Part 3

These last examples become readily intelligible when we remember that the males neither collect food nor help in building the hive. Their value to the colony ceases with the nuptial flight, and from the point of view of utility it is easy to understand why their lives should be so short [See Note 7 and Note 9]. But the case is very different with the female. The longest period of reproduction possible, when accompanied by very great fertility, is, as a rule, advantageous for the maintenance of the species. It cannot however be attained in most insects, for the capability of living long would be injurious if all individuals fell a prey to their enemies before they had completed the full period of life. Here it is otherwise: when the queen-bee returns from her nuptial flight, she remains within the hive until her death, and never leaves it. There she is almost completely secure from enemies and from dangers of all kinds; thousands of workers armed with stings protect, feed, and warm her; and in short there is every chance of her living through the full period of a life of normal length. And the case is entirely similar with the female ant. In neither of these insects is there any reason why the advantages which follow from a lengthened period of reproductive activity should be abandoned [See Note 6].

That an increase in the length of life has actually taken place in such cases seems to be indicated by the fact that both sexes of the saw-flies—the probable ancestors of bees and ants—have but a short life. On the other hand, the may-flies afford an undoubted instance of the shortening of life. Only in certain species is life as short as I have indicated above; in the majority it lasts for one or more days. The extreme cases, with a life of only a few hours, form the end of a line of development tending in the direction of a shortened life. This is made clear by the fact that one of these may-flies (_Palingenia_) does not even leave its pupa-skin, but reproduces in the so-called sub-imago stage.

It is therefore obvious that the duration of life is extremely variable, and not only depends upon physiological considerations, but also upon the external conditions of life. With every change in the structure of a species, and with the acquisition of new habits, the length of its life may, and in most cases must, be altered.

In answering the question as to the means by which the lengthening or shortening of life is brought about, our first appeal must be to the process of natural selection. Duration of life, like every other characteristic of an organism, is subject to individual fluctuations. From our experience with the human species we know that long life is hereditary. As soon as the long-lived individuals in a species obtain some advantage in the struggle for existence, they will gradually become dominant, and those with the shortest lives will be exterminated.

So far everything is quite simple; but hitherto we have only considered the external mechanism, and we must now further inquire as to the concomitant internal means by which such processes are rendered possible.

This brings us face to face with one of the most difficult problems in the whole range of physiology,—the question of the origin of death. As soon as we thoroughly understand the circumstances upon which normal death depends in general, we shall be able to make a further inquiry as to the circumstances which influence its earlier or later appearance, as well as to any functional changes in the organism which may produce such a result.

The changes in the organism which result in normal death,—senility so-called,—have been most accurately studied among men. We know that with advancing age certain alterations take place in the tissues, by which their functional activity is diminished; that these changes gradually increase, and finally either lead to direct or so-called normal death, or produce indirect death by rendering the organism incapable of resisting injuries due to external influences. These senile changes have been so well described from the time of Burdach and Bichat to that of Kussmaul, and are so well known, that I need not enter into further details here.

In answer to an inquiry as to the causes which induce these changes in the tissues, I can only suggest that the cells which form the vital constituents of tissues are worn out by prolonged use and activity. It is conceivable that the cells might be thus worn out in two ways; either the cells of a tissue remain the same throughout life, or else they are being continually replaced by younger generations of cells, which are themselves cast off in their turn.

In the present state of our knowledge the former alternative can hardly be maintained. Millions of blood corpuscles are continually dying and being replaced by new ones. On both the internal and external surfaces of the body countless epithelial cells are being incessantly removed, while new ones arise in their place; the activity of many and probably of all glands is accompanied by a change in their cells, for their secretions consist partly of detached and partly of dissolved cells; it is stated that even the cells of bone, connective tissue, and muscle undergo the same changes, and nervous tissue alone remains, in which it is doubtful whether such a renewal of cells takes place. And yet as regards even this tissue, certain facts are known which indicate a normal, though probably a slow renewal of the histological elements. I believe that one might reasonably defend the statement,—in fact, it has already found advocates,—that the vital processes of the higher (i.e. multicellular) animals are accompanied by a renewal of the morphological elements in most tissues.

This statement leads us to seek the origin of death, not in the waste of single cells, but in the limitation of their powers of reproduction. Death takes place because a worn-out tissue cannot for ever renew itself, and because a capacity for increase by means of cell-division is not everlasting, but finite [See Note 8]. This does not however imply that the immediate cause of death lies in the imperfect renewal of cells, for death would in all cases occur long before the reproductive power of the cells had been completely exhausted. Functional disturbances will appear as soon as the rate at which the worn-out cells are renewed becomes slow and insufficient.

But it must not be forgotten that death is not always preceded by senility, or a period of old age. For instance, in many of the lower animals death immediately follows the most important deed of the organism, viz. reproduction. Many Lepidoptera, all may-flies, and many other insects die of exhaustion immediately after depositing their eggs. Men have been known to die from the shock of a strong passion. Sulla is said to have died as the result of rage, whilst Leo X succumbed to an excess of joy. Here the psychical shock caused too intense an excitement of the nervous system. In the same manner the exercise of intense effort may also produce a similarly fatal excitement in the above-mentioned insects. At any rate it is certain that when, for some reason, this effort is not made, the insect lives for a somewhat longer period.

It is clear that in such animals as insects we can only speak figuratively of normal death, if we mean by this an end which is not due to accident. In these animals an accidental end is the rule, and is therefore, strictly speaking, normal [See Note 9].

Assuming the truth of the above-mentioned hypothesis as to the causes of normal death, it follows that the number of cell-generations which can proceed from the egg-cell is fixed for every species, at least within certain limits; and this number of cell-generations, if attained, corresponds to the maximum duration of life in the individuals of the species concerned. Shortening of life in any species must depend upon a decrease in the number of successive cell-generations, while conversely, the lengthening of life depends upon an increase in the number of cell-generations over those which were previously possible.

Such changes actually take place in plants. When an annual plant becomes perennial, the change—one in every way possible—can only happen by the production of new shoots, i. e. by an increase in the number of cell-generations. The process is not so obvious in animals, because in them the formation of young cells does not lead to the production of new and visible parts, for the new material is merely deposited in the place of that which is worn out and disappears. Among plants, on the other hand, the old material persists, its cells become lignified, and it is built over by new cells which assume the functions of life.

It is certainly true that the question as to the necessity of death in general does not seem much clearer from this point of view than from the purely physiological one. This is because we do not know why a cell must divide 10,000 or 100,000 times and then suddenly stop. It must be admitted that we can see no reason why the power of cell-multiplication should not be unlimited, and why the organism should not therefore be endowed with everlasting life. In the same manner, from a physiological point of view, we might admit that we can see no reason why the functions of the organism should ever cease.

It is only from the point of view of utility that we can understand the necessity of death. The same arguments which were employed to explain the necessity for as short a life as possible, will with but slight modification serve to explain the common necessity of death[4].

Let us imagine that one of the higher animals became immortal; it then becomes perfectly obvious that it would cease to be of value to the species to which it belonged. Suppose that such an immortal individual could escape all fatal accidents, through infinite time,—a supposition which is of course hardly conceivable. The individual would nevertheless be unable to avoid, from time to time, slight injuries to one or another part of its body. The injured parts could not regain their former integrity, and thus the longer the individual lived, the more defective and crippled it would become, and the less perfectly would it fulfil the purpose of its species. Individuals are injured by the operation of external forces, and for this reason alone it is necessary that new and perfect individuals should continually arise and take their place, and this necessity would remain even if the individuals possessed the power of living eternally.

From this follows, on the one hand, the necessity of reproduction, and, on the other, the utility of death. Worn-out individuals are not only valueless to the species, but they are even harmful, for they take the place of those which are sound. Hence by the operation of natural selection, the life of our hypothetically immortal individual would be shortened by the amount which was useless to the species. It would be reduced to a length which would afford the most favourable conditions for the existence of as large a number as possible of vigorous individuals, at the same time.

If by these considerations death is shown to be a beneficial occurrence, it by no means follows that it is to be solely accounted for on grounds of utility. Death might also depend upon causes which lie in the nature of life itself. The floating of ice upon water seems to us to be a useful arrangement, although the fact that it does float depends upon its molecular structure and not upon the fact that its doing so is of any advantage to us. In like manner the necessity of death has been hitherto explained as due to causes which are inherent in organic nature, and not to the fact that it may be advantageous.

I do not however believe in the validity of this explanation; I consider that death is not a primary necessity, but that it has been secondarily acquired as an adaptation. I believe that life is endowed with a fixed duration, not because it is contrary to its nature to be unlimited, but because the unlimited existence of individuals would be a luxury without any corresponding advantage. The above-mentioned hypothesis upon the origin and necessity of death leads me to believe that the organism did not finally cease to renew the worn-out cell material because the nature of the cells did not permit them to multiply indefinitely, but because the power of multiplying indefinitely was lost when it ceased to be of use.

I consider that this view, if not exactly proved, can at any rate be rendered extremely probable.

It is useless to object that man (or any of the higher animals) dies from the physical necessity of his nature, just as the specific gravity of ice results from its physical nature. I am quite ready to admit that this is the case. John Hunter, supported by his experiments on _anabiosis_, hoped to prolong the life of man indefinitely by alternate freezing and thawing; and the Veronese Colonel Aless. Guaguino made his contemporaries believe that a race of men existed in Russia, of which the individuals died regularly every year on the 27th of November, and returned to life on the 24th of the following April. There cannot however be the least doubt, that the higher organisms, as they are now constructed, contain within themselves the germs of death. The question however arises as to how this has come to pass; and I reply that death is to be looked upon as an occurrence which is advantageous to the species as a concession to the outer conditions of life, and not as an absolute necessity, essentially inherent in life itself.

Death, that is the end of life, is by no means, as is usually assumed, an attribute of all organisms. An immense number of low organisms do not die, although they are easily destroyed, being killed by heat, poisons, &c. As long, however, as those conditions which are necessary for their life are fulfilled, they continue to live, and they thus carry the potentiality of unending life in themselves. I am speaking not only of the Amoebae and the low unicellular Algae, but also of far more highly organized unicellular animals, such as the Infusoria.

The process of fission in the Amoeba has been recently much discussed, and I am well aware that the life of the individual is generally believed to come to an end with the division which gives rise to two new individuals, as if death and reproduction were the same thing. But this process cannot be truly called death. Where is the dead body? what is it that dies? Nothing dies; the body of the animal only divides into two similar parts, possessing the same constitution. Each of these parts is exactly like its parent, lives in the same manner, and finally also divides into two halves. As far as these organisms are concerned, death can only be spoken of in the most figurative sense.

There are no grounds for the assumption that the two halves of an Amoeba are differently constituted internally, so that after a time one of them will die while the other continues to live. Such an idea is disproved by a recently discovered fact. It has been noticed in _Euglypha_ (one of the Foraminifera) and in other low animals of the same group, that when division is almost complete, and the two halves are only connected by a short strand, the protoplasm of both parts begins to circulate, and for some time passes backwards and forwards between the two halves. A complete mingling of the whole substance of the animal and a resulting identity in the constitution of each half is thus brought about before the final separation [See Note 10].

The objection might perhaps be raised that, if the parent animal does not exactly die, it nevertheless disappears as an individual. I cannot however let this pass unless it is also maintained that the man of to-day is no longer the same individual as the boy of twenty years ago. In the growth of man, neither structure nor the components of structure remain precisely the same; the material is continually changing. If we can imagine an Amoeba endowed with self-consciousness, it might think before dividing ‘I will give birth to a daughter,’ and I have no doubt that each half would regard the other as the daughter, and would consider itself to be the original parent. We cannot however appeal to this criterion of personality in the Amoeba, but there is nevertheless a criterion which seems to me to decide the matter: I refer to the continuity of life in the same form.

Now if numerous organisms, endowed with the potentiality of never-ending life, have real existence, the question arises as to whether the fact can be understood from the point of view of utility. If death has been shown to be a necessary adaptation for the higher organisms, why should it not be so for the lower also? Are they not decimated by enemies? are they not often imperfect? are they not worn out by contact with the external world? Although they are certainly destroyed by other animals, there is nothing comparable to that deterioration of the body which takes place in the higher organisms. Unicellular animals are too simply constructed for this to be possible. If an infusorian is injured by the loss of some part of its body, it may often recover its former integrity, but if the injury is too great it dies. The alternative is always perfect integrity or complete destruction.

We may now leave this part of the subject, for it is obvious that normal death, that is to say, death which arises from internal causes, is an impossibility among these lower organisms. In those species at any rate in which fission is accompanied by a circulation of the protoplasm of the parent, the two halves must possess the same qualities. Since one of them is endowed with a potentiality for unending life, and must be so endowed if the species is to persist, it is clear that the other exactly similar half must be endowed with equal potentiality.

Let us now consider how it happened that the multicellular animals and plants, which arose from unicellular forms of life, came to lose this power of living for ever.

The answer to this question is closely bound up with the principle of division of labour which appeared among multicellular organisms at a very early stage, and which has gradually led to the production of greater and greater complexity in their structure.

The first multicellular organism was probably a cluster of similar cells, but these units soon lost their original homogeneity. As the result of mere relative position, some of the cells were especially fitted to provide for the nutrition of the colony, while others undertook the work of reproduction. Hence the single group would come to be divided into two groups of cells, which may be called somatic and reproductive—the cells of the body as opposed to those which are concerned with reproduction. This differentiation was not at first absolute, and indeed it is not always so to-day. Among the lower Metazoa, such as the polypes, the capacity for reproduction still exists to such a degree in the somatic cells, that a small number of them are able to give rise to a new organism,—in fact new individuals are normally produced by means of so-called buds. Furthermore, it is well known that many of the higher animals have retained considerable powers of regeneration; the salamander can replace its lost tail or foot, and the snail can reproduce its horns, eyes, etc.

As the complexity of the Metazoan body increased, the two groups of cells became more sharply separated from each other. Very soon the somatic cells surpassed the reproductive in number, and during this increase they became more and more broken up by the principle of the division of labour into sharply separated systems of tissues. As these changes took place, the power of reproducing large parts of the organism was lost, while the power of reproducing the whole individual became concentrated in the reproductive cells alone.

But it does not therefore follow that the somatic cells were compelled to lose the power of unlimited cell-production, although in accordance with the law of heredity, they could only give rise to cells which resembled themselves, and belonged to the same differentiated histological system. But as the fact of normal death seems to teach us that they have lost even this power, the causes of the loss must be sought outside the organism, that is to say, in the external conditions of life; and we have already seen that death can be very well explained as a secondarily acquired adaptation. The reproductive cells cannot lose the capacity for unlimited reproduction, or the species to which they belong would suffer extinction. But the somatic cells have lost this power to a gradually increasing extent, so that at length they became restricted to a fixed, though perhaps very large number of cell-generations. This restriction, which implies the continual influx of new individuals, has been explained above as a result of the impossibility of entirely protecting the individual from accidents, and from the deterioration which follows them. Normal death could not take place among unicellular organisms, because the individual and the reproductive cell are one and the same: on the other hand, normal death is possible, and as we see, has made its appearance, among multicellular organisms in which the somatic and reproductive cells are distinct.

I have endeavoured to explain death as the result of restriction in the powers of reproduction possessed by the somatic cells, and I have suggested that such restriction may conceivably follow from a limitation in the number of cell-generations possible for the cells of each organ and tissue. I am unable to indicate the molecular and chemical properties of the cell upon which the duration of its power of reproduction depends: to ask this is to demand an explanation of the nature of heredity—a problem the solution of which may still occupy many generations of scientists. At present we can hardly venture to propose any explanation of the real nature of heredity.

But the question must be answered as to whether the kind and degree of reproductive power resides in the nature of the cell itself, or in any way depends upon the quality of its nutriment.

Virchow, in his ‘Cellular Pathology,’ has remarked that the cells are not only nourished, but that they actively supply themselves with food. If therefore the internal condition of the cell decides whether it shall accept or reject the nutriment which is offered, it becomes conceivable that all cells may possess the power of refusing to absorb nutriment, and therefore of ceasing to undergo further division.