1866. | On Cell Life. 237 
In the development of a tissue, the newly-formed cells increase 
by subdivision. They grow, according to the character of the 
tissue, into various forms, and in most cases secrete the materials 
which they have elaborated within their walls. Generally they 
become compacted together on the surface, and in many tissues in 
a fully-developed condition they constitute the chief mass of the 
whole tissue. Always, however, as long as the tissue is living, 
there must still remain those bodies, which are cells in the true 
sense of the word—the little lumps of that mysterious gelatinous 
matter which has in recent times been called Protoplasm. It is 
probably within this substance that the final problem of organic 
hfe hes concealed. Its peculiarity does not consist in its shape, but 
in the substance itself; for wherever it is, in whatever form it may 
occur, there we have manifestations of organic life. The chemical 
and physical properties of this protoplasm, as far as we at present 
know, are to a great extent passive (probably it is a compound of 
different chemical bodies, among which albuminous or white-of-egg- 
like substances are the most prominent) ; all the more remarkable 
therefore, are its physiological actions. Above all, it is important to 
keep this fact in mind, that wherever a separate piece of this 
substance is found growing and developing, it is (in accordance 
with the nature of the procreation of cells described above) a portion 
separated from another protoplasmic mass; in no case, so far as 
reliable observations have extended, is it ever spontaneously developed 
from its constituents. 
But what is it that gives us a right to the paradoxical supposi- 
tion that each protoplasmic lump, individualized by its central 
globule or nucleus—each cell, in the animal body—is a separate 
animal subject, with individual animation? In fact, I ascribe to 
each cell, not only of the animal, but also of the vegetable body, 
animation in the truest meaning of the word. To express my view 
as clearly as the obscure nature of the subject will admit, I am of 
the persuasion that this thing which objectively appears to us as 
a microscopic, minute lump or knot of gelatinous matter, is in itself, 
sulyectively, a thing, similar to our own personal self; a thing con- 
scious of the influence of other things (sensadive), and of its own 
influence on other things (volitional). 
I cannot but feel certain that such a stretch of the idea as 
this will be received by most persons simply with an elevation 
of the eyebrows and a shake of the head. Materialistic views of the 
world, at the present day, exercise a very widely-spread dominion, 
even in the minds of men who are, in fact, contimually repudiating 
the ultimate consequences of materialism. The materialist’s view 
of the world is simply an instance of one-sidedness, since it is a 
concession of existence to those things only which are objectively 
apparent—which are regarded by him merely as passive masses of 
