ultimate motive for scientific research will be completely lost to sight. Indeed, one may search a great majority of scientific works without finding a hint as to any higher motive than mere curiosity,—a curiosity differing greatly in quality and extent in differing writers, but very rarely that pure eagerness for "truth" which it sometimes professes to be. So long as the answer to the question How? is the all-important thing, and so long as that is considered the ultimate question, no proper conception of a nobler motive can be formed. But we must now consider if there is not still another question beyond the How? which is as far more important than that as that is beyond the question What? The extraordinary reverence which a certain school of scientists feel toward the question How? is clearly shown by the quotation in the earlier part of this article, and it will, no doubt, be considered impious by them that any one should presume to go beyond that question. At the same time one can not read that criticism without having forced upon him the belief that there is another and greater question to be considered, and that question may be briefly stated in the form of Why?
To which the whole creation moves"?
If, then, it is granted that this knowledge is a possibility, it is fitting that we should consider whether there is any clew to the solution of the problem in the work already done, and what effect the question will have on the methods and spirit of scientific research. We have already seen how long a time the doctrine of immutability of species held in check the tendency to theorize and led students to devote themselves to the collection and tabulation of facts. Both questions, how and why, were confused together and were answered promptly and positively: "The Creator designed them so"; and there was the end beyond appeal. When it was found, however, that this was really no answer at all to the question How? and that the true answer to that question was within the immediate grasp of the scientific world, the whole argument of design was promptly thrown aside as rubbish, and we were free! But we were not long to remain so, for now we find a new limit set to our knowledge beyond which there is no appeal, and the answer to our question Why? is now given us, "Evolution evolved them so"! Distinguishing now as we do between how and why, we find this limit is equally distasteful and causes a similar feeling of restraint; and it is only natural that, having been freed from the other, we should demand emancipation from this. Why did evolution evolve some birds into objects of such marvelous beauty? Surely we can conceive of peacocks, humming birds, and birds of paradise fully as well, perhaps even better, fitted for the struggle for existence without their gleaming colors and gorgeous plumes. Why are some flowers so fragrant to our sense of smell? We certainly know that it is no advantage to them to please us, as long as they attract insects, and we also know that odor without fragrance will answer that purpose. Was it only chance that brought about these results? It seems incredible that any person familiar with Nature's conformity to law and the mathematical improbability of inheritance of accidental variation along a favorable line can believe that these marvelous results have been governed only by chance. Surely Nature could never thrive under such a shiftless and haphazard system, and we are therefore justified in searching for the reason why. Not how beautiful birds and fragrant flowers were evolved is the essential question, but why. Yet we can never hope to know the causes until we know perfectly the means, just as we could never have hoped to know the means until we were tolerably familiar with the ends. Darwin could never have formulated his theory if he had not had the vast array of facts on which to base it, and it would never be proved if men were to give up the gathering of the still unrecorded facts. Of course, all this routine work appears in a new and far more glorious light now, and much the greater number of scientific workers are engaged in the collection of such facts as have hitherto been unknown or overlooked. Only a very few are giving the greater part of their time to theorizing on how evolution works, although we all realize the importance of that question. So it will be when we see that the question Why? is the ultimate one, for there can be no solution of this problem until the lesser ones are solved. It is neither probable nor desirable that any change of method will result, for the present historical system is so far ahead of any other that there is no danger of our giving it up; but it is both probable and desirable that investigators should approach the phenomena of Nature in a different spirit.
Of what in them is flower and fruit.