Darwin’s Presence as Proof in The Origin of Species-4

43 Conclusion: Agency, Revision, and Loss of Voice Although Darwin’s subtle reminder of what is beyond our comprehension helps to contain his own argument—from his analogies to complex metaphors—in the bounds of what we can understand, his argument is not without its own gaps or instabilities. We have seen Darwin simultaneously critique the “old cosmologists” and express disbelief at the idea of independent creation, while aligning elements of theology with his own arguments. While, in such moments, Darwin heightens the grandness of his theories, we also recognize what Gillian Beer describes when she says: “Darwin was…obliged to dramatise his struggle with natural theological assumptions within a language weighted towards natural theology. He must write against the grain of his discourse” (53). This need to write against a discourse steeped in natural theology and divine intent can be seen in Darwin’s steady replacement of the view of independent creation with his own argument. And yet, Darwin asks: “Have we any right to assume that the Creator works by intellectual powers like those of man?” Similarly, in the second edition of his text, published in 1860, he famously inserts the Creator into the final passage; “There is grandeur in this view of life, with its several powers, having been originally breathed into a few forms or one” is transformed to read: “There is grandeur in this view of life…having been originally breathed by the Creator into a few forms or one3.” Similarly, in the conclusion of all editions, Darwin boldly declares: To my mind it accords better with what we know of the laws impressed on matter by the Creator, that the production and extinction of the past and present inhabitants of the world should have been due to secondary causes, like those determining the birth and death of the individual. When I view all beings not as special creations, but as the lineal descendents of some few beings which lived long before the first bed of the Silurian system was deposited, they seem to me to become ennobled. (Darwin, 383) 3 Respectively, Origin 1st ed., 384; Origin 2nd ed., 490 44 In this way, Darwin selectively uses the presence of a divine power to provide authority and power to his own arguments. We see a tension or flux with regards to Darwin both pushing against an old view that he scorns, and using elements of theology to give his own argument power. This unsteadiness, with Darwin scorning and simultaneously echoing elements of theological arguments, more broadly exposes Darwin’s attempts to infuse his own argument with the authoritative certainty and grandeur, even as he pushed against the deterministic mode of natural theology. Despite an effort to make his argument strong and persuasive to readers, Darwin’s prose often exposes the challenge of articulating what change and adaptation are attributed to. Variations and favorable adaptations are among the pieces of argument that Darwin repeatedly attributes to “chance.” However, there is arguably something unsteady in the term; Darwin gives chance no further or precise foundation. Although he asserts it authoritatively as a potential cause of variation, Early in his text, Darwin states: “every slight modification, which in the course of ages chanced to arise…would tend to be preserved” (75). In a customary appeal to the reader, where he calls upon us to imagine, trust, and remember, Darwin expands on this notion of chance: “It is, however, far more necessary to bear in mind that there are many unknown laws of correlation of growth, which…will cause other modifications, often of the most unexpected nature” (78). This differs, in a sense, from Darwin’s gesture to our ignorance, to what the mind can’t comprehend, in the way that he grounds the unexpected in “laws.” Additionally, as Darwin tells us to “turn to the nectar-feeding insects in our imaginary case,” he follows: “Bearing such facts in mind, I can see no reason to doubt that an accidental deviation in the size and form of the body…might profit a bee or other insect” (85). Just as he grounds the “unknown” in “laws,” 45 which give a sense of security to his argument, we are to bear “facts” in mind to help with an explanation of “accidental” processes. “Mere chance,” Darwin tells us, “might cause one variety to differ in some character from its parents…but this alone would never account for so habitual an amount of difference” (98). But Darwin is unable to show what exactly does account for the difference. In fact, it isn’t until significantly later in his text when Darwin admits, “I have hitherto sometimes spoken as if the variations…had been due to chance. This, of course, is a wholly incorrect expression, but it serves to acknowledge plainly our ignorance of the cause of each particular variation” (115). This admission so late after his frequent use of the term creates instability in his argument, which exposes one of the many difficulties Darwin exhibits with regard to describing the process of natural selection. He attempted to present his argument in a way that pushed against the deterministic mode of natural theology, but his text exposes an element of flux with regard to precise articulation. By repeatedly referring to chance as a cause of variation and modification, while suddenly decrying it as a “wholly incorrect expression,” Darwin disrupts its precision. In this way, we might see “chance” as partly standing in for what Darwin can’t fully explain; we may come to see it, too, in conjunction with the different modes he uses to address agency— namely the role of nature personified (often interchangeable with “Natural Selection”) and even, as we have seen, his occasional use of the Creator. This sense of agency is often subtly present, through multiple modes. Early in his chapter on “Natural Selection” and in his text itself, Darwin argues, “the conditions of life are supposed to have undergone a change, and this would manifestly be favourable to natural selection, by giving a better chance of profitable variations occurring; and unless profitable variations do occur, natural selection can do nothing” (75). Continuing, he 46 explains that the variations need not be extreme, seeing that “man can certainly produce great results by adding up in any given direction mere individual differences, so could Nature, but far more easily, from having incomparably longer time at her disposal” (76). In these passages, we see Darwin’s focus move between agents—from natural selection that “can do nothing” if variations are not profitable, to a personified figure of Nature, gendered as female in a classically poetic move. In a similar moment, Darwin argues that Man can act only on external and visible characters: nature cares nothing for appearances, expect in so far as they may be useful to any being. She can act on every internal organ, on every shade of constitutional difference, on the whole machinery of life. Man selects only for his own good; Nature only for that of the being which she tends. (76) Man (the antagonist) and his means of artificial selection are here opposed with the omniscient and encompassing care of Nature who acts on the “whole machinery of life.” What man is to artificial selection, the metaphor of Nature becomes to natural selection. In this way, Darwin’s metaphor of Nature allows him to move beyond domestic microcosms—beyond artificial selection—and allows him to speak instead with authority for broader expanses of nature. In a similar way that Darwin uses the presence of “chance” to address what is simply unexpected, or beyond any explanation he can give, he uses metaphorical agents to authoritatively address processes he can’t directly witness. Closely following this passage, Darwin tells us: “It may be said that natural selection is daily and hourly scrutinising, throughout the world, every variation, even the slightest” even though “We see nothing of these slow changes in progress” (77). Paralleling the opposition of man seeing only visible characteristics, while Nature can see in terms of every creature’s well being, Darwin’s description of natural selection—as an active, conscious force—opposes it to our inability to even fully see the variations that are being selected. The forces of Nature and natural selection begin to blend together as agents in the 47 processes that Darwin is describing, in this way appearing integral to the formation of his argument. During the process of revision, as Darwin attempts to clarify terms, bolster his argument with new evidence, and address criticisms of his work, he calls attention to the problem of such metaphors in his argument. In the first edition of his text, the roles of natural selection and nature appear in his argument, often a interchangeable with one another, yet by Darwin’s final edition, “nature” becomes uniformly capitalized, no longer blending into the fabric of his language, but appearing overtly metaphorical. More directly, Darwin revises “It may be said that natural selection is daily and hourly scrutinising” to read: “[I]t may metaphorically be said.”4 As George Levine suggests: “By the sixth edition, Darwin apologizes for his metaphors, but even then he doesn’t edit them away” (Darwin and the Novelists, 100). In his fifth edition, published in 1869, Darwin explicitly clarifies his use of Nature, stating: “Nature, if I may be allowed to personify the natural preservation or survival of the fittest, cares nothing for appearances, except in so far as they are useful to any being” (Origin 4th ed., 95). By directly explaining his metaphors, I would argue that Darwin separates them from the inner-workings of his argument. They become more pronounced, more ornamental, rather than integrated within his prose as the un-capitalized “nature” originally appeared. Throughout revision, Darwin displays a sense of authorial power as he asserts: “So again it is difficult to avoid personifying the word Nature; but I mean by Nature, only the aggregate action and product of many natural laws, and by laws the sequence of events as ascertained by us” (Origin 3rd ed., 85). It may be argued that Darwin’s explanations of his metaphors serve to stabilize elements of his argument that were previously problematic. Through 4 Respectively, Origin 1st ed., 77; Origin 2nd ed., 63 48 explicit attention to what is strictly “metaphorical,” Darwin de-poeticizes certain elements of the Origin and makes room for more scientific arguments that attempt to rest on objective certainty. By the final edition, however, Darwin does not replace his “imaginary illustrations” with empirical ones, nor does he edit away his use of analogy or the metaphoric Tree of Life. The task of describing evolutionary history remains, as Beer described, the task of creating “imaginative history.” While these imaginative shifts occur throughout all editions of his text, by the final edition, the lessened presence of Darwin’s own voice—his expressions of personal belief—can be felt. At moments, in gestures towards scientific objectivity, we see Darwin adjusting his argument in favor of greater evidence and proofs. With regards to the intercrossing of species, Darwin comes to conclude, in his first edition: “this I believe to be the case” but later exchanges it for: “this I find to be the case.”5 In such instances, Darwin exchanges subjectivity for heightened scientific authority. However, what I will argue we see from such removal of personal voice is not in fact a new sense of certainty in Darwin’s arguments, but a sense of unsteadiness—a sense that without his personal voice of assurance, Darwin must, in some degree, qualify his arguments. In his first edition, Darwin argues: “I can see no reason to doubt that natural selection will continually tend to preserve those individuals which are born with constitutions best adapted to their native countries” (123). His assertion of personal conviction is connected to a similar sense of absoluteness with regards to natural selection; it will continue to preserve such species. The active, positive nature of Darwin’s belief gives the very process his argument describes a sense of positive force. Just as Darwin’s perspective has a sense of absoluteness (“no reason to doubt”), so too does the process described in his argument contain definitiveness in its emphasis 5 Respectively, Origin 1st ed., 91; Origin 6th ed., 80. 49 on “will.” However, by the final edition, the passage is greatly altered. “[N]atural selection,” Darwin argues, “would inevitably tend to preserve those individuals which were born with constitutions best adapted to any country which they inhabited” (Origin 6th ed., 114). As Darwin removes his own sense of belief and positive conviction, so too does he remove a sense of decisiveness from the process he is describing. Natural selection becomes qualified; it “would” tend to preserve such species. In this way, the presence of Darwin’s intimate voice and subjective point of view are not merely ornamental gestures in his argument, but modes that give greater strength and motion to the natural processes his argument describes. The expression of Darwin’s own belief appears, I would argue, as inextricably linked to the process of natural selection as he endeavors to assert it as truth. Furthermore, Darwin originally asserts, “So, again, I do not doubt that some apparent correlations, occurring throughout whole orders, are entirely due to the manner alone in which natural selection can act” (126), once again linking his own certainty with a definitive claim about the manner in which natural selection functions (i.e. “entirely due”). Yet this, too, is edited to read: “Some other correlations are apparently due to the manner in which natural selection can alone act (Origin, 6th ed., 117). While Darwin once again attempts to remove his own presence and allow his claims to stand on their own, he creates a new sense of uncertainty in his argument. Darwin’s inclusion of subjective belief presents a bolder assertion of his theories—the correlations are entirely due. By grounding his argument in perception and personal conviction, rather than an objective truth that would only allow for as much assertions that could be directly proven, Darwin is able to make bolder claims about his theories. Without Darwin’s presence, his argument lacks complete certainty and exposes gaps in explanation (“are apparently due”). Similarly, Darwin’s assertion that “I strongly suspect that some well-known laws with respect to 50 the plumage of male and female birds, in comparison with the plumage of the young, can be explained on the view of plumage having been chiefly modified by sexual selection” is transformed to read: “Some well-known laws, with respect to the plumage of male and female birds…can partly be explained through the action of sexual selection.6” While “I strongly suspect” and “having been chiefly modified” express positive knowledge, “can partly be explained” leaves something unaddressed. What, in other words, explains the other parts of the “well-known laws”? The pattern of such revision reveals the necessity of Darwin’s first person point of view to the arguments themselves. His personal perspective does not merely present natural processes to his readers; it instills the processes with a definitive sense of power and positive force. In his first edition, Darwin’s conviction, his unique expressions of confidence in his arguments, give the inner-workings of his arguments a quality of certainty—a sense that his own conviction is tied to deeper truth in the processes he argues for. Beer writes that Darwin “did not invent laws. He described them” (46). And yet, if we study the rhetoric of Darwin’s argument—its heavy reliance on subjective point of view and testimony of belief—what I argue we see is the necessity of Darwin’s presence in the larger processes his text describes. Infused with testimony of belief and intimate persuasion, his “descriptions” are deeply rooted in Darwin’s point of view; and it is Darwin’s own “descriptions”—his illustrations between evidence, both empirical and imagined—that give his arguments power and a sense of truth. Revision exposes Darwin’s use of “Nature” becoming overtly metaphorical and his personal perspective diminishing in favor of objective, scientific claims. In this way, we arguably see a formation of distinct discourses emerge in Darwin’s text as what is overtly “literary” 6 Respectively, Origin 1st ed., 81; Origin 6th ed., 70. 51 separates itself from the stricter “science” of the argument. However, what this separation exposes is the power of the interdependent relationship between the scientific and literary in Darwin’s original argument. Just as revision reveals an absence of Darwin’s voice in an attempt towards scientific objectivity, so does it, in turn, expose the importance of Darwin’s presence in his first edition. In revision, we see instances where the lessened presence of Darwin’s point of view does not, in fact, give his objective claims added power, but instead leaves them qualified. Because the processes that Darwin sought to describe require illustrations that cannot be directly witnessed and must instead be imagined and held in mind, Darwin’s perspective—the source from which the imagined illustrations are formed—is crucial. Darwin’s personal perspective and repeated assurance of belief and conviction in the minute and infinitely complex connections between living beings that he articulates balances elements of the empirical and more broadly literary or poetic. Attempting to write “imaginative history,” as Beer argues, Darwin is inextricably linked to the elements that make up the larger arguments of his text. His belief, his conviction in the imaginary illustrations he offers, the metaphors he invents, the webs of evidence he compiles. He presence is not an ornamental gesture, not merely a voice hidden behind the arguments of his text, but is crucial to the larger argument of his text. Encouraging his readers’ belief in processes beyond literal sight, Darwin expresses his own awe and belief in the processes in nature that the Origin describes—a human, personal perspective that endeavors to give the infinite system of nature a sense of heightened power, grandeur, and complexity. 52 Works Consulted Anon. [Review of] On the Origin of Species, by Means of Natural Selection. Charles Darwin. Living Age 66, Issue 848 (1860): 474-506. 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