Charles certainly read Zoonomia, during the holidays after his first year at Edinburgh University. He even wrote the word on the opening page of his `B Notebook', the origin of Origin. So his grandfather's views must have influenced him, but probably only by affirming the possibility of species change.[1] The big difference was that from the very beginning, Charles was looking for a mechanism. He didn't want to point out that species could change - he wanted to know bow they changed. And it is this that distinguishes him from nearly all of the competition.
The most serious competitor we have mentioned already: Wallace. Darwin acknowledges their joint discovery in the second paragraph of the introduction to Origin. But Darwin wrote an influential and controversial book, whereas Wallace wrote one short paper in a technical journal. Darwin took the theory much further, assembled much more evidence, and paid more attention to possible objections.
He prefaced Origin with `An Historical Sketch' of views of the origin of species, and in particular their mutability. A footnote mentions a remarkable statement in Aristotle, who asked why the various parts
[1] What would have happened-if Darwin had gone back in time and killed his own grandfather?
of the body fit together, so that, for example, the upper and lower teeth meet tidily, instead of grinding against each other. The ancient Greek philosopher anticipated natural selection:
Wheresoever, therefore, all things together (that is all the parts of one whole) happened like as if they were made for the sake of something, these were preserved, having been appropriately constituted by an internal spontaneity; and whatsoever things were not thus constituted, perished, and still perish.
In other words: if by chance, or some unspecified process the components carried out some useful function, they would appear in later generations, but if they didn't, the creature that possessed them would not survive.
Aristotle would have made short shrift of Paley.
Next, Darwin tackles Lamarck, whose views date from 1801. Lamarck contended that species could descend from other species, mostly because close study shows endless tiny graduations and varieties within a species, so the boundaries between distinct species is much fuzzier than we usually think. But Darwin notes two flaws. One is the belief that acquired characteristics can be inherited - Darwin cites the giraffe's long neck as an example. The other is that Lamarck believed in `progress' - a one-way ascent to higher and higher forms of organisation.
A long series of minor figures follows. Among them is one noteworthy but obscure fellow, Patrick Matthew. In 1831, he published a book about naval timber, in which the principle of natural selection was stated in an appendix. Naturalists failed to read the book, until Matthew drew attention to his anticipation of Darwin's central idea in the Gardener's Chronicle in 1860.
Now Darwin introduces a better-known forerunner, the Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation. This book was published anonymously in 1844 by Robert Chambers; it is clear that he was also its author. The medical schools of Edinburgh were awash with the realisation that entirely different animals have remarkably similar anatomies, suggesting a common origin and therefore the mutability of species. For example, the same basic arrangement of bones occurs in the human hand, the paw of a dog, the wing of a bird, and the fin of a whale. If each were a separate creation, God must have been running out of ideas.
Chambers was a socialite - he played golf - and he decided to make the scientific vision of life on Earth available to the common man. A born journalist, Chambers outlined not just the history of life, but that of the entire cosmos. And he filled the book with sly digs at `those dogs of the clergy'. The book was an overnight sensation, and each successive edition slowly removed various blunders that had made the first edition easy to attack on scientific grounds. The vilified clergy thanked their God that the author had not begun with one of the later editions.
Darwin, who respected the Church, had to refer to Vestiges, but he also had to distance himself from it. In any case, he found it woefully incomplete. In his `Historical Sketch', Darwin quoted from the tenth `and much improved' edition, objecting that the anonymous author of Vestiges cannot account for the way organisms are adapted to their environments or lifestyles. He takes up the same point in his introduction, suggesting that the anonymous author would presumably say that:
After a certain number of unknown generations, some bird had given birth to a woodpecker, and some plant to the misseltoe {sic}, and that these had been produced perfect as we now see them; but this assumption seems to me to be no explanation, for it leaves the case of the coadaptations of organic beings to each other and to their physical conditions of life, untouched and unexplained.
More heavyweights follow, interspersed with lesser figures. The first heavyweight is Richard Owen, who was convinced that species could
change, adding that to a zoologist the word `creation' means `a process he knows not what'. The next is Wallace. Darwin reviews his interactions with both, at some length. He also mentions Herbert Spencer, who considered the breeding of domesticated varieties of animals as evidence that species could change in the wild, without human intervention. Spencer later became a major populariser of Darwin's theories. He introduced the memorable phrase `survival of the fittest', which unfortunately has caused more harm than good to the Darwinian cause, by promoting a rather simple-minded version of the theory.
An unexpected name is that of the Reverend Baden Powell, whose 1855 `Essays on the Unity of Worlds' states that the introduction of new species is a natural process, not a miracle. Credit for mutability of species is also given to Karl Ernst von Baer, Huxley, and Hooker.
Darwin was determined not to miss out anyone with a legitimate claim, and in all he lists more than twenty people who in various ways anticipated parts of this theory. He is absolutely explicit that he is not claiming credit for the idea that species can change, which was common currency in scientific circles - and, as Baden Powell shows, beyond. What Darwin is laying claim to is not the idea of evolution, but that of natural selection as an evolutionary mechanism.
So ... we come full circle. Does an innovative idea change the world, or does a changing world generate the idea?
Yes.
It's complicity. Both of these things happen - not once, but over and over again, each progressively altering the other. Innovations redirect the course of human civilisation. New social directions encourage further innovation. The world of human ideas, and the world of things, recursively modify each other.
That is what happens to a planet when a species evolves that is
not merely intelligent, but what we like to call extelligent. One that can store its cultural capital outside individual minds. Which lets that capital grow virtually without limit, and be accessible to almost anybody in any succeeding generation.
Extelligent species take new ideas and run with them. Before the ink was dry on Origin, biologists and laymen were already trying to test its ideas, shoot them down, push them further. If Darwin had written Ology, and if nobody else had written something like Origin, then Victorian extelligence would have been enfeebled, and perhaps the modern world would have taken longer to arrive.
But it was evolution time. Somebody would have written such a book, and soon. And in that alternat(iv)e world of if, he or she would have got the credit instead.
So it's only fair to give Darwin the credit in this world. Steam engine time notwithstanding.
NINETEEN
LIES TO DARWIN
ARCHCHANCELLOR RIDCULLY'S MOUTH DROPPED OPEN.
`You mean killed?' he said.
+++ No +++, Hex wrote, +++ I mean vanished. Darwin disappears from Roundworld in 1850. This is a new development. That is to say, it has always happened, but has always happened only for the last two minutes +++
`I really hate time travel,' sighed the Dean.
`Kidnapped?' said Ponder, hurrying across the hall.
+++ Unknown. Phase space currently contains proto-histories in which h
e reappears after a fraction of one second and others where he never reappears at all. Clarity must be restored to this new node +++
`And you only tell us this now?' said the Dean.
+++ It has only just happened +++
`But,' the Dean attempted, `when you looked at this ... history before, this wasn't happening!'
+++ Correct. But that was then then, this is then now. Something has been changed. I surmise that this is as a result of our activities. And, having happened, it has always happened, from the point of view of an observer in Roundworld +++
`It's like a play, Dean,' said Ponder Stibbons. `The characters just see the act they're in. They don't see the scenery being shifted because that's not part of the play.'
+++ Despite being wrong in every important respect, that is a very good analogy +++ Hex wrote.
`Have you any idea where he is?' said Ridcully. +++ No +++
`Well, don't just sit there, man, find him!'
Rincewind reappeared above the lawn, and rolled expertly when he hit the ground. Other wizards, nothing like so experienced at dealing with the vicissitudes of the world, lay about groaning or staggered around uncertainly.
`It wears off,' he said, as he stepped over them. `You might throw up a bit at first. Other symptoms of rapid cross-dimensional travel are short-term memory loss, ringing in the ears, constipation, diarrhoea, hot flushes, confusion, bewilderment, a morbid dread of feet, disorientation, nose bleeds, ear twinges, grumbling of the spleen, widgeons, and short-term memory loss.'
`I think I'd like to ... thing ... end of your life thing ... ' murmured a young wizard, crawling across the damp grass. Nearby, another wizard had pulled off his boots and was screaming at his toes.
Rincewind sighed and made a grab at an elderly wizard, who was staring around like a lost lamb. He was also soaking wet, having apparently also landed in the fountain.
He looked familiar. It was impossible to know all the wizards in UU, of course, but this one he had definitely seen before.
`Are you the Chair of Oblique Frogs?' he said.
The man blinked at him. `I ... don't know,' he said. `Am I?'
`Or the Professor of Revolvings?' said Rincewind. `I used to write down my name on a piece of paper before this sort of thing. That's always a help. You look a bit like the Professor of Revolvings.'
`Do I?' said the man.
This looked like a very bad case. `Let's find you your pointy hat and some cocoa, shall we? You'll soon feel-'
The Luggage landed with a thump, raised itself on its legs, and trotted away. The possible Professor of Revolvings stared at it.
`That? Oh, it's just the Luggage,' said Rincewind. The man didn't move. `Sapient pearwood, you know?' Rincewind carried on, watching him anxiously. `It's very clever wood. You can't get the very clever wood any more, not around here.'
`It moves about?' said the possible professor.
`Oh, yes. Everywhere,' said Rincewind.
`I know of no plant life that moves about!'
`Really? I wish I didn't,' said Rincewind, fervently, gripping the man a little tighter. `Come on, after a nice warm drink you'll-'
`I must examine it closely! I am aware, of course of the so-called Venus Fly-'
`Please don't!' Rincewind pleaded, pulling the man back. `You cannot botanise the Luggage!'
The bewildered man looked around with a desperation that was shading into anger.
`Who are you, sir? Where is this place? Why are all these people wearing pointy hats? Is this Oxford? What has happened to me!'
A chilly feeling was creeping over Rincewind. Quite probably, he alone of all the wizards had read Ponder's briefings as they arrived by surly porter; it paid to know what you might have to run away from. One had included a picture of a man who looked as if he was evolving all by himself, an effect caused by the riot of facial hair. This man was not that man. Not yet. But Rincewind could see that he would be.
`Um,' he said, `I think you should come and meet people.'
It seemed to the wizards that Mr Darwin took it all very well, after the initial and quite understandable screaming.
It helped that they told him quite a lot of lies. No one would like to be told that they came from a universe created quite by accident and, moreover, by the Dean. It could only cause bad feeling. If you were told you were meeting your maker, you'd want something better.
It was Ponder and Hex who solved that. Roundworld's history offered a lot of opportunities, after all.
`I didn't feel any lightning strike,' Darwin said, looking around the Uncommon Room.
`Ah, you wouldn't have done,' said Ponder. `The whole force of it threw you here.'
`Another world ... ' said Darwin. He looked at the wizards. `And you are ... magical practitioners ...'
`Do have a little more sherry,' said the Chair of Indefinite Studies. The sherry glass in Darwin's hand filled up again. `You create sherry?' he said, aghast.
`Oh no, that's done by grapes and sunshine and so on,' said Ridcully. `My colleague just moved it from the decanter over there. It's a simple trick.'
`We're all very good at it,' said the Dean cheerfully.
`Magic is basically just movin' stuff around,' said Ridcully, but Darwin was looking past him. The Librarian had just knuckled into the room, wearing the old green robe he wore for important occa
sions or when he'd had a bath. He climbed into a chair and held up a glass; it filled instantly, and a banana dropped into it.
`That is Pongo pongo!' said Darwin, pointing a shaking finger. `An ape!'
`Well done that man!' said Ridcully. `You'd be amazed at how many people get that wrong! He's our Librarian. Very good at it, too. Now, Mr Darwin, there's a delicate matter we-'
`It's another vision, isn't it?' said Darwin. `It's my health, I know it. I have been working too hard.' He tapped the chair. `But this wood feels solid. This sherry is quite passable. But magic, I must
tell you, does not exist!' Beside him, with a little gurgle, his glass refilled.
Just one moment, sir, please,' said Ponder. `Did you say another vision?'
Darwin put his head in his hands. `I though it was an epiphany,' he groaned. `I thought that God himself appeared unto me and explained His design. It made so much sense. I had relegated Him to the status of Prime Mover, but now I see that He is immanent in His creation, constantly imparting direction and meaning to it all ... or,' he looked up, blinking, `so I thought ... '
The wizards stood frozen. Then, very carefully, Ridcully said: `Divine visitation, eh? And when was this, exactly?'
`It would have been after breakfast,' moaned Darwin. `It was raining, and then I saw this strange beetle on the window. The room filled up with beetles-'
He stopped, mouth open; a thin blue haze surrounded him.
Ridcully lowered his hand.
`Well, well,' he said. `What about that, Mr Stibbons?'
Ponder was scrabbling desperately at the paper on his clipboard.
`I've no idea!' he said. `Hex hasn't mentioned it!'
The Archchancellor grinned the grim little grin of someone sensing that the game, at last, was afoot.
`Mono Island, remember?' said Ridcully, while Darwin stared blankly at nothing. `A god with a thing about beetles?'
`I'd rather forget,' Ponder shuddered. `But, but ... no, it couldn't be him. How could the God of Evolution get into Roundworld?'
`Same way the Auditors did?' said Ridcully. `All the spacetime continuumuum stuff we're doing, who's to say we aren't leaving a few doors ajar? Well, we can't let the barmy old boy run around there! You and Rincewind, meet me in the Great Hall in one hour!'
Ponder remembered the God of Evolution, who had been so proud of developing a creature even better fitted to survive than mankind. It had been a cockroach.
`We should go right away,' he said, firmly.
`Why? We can move in time!' said Ridcully. `The hour, Mr Stibbons, is for you to come up with some way to kill Auditors!'
`They're indestructible, sir!' `All right - ninety minutes!'
TWENTY
THE SECRETS OF LIFE
THE DISCWORLD VERSION OF DARWIN'S vision may not be quite what Roundworld's historians of science like to tell us, but the two will have been done converged on to the same timeline if the wizards manage to have will
defeated the Auditors, so we can concentrate on the after-effects of that convergence. In any case some features are common to both versions of Darwinian history, including apes, beetles, and parasitic wasps. By
contemplating these organisms, and many others - especially those con founded barnacles, of course - Darwin was led to his grand synthesis.
Today, no area of biology remains unaffected by the discovery of evolution. The evidence that today's species evolved from different ones, and that this process still continues, is overwhelming. Very little modern biology would make sense without the over-arching framework of evolution. If Darwin were reincarnated today, he would recognise many of his ideas, perhaps slightly reformulated, in the conventional scientific wisdom. The big principle of natural selection would be one of them. But he would also observe debate, perhaps even controversy, about this fundamental pillar of his thinking. Not whether natural selection happens, not whether it drives much of evolution; but whether it is the only driving force.
He would also find many new layers of detail filling some of the gaps in his theories. The most important and far-reaching of these is DNA, the magic molecule that carries genetic `information', the physical form of heredity. Darwin was sure that organisms could pass on their characteristics to their offspring, but he had no idea how this process was implemented, and what physical form it took. Today we are so familiar with the role of genes, and their chemical structure, that any discussion of evolution is likely to focus mainly on DNA chemistry. The role of natural selection, indeed the role of organisms, has been downgraded: the molecule has triumphed.
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