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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:00:35 -0700 |
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diff --git a/19610-h/19610-h.htm b/19610-h/19610-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7bd1636 --- /dev/null +++ b/19610-h/19610-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10789 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html +PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Selections from Previous Works</title> +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- +P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } +H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } +H3, H4 { +text-align: left; +margin-top: 1em; +margin-bottom: 1em; +} +BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} +TD { vertical-align: top; } +.blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + +.citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">Selections from Previous Works, by Samuel Butler</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Selections from Previous Works, by Samuel +Butler + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Selections from Previous Works +and Remarks on Romanes' Mental Evolution in Animals + + +Author: Samuel Butler + + + +Release Date: October 24, 2006 [eBook #19610] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTIONS FROM PREVIOUS WORKS*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1884 Trübner & Co. edition by +David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>SELECTIONS FROM PREVIOUS WORKS</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>WITH REMARKS ON MR. G. J. +ROMANES’</i> “<i>MENTAL EVOLUTION IN +ANIMALS</i>”<br /> +<span class="smcap">and</span><br /> +A PSALM OF MONTREAL</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +SAMUEL BUTLER</p> +<p style="text-align: center">“The course of true science, +like that of true love, never did run smooth.”<br /> +<span class="smcap">Professor Tyndall</span>, <i>Pall Mall +Gazette</i>, Oct 30, 1883.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">(<span class="smcap">Op.</span> +7)</p> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +TRÜBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL<br /> +1884<br /> +[<i>All rights reserved</i>]</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page ii--><a +name="pageii"></a><span class="pagenum">p. ii</span>Ballantyne +Press<br /> +<span class="smcap">ballantyne, hanson and co.</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">edinburgh and london</span></p> +<h2><!-- page iii--><a name="pageiii"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. iii</span>PREFACE.</h2> +<p>I delayed these pages some weeks in order to give Mr. Romanes +an opportunity of explaining his statement that Canon Kingsley +wrote about instinct and inherited memory in <i>Nature</i>, Jan. +18, 1867. <a name="citationiii"></a><a href="#footnoteiii" +class="citation">[iii]</a> I wrote to the +<i>Athenæum</i> (Jan. 26, 1884) and pointed out that +<i>Nature</i> did not begin to appear till nearly three years +after the date given by Mr. Romanes, and that there was nothing +from Canon Kingsley on the subject of instinct and inherited +memory in any number of <i>Nature</i> up to the date of Canon +Kingsley’s death. I also asked for the correct +reference.</p> +<p>This Mr. Romanes has not thought it incumbent upon him to +give. I am told I ought not to have expected him to give +it, inasmuch as it is no longer usual for men of any but the +lowest scientific standing to correct their misstatements when +they are brought to book. Science is made for Fellows of +the Royal Society, and for no one else, not Fellows of the Royal +Society for science; and if the having achieved a certain +position should still involve being obliged to be as scrupulous +and accurate as other people, what is the good of the +position? This view of the matter is practical, but I <!-- +page iv--><a name="pageiv"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +iv</span>regret that Mr. Romanes should have taken it, for his +having done so has prevented my being able to tell the reader +what Canon Kingsley said about memory and instinct, and this he +might have been glad to know.</p> +<p>I suspect, however, that what Canon Kingsley said was after +all not very important. If it had been, Mr. Romanes would +have probably told us what it was in his own book. I should +think it possible that Mr. Romanes—not finding Canon +Kingsley’s words important enough to be quoted, or even +referred to correctly, or never having seen them himself and not +knowing exactly what they were, yet being anxious to give every +one, and more particularly Canon Kingsley, his due—felt +that this was an occasion on which he might fairly take advantage +of his position and say at large whatever he was in the humour +for saying at the moment.</p> +<p>I should not have thought this possible if I had not ere now +had reason to set Mr. Romanes down as one who was not likely to +be squeamish about trifles. Nevertheless, on this present +occasion I certainly did think that he had only made a slip such +as we all make sometimes, and such as he would gladly take the +earliest opportunity to correct. As it is, I do not know +what to think, except that D.C.L.’s and F.R.S.’s seem +to be made of much the same frail materials as we ordinary +mortals are.</p> +<p>As regards the extracts from my previous books given in this +volume, I should say that I have revised and corrected the +original text throughout, and introduced <!-- page v--><a +name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. v</span>a sentence or +two here and there, but have nowhere made any important +alteration. I regret greatly that want of space has +prevented me from being able to give the chapters from Life and +Habit on “The Abeyance of Memory,” and “What we +should expect to find if Differentiations of Structure and +Instinct are mainly due to Memory;” it is in these chapters +that an explanation of many phenomena is given, of which, so far +as I know, no explanation of any kind had been previously +attempted, and in which phenomena having apparently so little +connection as the sterility of hybrids, the principle underlying +longevity, the resumption of feral characteristics, the sterility +of many animals under confinement, are not only made intelligible +but are shown to be all part and parcel of the same +story—all being explicable as soon as Memory is made the +main factor of heredity.</p> +<p><i>Feb.</i> 16, 1884.</p> +<h2><!-- page 1--><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +1</span>SELECTIONS FROM EREWHON. <a name="citation1"></a><a +href="#footnote1" class="citation">[1]</a></h2> +<h3><i>CURRENT OPINIONS</i>. (<span class="smcap">chapter +x. of erewhon</span>.)</h3> +<p>This is what I gathered. That in that country if a man +falls into ill health, or catches any disorder, or fails bodily +in any way before he is seventy years old, he is tried before a +jury of his countrymen, and if convicted is held up to public +scorn and sentenced more or less severely as the case may +be. There are subdivisions of illnesses into crimes and +misdemeanours as with offences amongst ourselves—a man +being punished very heavily for serious illness, while failure of +eyes or hearing in one over sixty-five who has had good health +hitherto is dealt with by fine only, or imprisonment in default +of payment.</p> +<p>But if a man forges a cheque, sets his house on fire, robs +with violence from the person, or does any other such things as +are criminal in our own country, he is either taken to a hospital +and most carefully tended at the public expense, or if he is in +good circumstances, he lets it be known to all his friends that +he is suffering from a severe fit of immorality, just as we do +when we are ill, and they come and visit him with great +solicitude, and inquire with interest how it all came about, <!-- +page 2--><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +2</span>what symptoms first showed themselves, and so +forth,—questions which he will answer with perfect +unreserve; for bad conduct, though considered no less deplorable +than illness with ourselves, and as unquestionably indicating +something wrong with the individual who misbehaves, is +nevertheless held to be the result of either pre-natal or +post-natal misfortune. I should add that under certain +circumstances poverty and ill luck are also considered +criminal.</p> +<p>Accordingly, there exists a class of men trained in +soul-craft, whom they call straighteners, as nearly as I can +translate a word which literally means “one who bendeth +back the crooked.” These men practise much as medical +men in England, and receive a quasi-surreptitious fee on every +visit. They are treated with the same unreserve and obeyed +just as readily as our own doctors—that is to say, on the +whole sufficiently—because people know that it is their +interest to get well as soon as they can, and that they will not +be scouted as they would be if their bodies were out of order, +even though they may have to undergo a very painful course of +treatment.</p> +<p>When I say that they will not be scouted, I do not mean that +an Erewhonian offender will suffer no social inconvenience. +Friends will fall away from him because of his being less +pleasant company, just as we ourselves are disclined to make +companions of those who are either poor or poorly. No one +with a due sense of self-respect will place himself on an +equality in the matter of affection with those who are less lucky +than himself in birth, health, money, good looks, capacity, or +anything else. Indeed, that dislike and even disgust should +be felt by the fortunate for the unfortunate, or at any rate for +those who have been <!-- page 3--><a name="page3"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 3</span>discovered to have met with any of the +more serious and less familiar misfortunes, is not only natural, +but desirable for any society, whether of man or brute; what +progress either of body or soul had been otherwise +possible? The fact therefore that the Erewhonians attach +none of that guilt to crime which they do to physical ailments, +does not prevent the more selfish among them from neglecting a +friend who has robbed a bank, for instance, till he has fully +recovered; but it does prevent them from even thinking of +treating criminals with that contemptuous tone which would seem +to say, “I, if I were you, should be a better man than you +are,” a tone which is held quite reasonable in regard to +physical ailment.</p> +<p>Hence, though they conceal ill health by every kind of +cunning, they are quite open about even the most flagrant mental +diseases, should they happen to exist, which to do the people +justice is not often. Indeed, there are some who, so to +speak, are spiritual valetudinarians, and who make themselves +exceedingly ridiculous by their nervous supposition that they are +wicked, while they are very tolerable people all the time. +This however is exceptional; and on the whole they use much the +same reserve or unreserve about the state of their moral welfare +as we do about our health.</p> +<p>It has followed that all the ordinary greetings among +ourselves, such as, How do you do? and the like, are considered +signs of gross ill-breeding; nor do the politer classes tolerate +even such a common complimentary remark as telling a man that he +was looking well. They salute each other with, “I +hope you are good this morning;” or “I hope you have +recovered from the snappishness from which you were suffering +when I last saw you;” and if the person <!-- page 4--><a +name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 4</span>saluted has not +been good, or is still snappish, he says so, and is condoled with +accordingly. Nay, the straighteners have gone so far as to +give names from the hypothetical language (as taught at the +Colleges of Unreason) to all known forms of mental indisposition, +and have classified them according to a system of their own, +which, though I could not understand it, seemed to work well in +practice, for they are always able to tell a man what is the +matter with him as soon as they have heard his story, and their +familiarity with the long names assures him that they thoroughly +understand his case.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>We in England rarely shrink from telling our doctor what is +the matter with us merely through the fear that he will hurt +us. We let him do his worst upon us, and stand it without a +murmur, because we are not scouted for being ill, and because we +know the doctor is doing his best to cure us, and can judge of +our case better than we can; but we should conceal all illness if +we were treated as the Erewhonians are when they have anything +the matter with them; we should do as we do with our moral and +intellectual diseases,—we should feign health with the most +consummate art, till we were found out, and should hate a single +flogging given by way of mere punishment more than the amputation +of a limb, if it were kindly and courteously performed from a +wish to help us out of our difficulty, and with the full +consciousness on the part of the doctor that it was only by an +accident of constitution that he was not in the like plight +himself. So the Erewhonians take a flogging once a week, +and a diet of bread and water for two or three months together, +whenever their straightener recommends it.</p> +<p><!-- page 5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>I do not suppose that even my host, on having swindled a +confiding widow out of the whole of her property, was put to more +actual suffering than a man will readily undergo at the hands of +an English doctor. And yet he must have had a very bad time +of it. The sounds I heard were sufficient to show that his +pain was exquisite, but he never shrank from undergoing it. +He was quite sure that it did him good; and I think he was +right. I cannot believe that that man will ever embezzle +money again. He may—but it will be a long time before +he does so.</p> +<p>During my confinement in prison, and on my journey, I had +discovered much of the above; but it still seemed new and +strange, and I was in constant fear of committing some rudeness +from my inability to look at things from the same stand-point as +my neighbours; but after a few weeks’ stay with the +Nosnibors I got to understand things better, especially on having +heard all about my host’s illness, of which he told me +fully and repeatedly.</p> +<p>It seemed he had been on the Stock Exchange of the city for +many years and had amassed enormous wealth, without exceeding the +limits of what was generally considered justifiable or at any +rate permissible dealing; but at length on several occasions he +had become aware of a desire to make money by fraudulent +representations, and had actually dealt with two or three sums in +a way which had made him rather uncomfortable. He had +unfortunately made light of it and pooh-poohed the ailment, until +circumstances eventually presented themselves which enabled him +to cheat upon a very considerable scale;—he told me what +they were, and they were about as bad as anything could be, but I +need not detail them;—he <!-- page 6--><a +name="page6"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 6</span>seized the +opportunity, and became aware when it was too late that he must +be seriously out of order. He had neglected himself too +long.</p> +<p>He drove home at once, broke the news to his wife and +daughters as gently as he could, and sent off for one of the most +celebrated straighteners of the kingdom to a consultation with +the family practitioner, for the case was plainly serious. +On the arrival of the straightener he told his story, and +expressed his fear that his morals must be permanently +impaired.</p> +<p>The eminent man reassured him with a few cheering words, and +then proceeded to make a more careful diagnosis of the +case. He inquired concerning Mr. Nosnibor’s +parents—had their moral health been good? He was +answered that there had not been anything seriously amiss with +them, but that his maternal grandfather, whom he was supposed to +resemble somewhat in person, had been a consummate scoundrel and +had ended his days in a hospital,—while a brother of his +father’s, after having led a most flagitious life for many +years, had been at last cured by a philosopher of a new school, +which as far as I could understand it bore much the same relation +to the old as homœopathy to allopathy. The +straightener shook his head at this, and laughingly replied that +the cure must have been due to nature. After a few more +questions he wrote a prescription and departed.</p> +<p>I saw the prescription. It ordered a fine to the State +of double the money embezzled; no food but bread and milk for six +months, and a severe flogging once a month for twelve. He +had received his eleventh flogging on the day of my +arrival. I saw him later on the same afternoon, and he was +still twinged; but even though he had been minded to do so (which +he <!-- page 7--><a name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +7</span>showed no sign of being), there would have been no escape +from following out the straightener’s prescription, for the +so-called sanitary laws of Erewhon are very rigorous, and unless +the straightener was satisfied that his orders had been obeyed, +the patient would have been taken to a hospital (as the poor +are), and would have been much worse off. Such at least is +the law, but it is never necessary to enforce it.</p> +<p>On a subsequent occasion I was present at an interview between +Mr. Nosnibor and the family straightener, who was considered +competent to watch the completion of the cure. I was struck +with the delicacy with which he avoided even the remotest +semblance of inquiry after the physical well-being of his +patient, though there was a certain yellowness about my +host’s eyes which argued a bilious habit of body. To +have taken notice of this would have been a gross breach of +professional etiquette. I am told that a straightener +sometimes thinks it right to glance at the possibility of some +slight physical disorder if he finds it important in order to +assist him in his diagnosis; but the answers which he gets are +generally untrue or evasive, and he forms his own conclusions +upon the matter as well as he can.</p> +<p>Sensible men have been known to say that the straightener +should in strict confidence be told of every physical ailment +that is likely to bear upon the case; but people are naturally +shy of doing this, for they do not like lowering themselves in +the opinion of the straightener, and his ignorance of medical +science is supreme. I heard of one lady however who had the +hardihood to confess that a furious outbreak of ill-humour and +extravagant fancies for which she was seeking advice was possibly +the result of indisposition. <!-- page 8--><a +name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>“You +should resist that,” said the straightener, in a kind, but +grave voice; “we can do nothing for the bodies of our +patients; such matters are beyond our province, and I desire that +I may hear no further particulars.” The lady burst +into tears, promised faithfully that she would never be unwell +again, and kept her word.</p> +<p>To return however to Mr. Nosnibor. As the afternoon wore +on many carriages drove up with callers to inquire how he had +stood his flogging. It had been very severe, but the kind +inquiries upon every side gave him great pleasure, and he assured +me that he felt almost tempted to do wrong again by the +solicitude with which his friends had treated him during his +recovery: in this I need hardly say that he was not serious.</p> +<p>During the remainder of my stay in the country Mr. Nosnibor +was constantly attentive to his business, and largely increased +his already great possessions; but I never heard a whisper to the +effect of his having been indisposed a second time, or made money +by other than the most strictly honourable means. I did +hear afterwards in confidence that there had been reason to +believe that his health had been not a little affected by the +straightener’s treatment, but his friends did not choose to +be over curious upon the subject, and on his return to his +affairs it was by common consent passed over as hardly criminal +in one who was otherwise so much afflicted. For they regard +bodily ailments as the more venial in proportion as they have +been produced by causes independent of the constitution. +Thus if a person ruin his health by excessive indulgence at the +table, or by drinking, they count it to be almost a part of the +mental disease which brought it <!-- page 9--><a +name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>about and so it +goes for little, but they have no mercy on such illnesses as +fevers or catarrhs or lung diseases, which to us appear to be +beyond the control of the individual. They are only more +lenient towards the diseases of the young—such as measles, +which they think to be like sowing one’s wild +oats—and look over them as pardonable indiscretions if they +have not been too serious, and if they are atoned for by complete +subsequent recovery.</p> +<h3><!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +10</span>AN EREWHONIAN TRIAL. (<span class="smcap">chapter +xi. of erewhon</span>.)</h3> +<p>I shall best convey to the reader an idea of the entire +perversion of thought which exists among this extraordinary +people, by describing the public trial of a man who was accused +of pulmonary consumption—an offence which was punished with +death until quite recently. The trial did not take place +till I had been some months in the country, and I am deviating +from chronological order in giving an account of it here; but I +had perhaps better do so in order to exhaust this subject before +proceeding with others.</p> +<p>The prisoner was placed in the dock, and the jury were sworn +much as in Europe; almost all our own modes of procedure were +reproduced, even to the requiring the prisoner to plead guilty or +not guilty. He pleaded not guilty and the case +proceeded. The evidence for the prosecution was very +strong, but I must do the court the justice to observe that the +trial was absolutely impartial. Counsel for the prisoner +was allowed to urge everything that could be said in his +defence.</p> +<p>The line taken was that the prisoner was simulating +consumption in order to defraud an insurance company, from which +he was about to buy an annuity, and that he hoped thus to obtain +it on more advantageous terms. <!-- page 11--><a +name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>If this could +have been shown to be the case he would have escaped criminal +prosecution, and been sent to a hospital as for moral +ailment. The view however was one which could not be +reasonably sustained, in spite of all the ingenuity and eloquence +of one of the most celebrated advocates of the country. The +case was only too clear, for the prisoner was almost at the point +of death, and it was astonishing that he had not been tried and +convicted long previously. His coughing was incessant +during the whole trial, and it was all that the two jailers in +charge of him could do to keep him on his legs until it was +over.</p> +<p>The summing up of the judge was admirable. He dwelt upon +every point that could be construed in favour of the prisoner, +but as he proceeded it became clear that the evidence was too +convincing to admit of doubt, and there was but one opinion in +the court as to the impending verdict when the jury retired from +the box. They were absent for about ten minutes, and on +their return the foreman pronounced the prisoner guilty. +There was a faint murmur of applause but it was instantly +repressed. The judge then proceeded to pronounce sentence +in words which I can never forget, and which I copied out into a +note-book next day from the report that was published in the +leading newspaper. I must condense it somewhat, and nothing +which I could say would give more than a faint idea of the +solemn, not to say majestic, severity with which it was +delivered. The sentence was as follows:—</p> +<p>“Prisoner at the bar, you have been accused of the great +crime of labouring under pulmonary consumption, and after an +impartial trial before a jury of your countrymen, you have been +found guilty. Against the justice of the verdict I can say +nothing: the <!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 12</span>evidence against you was conclusive, +and it only remains for me to pass such a sentence upon you, as +shall satisfy the ends of the law. That sentence must be a +very severe one. It pains me much to see one who is yet so +young, and whose prospects in life were otherwise so excellent, +brought to this distressing condition by a constitution which I +can only regard as radically vicious; but yours is no case for +compassion: this is not your first offence: you have led a career +of crime, and have only profited by the leniency shown you upon +past occasions, to offend yet more seriously against the laws and +institutions of your country. You were convicted of +aggravated bronchitis last year: and I find that though you are +now only twenty-three years old, you have been imprisoned on no +less than fourteen occasions for illnesses of a more or less +hateful character; in fact, it is not too much to say that you +have spent the greater part of your life in a jail.</p> +<p>“It is all very well for you to say that you came of +unhealthy parents, and had a severe accident in your childhood +which permanently undermined your constitution; excuses such as +these are the ordinary refuge of the criminal; but they cannot +for one moment be listened to by the ear of justice. I am +not here to enter upon curious metaphysical questions as to the +origin of this or that—questions to which there would be no +end were their introduction once tolerated, and which would +result in throwing the only guilt on the primordial cell, or +perhaps even on the elementary gases. There is no question +of how you came to be wicked, but only this—namely, are you +wicked or not? This has been decided in the affirmative, +neither can I hesitate for a single moment to say that it has +been decided justly. You are a bad and dangerous person, +and stand <!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 13</span>branded in the eyes of your +fellow-countrymen with one of the most heinous known +offences.</p> +<p>“It is not my business to justify the law: the law may +in some cases have its inevitable hardships, and I may feel +regret at times that I have not the option of passing a less +severe sentence than I am compelled to do. But yours is no +such case; on the contrary, had not the capital punishment for +consumption been abolished, I should certainly inflict it +now.</p> +<p>“It is intolerable that an example of such terrible +enormity should be allowed to go at large unpunished. Your +presence in the society of respectable people would lead the less +able-bodied to think more lightly of all forms of illness; +neither can it be permitted that you should have the chance of +corrupting unborn beings who might hereafter pester you. +The unborn must not be allowed to come near you: and this not so +much for their protection (for they are our natural enemies), as +for our own; for since they will not be utterly gainsaid, it must +be seen to that they shall be quartered upon those who are least +likely to corrupt them.</p> +<p>“But independently of this consideration, and +independently of the physical guilt which attaches itself to a +crime so great as yours, there is yet another reason why we +should be unable to show you mercy, even if we are inclined to do +so. I refer to the existence of a class of men who lie +hidden among us, and who are called physicians. Were the +severity of the law or the current feeling of the country to be +relaxed never so slightly, these abandoned persons, who are now +compelled to practise secretly, and who can be consulted only at +the greatest risk, would become frequent visitors in every +household; their organisation and <!-- page 14--><a +name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>their +intimate acquaintance with all family secrets would give them a +power, both social and political, which nothing could +resist. The head of the household would become subordinate +to the family doctor, who would interfere between man and wife, +between master and servant, until the doctors should be the only +depositaries of power in the nation, and have all that we hold +precious at their mercy. A time of universal +dephysicalisation would ensue; medicine-vendors of all kinds +would abound in our streets and advertise in all our +newspapers. There is one remedy for this, and one +only. It is that which the laws of this country have long +received and acted upon, and consists in the sternest repression +of all diseases whatsoever, as soon as their existence is made +manifest to the eye of the law. Would that that eye were +far more piercing than it is.</p> +<p>“But I will enlarge no further upon things that are +themselves so obvious. You may say that it is not your +fault. The answer is ready enough at hand, and it amounts +to this—that if you had been born of healthy and well-to-do +parents, and been well taken care of when you were a child, you +would never have offended against the laws of your country, nor +found yourself in your present disgraceful position. If you +tell me that you had no hand in your parentage and education, and +that it is therefore unjust to lay these things to your charge, I +answer that whether your being in a consumption is your fault or +no, it is a fault in you, and it is my duty to see that against +such faults as this the commonwealth shall be protected. +You may say that it is your misfortune to be criminal; I answer +that it is your crime to be unfortunate.</p> +<p>“I do not hesitate therefore to sentence you to +imprisonment, <!-- page 15--><a name="page15"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 15</span>with hard labour, for the rest of +your miserable existence. During that period I would +earnestly entreat you to repent of these wrongs you have done +already, and to entirely reform the constitution of your whole +body. I entertain but little hope that you will pay +attention to my advice; you are already far too abandoned. +Did it rest with myself, I should add nothing in mitigation of +the sentence which I have passed, but it is the merciful +provision of the law that even the most hardened criminal shall +be allowed some one of the three official remedies, which is to +be prescribed at the time of his conviction. I shall +therefore order that you receive two tablespoonfuls of castor-oil +daily, until the pleasure of the court be further +known.”</p> +<p>When the sentence was concluded, the prisoner acknowledged in +a few scarcely audible words that he was justly punished, and +that he had had a fair trial. He was then removed to the +prison from which he was never to return. There was a +second attempt at applause when the judge had finished speaking, +but as before it was at once repressed; and though the feeling of +the court was strongly against the prisoner, there was no show of +any violence against him, if one may except a little hooting from +the bystanders when he was being removed in the prisoners’ +van. Indeed, nothing struck me more during my whole sojourn +in the country, than the general respect for law and order.</p> +<h3><!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +16</span>MALCONTENTS. (<span class="smcap">part of chapter +xii. of erewhon</span>.)</h3> +<p>I write with great diffidence, but it seems to me that there +is no unfairness in punishing people for their misfortunes, or +rewarding them for their sheer good luck: it is the normal +condition of human life that this should be done, and no +right-minded person will complain at being subjected to the +common treatment. There is no alternative open to us. +It is idle to say that men are not responsible for their +misfortunes. What is responsibility? Surely to be +responsible means to be liable to have to give an answer should +it be demanded, and all things which live are responsible for +their lives and actions should society see fit to question them +through the mouth of its authorised agent.</p> +<p>What is the offence of a lamb that we should rear it, and tend +it, and lull it into security, for the express purpose of killing +it? Its offence is the misfortune of being something which +society wants to eat, and which cannot defend itself. This +is ample. Who shall limit the right of society except +society itself? And what consideration for the individual +is tolerable unless society be the gainer thereby? +Wherefore should a man be so richly rewarded for having been son +to a millionaire, were it not clearly provable that <!-- page +17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>the +common welfare is thus better furthered? We cannot +seriously detract from a man’s merit in having been the son +of a rich father without imperilling our own tenure of things +which we do not wish to jeopardise; if this were otherwise we +should not let him keep his money for a single hour; we would +have it ourselves at once. For property <i>is</i> robbery, +but then we are all robbers or would-be robbers together, and +have found it expedient to organise our thieving, as we have +found it to organise our lust and our revenge. Property, +marriage, the law; as the bed to the river, so rule and +convention to the instinct.</p> +<p>But to return. Even in England a man on board a ship +with yellow fever is held responsible for his mischance, no +matter what his being kept in quarantine may cost him. He +may catch the fever and die; we cannot help it; he must take his +chance as other people do; but surely it would be desperate +unkindness to add contumely to our self-protection, unless, +indeed, we believe that contumely is one of our best means of +self-protection. Again, take the case of maniacs. We +say that they are irresponsible for their actions, but we take +good care, or ought to take good care, that they shall answer to +us for their insanity, and we imprison them in what we call an +asylum (that modern sanctuary!) if we do not like their +answers. This is a strange kind of irresponsibility. +What we ought to say is that we can afford to be satisfied with a +less satisfactory answer from a lunatic than from one who is not +mad, because lunacy is less infectious than crime.</p> +<p>We kill a serpent if we go in danger by it, simply for being +such and such a serpent in such and such a place; but we never +say that the serpent has only <!-- page 18--><a +name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 18</span>itself to +blame for not having been a harmless creature. Its crime is +that of being the thing which it is: but this is a capital +offence, and we are right in killing it out of the way, unless we +think it more dangerous to do so than to let it escape; +nevertheless we pity the creature, even though we kill it.</p> +<p>But in the case of him whose trial I have described above, it +was impossible that any one in the court should not have known +that it was but by an accident of birth and circumstances that he +was not himself also in a consumption; and yet none thought that +it disgraced them to hear the judge give vent to the most cruel +truisms about him. The judge himself was a kind and +thoughtful person. He was a man of magnificent and benign +presence. He was evidently of an iron constitution, and his +face wore an expression of the maturest wisdom and experience; +yet for all this, old and learned as he was, he could not see +things which one would have thought would have been apparent even +to a child. He could not emancipate himself from, nay, it +did not even occur to him to feel, the bondage of the ideas in +which he had been born and bred. So was it with the jury +and bystanders; and—most wonderful of all—so was it +even with the prisoner. Throughout he seemed fully +impressed with the notion that he was being dealt with justly: he +saw nothing wanton in his being told by the judge that he was to +be punished, not so much as a necessary protection to society +(although this was not entirely lost sight of), as because he had +not been better born and bred than he was. But this led me +to hope that he suffered less than he would have done if he had +seen the matter in the same light that I did. And, after +all, justice is relative.</p> +<p><!-- page 19--><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +19</span>I may here mention that only a few years before my +arrival in the country, the treatment of all convicted invalids +had been much more barbarous than now; for no physical remedy was +provided, and prisoners were put to the severest labour in all +sorts of weather, so that most of them soon succumbed to the +extreme hardships which they suffered; this was supposed to be +beneficial in some ways, inasmuch as it put the country to less +expense for the maintenance of its criminal class; but the growth +of luxury had induced a relaxation of the old severity, and a +sensitive age would no longer tolerate what appeared to be an +excess of rigour, even towards the most guilty; moreover, it was +found that juries were less willing to convict, and justice was +often cheated because there was no alternative between virtually +condemning a man to death and letting him go free; it was also +held that the country paid in recommittals for its overseverity; +for those who had been imprisoned even for trifling ailments were +often permanently disabled by their imprisonment; and when a man +has been once convicted, it was probable he would never +afterwards be long off the hands of the country.</p> +<p>These evils had long been apparent and recognised; yet people +were too indolent, and too indifferent to suffering not their +own, to bestir themselves about putting an end to them, until at +last a benevolent reformer devoted his whole life to effecting +the necessary changes. He divided illnesses into three +classes—those affecting the head, the trunk, and the lower +limbs—and obtained an enactment that all diseases of the +head, whether internal or external, should be treated with +laudanum, those of the body with castor-oil, and those of the +lower limbs with an embrocation of strong sulphuric acid and +water. It may be said <!-- page 20--><a +name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 20</span>that the +classification was not sufficiently careful, and that the +remedies were ill chosen; but it is a hard thing to initiate any +reform, and it was necessary to familiarise the public mind with +the principle, by inserting the thin end of the wedge first: it +is not therefore to be wondered at that among so practical a +people there should still be some room for improvement. The +mass of the nation are well pleased with existing arrangements, +and believe that their treatment of criminals leaves little or +nothing to be desired; but there is an energetic minority who +hold what are considered to be extreme opinions, and who are not +at all disposed to rest contented until the principle lately +admitted has been carried further.</p> +<h3><!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +21</span>THE MUSICAL BANKS. (<span class="smcap">chapter +xiv. of erewhon</span>.)</h3> +<p>On my return to the drawing-room, I found the ladies were just +putting away their work and preparing to go out. I asked +them where they were going. They answered with a certain +air of reserve that they were going to the bank to get some +money.</p> +<p>Now I had already collected that the mercantile affairs of the +Erewhonians were conducted on a totally different system from our +own; I had however gathered little hitherto, except that they had +two distinct commercial systems, of which the one appealed more +strongly to the imagination than anything to which we are +accustomed in Europe, inasmuch as the banks conducted upon this +system were decorated in the most profuse fashion, and all +mercantile transactions were accompanied with music, so that they +were called musical banks though the music was hideous to a +European ear.</p> +<p>As for the system itself I never understood it, neither can I +do so now: they have a code in connection with it, which I have +no doubt they themselves understand, but no foreigner can hope to +do so. One rule runs into and against another as in a most +complicated grammar, or as in Chinese pronunciation, wherein I am +told the slightest change in accentuation or tone of voice alters +the meaning of a whole sentence. <!-- page 22--><a +name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>Whatever is +incoherent in my description must be referred to the fact of my +never having attained to a full comprehension of the subject.</p> +<p>So far however as I could collect anything certain, they +appeared to have two entirely distinct currencies, each under the +control of its own banks and mercantile codes. The one of +them (the one with the musical banks) was supposed to be +<i>the</i> system, and to give out the currency in which all +monetary transactions should be carried on. As far as I +could see, all who wished to be considered respectable, did keep +a certain amount of this currency at these banks; nevertheless, +if there is one thing of which I am more sure than another it is +that the amount so kept was but a very small part of their +possessions. I think they took the money, put it into the +bank, and then drew it out again, repeating the process day by +day, and keeping a certain amount of currency for this purpose +and no other, while they paid the expenses of the bank with the +other coinage. I am sure the managers and cashiers of the +musical banks were not paid in their own currency. Mr. +Nosnibor used to go to these musical banks, or rather to the +great mother bank of the city, sometimes but not very +often. He was a pillar of one of the other kind of banks, +though he held some minor office also in these. The ladies +generally went alone; as indeed was the case in most families, +except on some few great annual occasions.</p> +<p>I had long wanted to know more of this strange system, and had +the greatest desire to accompany my hostess and her +daughters. I had seen them go out almost every morning +since my arrival, and had noticed that they carried their purses +in their hands, not exactly ostentatiously, yet just so as that +those <!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 23</span>who met them should see whither they +were going. I had never yet been asked to go with them +myself.</p> +<p>It is not easy to convey a person’s manner by words, and +I can hardly give any idea of the peculiar feeling which came +upon me whenever I saw the ladies in the hall, with their purses +in their hands, and on the point of starting for the bank. +There was a something of regret, a something as though they would +wish to take me with them, but did not like to ask me, and yet as +though I were hardly to ask to be taken. I was determined +however to bring matters to an issue with my hostess about my +going with them, and after a little parleying and many inquiries +as to whether I was perfectly sure that I myself wished to go, it +was decided that I might do so.</p> +<p>We passed through several streets of more or less considerable +houses, and at last turning round a corner we came upon a large +piazza, at the end of which was a magnificent building, of a +strange but noble architecture and of great antiquity. It +did not open directly on to the piazza, there being a screen, +through which was an archway, between the piazza and the actual +precincts of the bank. On passing under the archway we +found ourselves upon a green sward, round which there ran an +arcade or cloister, while in front of us uprose the majestic +towers of the bank and its venerable front, which was divided +into three deep recesses and adorned with all sorts of marbles +and many sculptures. On either side there were beautiful +old trees wherein the birds were busy by the hundred, and a +number of quaint but substantial houses of singularly comfortable +appearance; they were situated in the midst of orchards and +gardens, and gave me an impression of great peace and plenty.</p> +<p><!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +24</span>Indeed it had been no error to say that this building +was one which appealed to the imagination; it did more—it +carried both imagination and judgment by storm. It was an +epic in stone and marble; neither had I ever seen anything in the +least comparable to it. I was completely charmed and +melted. I felt more conscious of the existence of a remote +past. One knows of this always, but the knowledge is never +so living as in the actual presence of some witness to the life +of bygone ages. I felt how short a space of human life was +the period of our own existence. I was more impressed with +my own littleness, and much more inclinable to believe that the +people whose sense of the fitness of things was equal to the +upraising of so serene a handiwork, were hardly likely to be +wrong in the conclusions they might come to upon any +subject. My feeling certainly was that the currency of this +bank must be the right one.</p> +<p>We crossed the sward and entered the building. If the +outside had been impressive the inside was even more so. It +was very lofty and divided into several parts by walls which +rested upon massive pillars; the windows were filled with glass, +on which had been painted the principal commercial incidents of +the bank for many ages. In a remote part of the building +there were men and boys singing; this was the only disturbing +feature, for as the gamut was still unknown, there was no music +in the country which could be agreeable to a European ear. +The singers seemed to have derived their inspirations from the +songs of birds and the wailing of the wind, which last they tried +to imitate in melancholy cadences which at times degenerated into +a howl. To my thinking the noise was hideous, but it +produced a great effect upon <!-- page 25--><a +name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 25</span>my +companions, who professed themselves much moved. As soon as +the singing was over the ladies requested me to stay where I was, +while they went inside the place from which it had seemed to +come.</p> +<p>During their absence certain reflections forced themselves +upon me.</p> +<p>In the first place, it struck me as strange that the building +should be so nearly empty; I was almost alone, and the few +besides myself had been led by curiosity, and had no intention of +doing business with the bank. But there might be more +inside. I stole up to the curtain, and ventured to draw the +extreme edge of it on one side. No, there was hardly any +one there. I saw a large number of cashiers, all at their +desks ready to pay cheques, and one or two who seemed to be the +managing partners. I also saw my hostess and her daughters +and two or three other ladies; also three or four old women and +the boys from one of the neighbouring Colleges of Unreason; but +there was no one else. This did not look as though the bank +was doing a very large business; and yet I had always been told +that every one in the city dealt with this establishment.</p> +<p>I cannot describe all that took place in these inner +precincts, for a sinister-looking person in a black gown came and +made unpleasant gestures at me for peeping. I happened to +have in my pocket one of the musical bank pieces, which had been +given me by Mrs. Nosnibor, so I tried to tip him with it; but +having seen what it was, he became so angry that it was all I +could do to pacify him. When he was gone I ventured to take +a second look, and saw Zulora in the very act of giving a piece +of paper which looked like a cheque to one of the cashiers. +He did not <!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 26</span>examine it, but putting his hand into +an antique coffer hard by, he pulled out a quantity of +dull-looking metal pieces apparently at random, and handed them +over without counting them; neither did Zulora count them, but +put them into her purse and departed. It seemed a very +singular proceeding, but I supposed that they knew their own +business best, at any rate Zulora seemed quite satisfied, thanked +him for the money, and began making towards the curtain: on this +I let it drop and retreated to a reasonable distance.</p> +<p>Mrs. Nosnibor and her daughters soon joined me. For some +few minutes we all kept silence, but at last I ventured to remark +that the bank was not so busy to-day as it probably often +was. On this Mrs. Nosnibor said that it was indeed +melancholy to see what little heed people paid to the most +precious of all institutions. I could say nothing in reply, +but I have ever been of opinion that the greater part of mankind +do approximately know where they get that which does them +good. Mrs. Nosnibor went on to say that I must not imagine +there was any want of confidence in the bank because I had seen +so few people there; the heart of the country was thoroughly +devoted to these establishments, and any sign of their being in +danger would bring in support from the most unexpected +quarters. It was only because people knew them to be so +very safe, that in some cases (as she lamented to say in Mr. +Nosnibor’s) they felt that their support was +unnecessary. Moreover these institutions never departed +from the safest and most approved banking principles. Thus +they never allowed interest on deposit, a thing now frequently +done by certain bubble companies, which by doing an illegitimate +trade had drawn many customers away; and even the shareholders +were fewer than <!-- page 27--><a name="page27"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 27</span>formerly, owing to the innovations of +these unscrupulous persons.</p> +<p>It came out by and by that the musical banks paid little or no +dividend, but divided their profits by way of bonus on the +original shares once in every three hundred and fifty years; and +as it was now only two hundred years since there had been one of +these distributions, people felt that they could not hope for +another in their own time and preferred investments whereby they +got some more tangible return; all which, she said, was very +melancholy to think of.</p> +<p>Having made these last admissions, she returned to her +original statement, namely, that every one in the country really +supported the bank. As to the fewness of the people, and +the absence of the able-bodied, she pointed out to me with some +justice that this was exactly what we ought to expect. The +men who were most conversant about the stability of human +institutions, such as the lawyers, men of science, doctors, +statesmen, painters, and the like, were just those who were most +likely to be misled by their own fancied accomplishments, and to +be made unduly suspicious by their licentious desire for greater +present return, which was at the root of nine-tenths of the +opposition, by their vanity, which would prompt them to affect +superiority to the prejudices of the vulgar, and by the stings of +their own conscience, which was constantly upbraiding them in the +most cruel manner on account of their bodies, which were +generally diseased; let a person’s intellect be never so +sound, unless his body were in absolute health, he could form no +judgment worth having on matters of this kind. The body was +everything: it need not perhaps be such a <i>strong</i> body (she +said this because she saw I was thinking of the <!-- page 28--><a +name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>old and +infirm-looking folks whom I had seen in the bank), but it must be +in perfect health; in this case, the less active strength it had +the more free would be the working of the intellect, and +therefore the sounder the conclusion. The people, then, +whom I had seen at the bank were in reality the very ones whose +opinions were most worth having; they declared its advantages to +be incalculable, and even professed to consider the immediate +return to be far larger than they were entitled to; and so she +ran on, nor did she leave off till we had got back to the +house.</p> +<p>She might say what she pleased, but her manner was not one +that carried much conviction; and later on I saw signs of general +indifference to these banks that were not to be mistaken. +Their supporters often denied it, but the denial was generally so +couched as to add another proof of its existence. In +commercial panics, and in times of general distress, the people +as a mass did not so much as even think of turning to these +banks. A few individuals might do so, some from habit and +early training, some from hope of gain, but few from a genuine +belief that the money was good; the masses turned instinctively +to the other currency. In a conversation with one of the +musical bank managers I ventured to hint this as plainly as +politeness would allow. He said that it had been more or +less true till lately; but that now they had put fresh stained +glass windows into all the banks in the country, and repaired the +buildings, and enlarged the organs, and taken to talking nicely +to the people in the streets, and to remembering the ages of +their children and giving them things when they were ill, so that +all would henceforth go smoothly.</p> +<p><!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +29</span>“But haven’t you done anything to the money +itself?” said I timidly.</p> +<p>To this day I do not know exactly what the bank-manager said, +but it came to this in the end—that I had better not meddle +with things that I did not understand.</p> +<p>On reviewing the whole matter, I can be certain of this much +only, that the money given out at the musical banks is not the +current coin of the realm. It is not the money with which +the people do as a general rule buy their bread, meat, and +clothing. It is like it; some coins very like it; and it is +not counterfeit. It is not, take it all round, a spurious +article made of base metal in imitation of the money which is in +daily use; but it is a distinct coinage which, though I do not +suppose it ever actually superseded the ordinary gold, silver, +and copper, was probably issued by authority, and was intended to +supplant those metals. Some of the pieces were really of +exquisite beauty; and some were, I do verily believe, nothing but +the ordinary currency, only that there was another head and name +in place of that of the commonwealth. And here was one of +the great marvels; for those who were most strongly in favour of +this coinage maintained, and even grew more excited if they were +opposed here than on any other matter, that the very self-same +coin with the head of the commonwealth upon it was of little if +any value, while it became exceedingly precious it stamped with +the other image.</p> +<p>Some of the coins were plainly bad; of these last there were +not many; still there were enough for them to be not +uncommon. These were entirely composed of alloy; they would +bend easily, would melt away to <!-- page 30--><a +name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>nothing with +a little heat, and were quite unsuited for a currency. Yet +there were few of the wealthier classes who did not maintain that +even these coins were genuine good money, though they were chary +of taking them. Every one knew this, so they were seldom +offered; but all thought it incumbent upon them to retain a good +many in their possession, and to let them be seen from time to +time in their hands and purses. Of course people knew their +real value exceedingly well; but few, if any, dared to say what +that value was; or if they did, it would be only in certain +companies or in writing in the newspapers anonymously. +Strange! there was hardly any insinuation against this coinage +which they would not tolerate and even applaud in their daily +papers; and yet, if the same thing were said without ambiguity to +their faces—nominative case verb and accusative being all +in their right places, and doubt impossible—they would +consider themselves very seriously and justly outraged, and +accuse the speaker of being unwell.</p> +<p>I never could understand, neither can I do so now, why a +single currency should not suffice them; it would seem to me as +though all their dealings would have been thus greatly +simplified; but I was met with a look of horror if ever I dared +to hint at it. Even those who to my certain knowledge kept +only just enough money at the musical banks to swear by, would +call the other banks (where their securities really lay) cold, +deadening, paralysing, and the like. I noticed another +thing moreover which struck me greatly. I was taken to the +opening of one of these banks in a neighbouring town, and saw a +large assemblage of cashiers and managers. I sat opposite +them and scanned their faces attentively. They did <!-- +page 31--><a name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +31</span>not please me; they lacked, with a few exceptions, the +true Erewhonian frankness; and an equal number from any other +class would have looked happier and better men. When I met +them in the streets they did not seem like other people, but had, +as a general rule, a cramped expression upon their faces which +pained and depressed me.</p> +<p>Those who came from the country were better; they seemed to +have lived less as a separate class, and to be freer and +healthier; but in spite of my seeing not a few whose looks were +benign and noble, I could not help asking myself concerning the +greater number of those whom I met, whether Erewhon would be a +better country if their expression were to be transferred to the +people in general. I answered myself emphatically, +no. A man’s expression is his sacrament; it is the +outward and visible sign of his inward and spiritual grace, or, +want of grace; and as I looked at the majority of these men, I +could not help feeling that there must be a something in their +lives which had stunted their natural development, and that they +would have been more healthily-minded in any other +profession.</p> +<p>I was always sorry for them, for in nine cases out of ten they +were well-meaning persons; they were in the main very poorly +paid; their constitutions were as a rule above suspicion; and +there were recorded numberless instances of their self-sacrifice +and generosity; but they had had the misfortune to have been +betrayed into a false position at an age for the most part when +their judgment was not matured, and after having been kept in +studied ignorance of the real difficulties of the system. +But this did not make their position the less a false one, and +its bad effects upon themselves were unmistakable.</p> +<p><!-- page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +32</span>Few people would speak quite openly and freely before +them, which struck me as a very bad sign. When they were in +the room every one would talk as though all currency save that of +the musical banks should be abolished; and yet they knew +perfectly well that even the cashiers themselves hardly used the +musical bank money more than other people. It was expected +of them that they should appear to do so, but this was all. +The less thoughtful of them did not seem particularly unhappy, +but many were plainly sick at heart, though perhaps they hardly +knew it, and would not have owned to being so. Some few +were opponents of the whole system; but these were liable to be +dismissed from their employment at any moment, and this rendered +them very careful, for a man who had once been cashier at a +musical bank was out of the field for other employment, and was +generally unfitted for it by reason of that course of treatment +which was commonly called his education. In fact it was a +career from which retreat was virtually impossible, and into +which young men were generally induced to enter before they could +be reasonably expected, considering their training, to have +formed any opinions of their own. Few indeed were those who +had the courage to insist on seeing both sides of the question +before they committed themselves to either. One would have +thought that this was an elementary principle,—one of the +first things that an honourable man would teach his boy to do; +but in practice it was not so.</p> +<p>I even saw cases in which parents bought the right of +presenting to the office of cashier at one of these banks, with +the fixed determination that some one of their sons (perhaps a +mere child) should fill it. There was the lad +himself—growing up with every promise <!-- page 33--><a +name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 33</span>of becoming a +good and honourable man—but utterly without warning +concerning the iron shoe which his natural protector was +providing for him. Who could say that the whole thing would +not end in a life-long lie, and vain chafing to escape?</p> +<p>I confess that there were few things in Erewhon which shocked +me more than this.</p> +<h3><!-- page 34--><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +34</span>BIRTH FORMULÆ. (<span class="smcap">chapter +xvii. of erewhon</span>.)</h3> +<p>I heard what follows not from Arowhena, but from Mr. Nosnibor +and some of the gentlemen who occasionally dined at the house: +they told me that the Erewhonians believe in pre-existence; and +not only this (of which I will write more fully in the next +chapter), but they believe that it is of their own free act and +deed in a previous state that people come to be born into this +world at all.</p> +<p>They hold that the unborn are perpetually plaguing and +tormenting the married (and sometimes even the unmarried) of both +sexes, fluttering about them incessantly, and giving them no +peace either of mind or body until they have consented to take +them under their protection. If this were not so—this +is at least what they urge—it would be a monstrous freedom +for one man to take with another, to say that he should undergo +the chances and changes of this mortal life without any option in +the matter. No man would have any right to get married at +all, inasmuch as he can never tell what misery his doing so may +entail forcibly upon his children who cannot be unhappy as long +as they remain unborn. They feel this so strongly that they +are resolved to shift the blame on to other shoulders; they have +therefore invented a long mythology as to the world in which the +unborn people live, what they do, <!-- page 35--><a +name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 35</span>and the arts +and machinations to which they have recourse in order to get +themselves into our own world.</p> +<p>I cannot think they seriously believe in this mythology +concerning pre-existence; they do and they do not; they do not +know themselves what they believe; all they know is that it is a +disease not to believe as they do. The only thing of which +they are quite sure is that it is the pestering of the unborn, +which causes them to be brought into this world, and that they +would not be here if they would only let peaceable people +alone.</p> +<p>It would be hard to disprove this position, and they might +have a good case if they would only leave it as it stands. +But this they will not do; they must have assurance doubly sure; +they must have the written word of the child itself as soon as it +is born, giving the parents indemnity from all responsibility on +the score of its birth, and asserting its own +pre-existence. They have therefore devised something which +they call a birth formula—a document which varies in words +according to the caution of parents, but is much the same +practically in all cases; for it has been the business of the +Erewhonian lawyers during many ages to exercise their skill in +perfecting it and providing for every contingency.</p> +<p>These formulæ are printed on common paper at a moderate +cost for the poor; but the rich have them written on parchment +and handsomely bound, so that the getting up of a person’s +birth formula is a test of his social position. They +commence by setting forth, That whereas A. B. was a member of the +kingdom of the unborn, where he was well provided for in every +way, and had no cause of discontent, &c. &c., he did of +his own wanton restlessness conceive a desire <!-- page 36--><a +name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 36</span>to enter into +this present world; that thereon having taken the necessary steps +as set forth in laws of the unborn kingdom, he set himself with +malice aforethought to plague and pester two unfortunate people +who had never wronged him, and who were quite contented until he +conceived this base design against their peace; for which wrong +he now humbly entreats their pardon. He acknowledges that +he is responsible for all physical blemishes and deficiencies +which may render him answerable to the laws of his country; that +his parents have nothing whatever to do with any of these things; +and that they have a right to kill him at once if they be so +minded, though he entreats them to show their marvellous goodness +and clemency towards him by sparing his life. If they will +do this he promises to be their most abject creature during his +earlier years, and indeed unto his life’s end, unless they +should see fit in their abundant generosity to remit some portion +of his service hereafter. And so the formula continues, +going sometimes into very minute details, according to the +fancies of family lawyers, who will not make it any shorter than +they can help.</p> +<p>The deed being thus prepared, on the third or fourth day after +the birth of the child, or as they call it, the “final +importunity,” the friends gather together, and there is a +feast held, where they are all very melancholy—as a general +rule, I believe quite truly so—and make presents to the +father and mother of the child in order to console them for the +injury which has just been done them by the unborn. By and +by the child himself is brought down by his nurse, and the +company begin to rail upon him, upbraiding him for his +impertinence and asking him <!-- page 37--><a +name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 37</span>what amends +he proposes to make for the wrong that he has committed, and how +he can look for care and nourishment from those who have perhaps +already been injured by the unborn on some ten or twelve +occasions; for they say of people with large families, that they +have suffered terrible injuries from the unborn; till at last, +when this has been carried far enough, some one suggests the +formula, which is brought forth and solemnly read to the child by +the family straightener. This gentleman is always invited +on these occasions, for the very fact of intrusion into a +peaceful family shows a depravity on the part of the child which +requires his professional services.</p> +<p>On being teased by the reading and tweaked by the nurse, the +child will commonly fall a-crying, which is reckoned a good sign +as showing a consciousness of guilt. He is thereon asked, +Does he assent to the formula? on which, as he still continues +crying and can obviously make no answer, some one of the friends +comes forward and undertakes to sign the document on his behalf, +feeling sure (so he says) that the child would do it if he only +knew how, and that he will release the present signer from his +engagement on arriving at maturity. The friend then +inscribes the signature of the child at the foot of the +parchment, which is held to bind the child as much as though he +had signed it himself. Even this, however, does not fully +content them, for they feel a little uneasy until they have got +the child’s own signature after all. So when he is +about fourteen these good people partly bribe him by promises of +greater liberty and good things, and partly intimidate him +through their great power of making themselves passively +unpleasant to him, so that though there is a show of freedom +made, <!-- page 38--><a name="page38"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 38</span>there is really none, and partly they +use the offices of the teachers in the Colleges of Unreason, till +at last, in one way or another, they take very good care that he +shall sign the paper by which he professes to have been a free +agent in coming into the world, and to take all the +responsibility of having done so on to his own shoulders. +And yet, though this document is in theory the most important +which any one can sign in his whole life, they will have him +commit himself to it at an age when neither they nor the law will +for many a year allow any one else to bind him to the smallest +obligation, no matter how righteously he may owe it, because they +hold him too young to know what he is about.</p> +<p>I thought this seemed rather hard, and not of a piece with the +many admirable institutions existing among them. I once +ventured to say a part of what I thought about it to one of the +Professors of Unreason. I asked him whether he did not +think it would do serious harm to a lad’s principles, and +weaken his sense of the sanctity of his word, and of truth +generally, that he should be led into entering upon an engagement +which it was so plainly impossible he should keep even for a +single day with tolerable integrity—whether, in fact, the +teachers who so led him, or who taught anything as a certainty of +which they were themselves uncertain, were not earning their +living by impairing the truth-sense of their pupils. The +professor, who was a delightful person, seemed surprised at the +view I took, and gave me to understand, perhaps justly enough, +that I ought not to make so much fuss about a trifle. No +one, he said, expected that the boy either would or could do all +that he undertook; but the world was full of compromises; and +there was hardly any engagement <!-- page 39--><a +name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 39</span>which would +bear being interpreted literally. Human language was too +gross a vehicle of thought—thought being incapable of +absolute translation. He added, that as there can be no +translation from one language into another which shall not scant +the meaning somewhat, or enlarge upon it, so there is no language +which can render thought without a jarring and a harshness +somewhere—and so forth; all of which seemed to come to this +in the end, that it was the custom of the country, and that the +Erewhonians were a conservative people; that the boy would have +to begin compromising sooner or later, and this was part of his +education in the art. It was perhaps to be regretted that +compromise should be as necessary as it was; still it was +necessary, and the sooner the boy got to understand it the better +for himself. But they never tell this to the boy.</p> +<p>From the book of their mythology about the unborn I made the +extracts which will form the following chapter.</p> +<h3><!-- page 40--><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>THE WORLD OF THE UNBORN. (<span class="smcap">part +of chapter xvii. of erewhon</span>.)</h3> +<p>The Erewhonians say it was by chance only that the earth and +stars and all the heavenly worlds began to roll from east to +west, and not from west to east, and in like manner they say it +is by chance that man is drawn through life with his face to the +past instead of to the future. For the future is there as +much as the past, only that we may not see it. Is it not in +the loins of the past, and must not the past alter before the +future can do so?</p> +<p>They have a fable that there was a race of men tried upon the +earth once, who knew the future better than the past, but that +they died in a twelvemonth from the misery which their knowledge +caused them. They say that if any were to be born too +prescient now, he would die miserably, before he had time to +transmit so peace-destroying a faculty to descendants.</p> +<p>Strange fate for man! He must perish if he get that, +which he must perish if he strive not after. If he strive +not after it he is no better than the brutes, if he get it he is +more miserable than the devils.</p> +<p>Having waded through many chapters like the above, I came at +last to the unborn themselves, and found that they were held to +be souls pure and simple, having no actual bodies, but living in +a sort of gaseous <!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 41</span>yet more or less anthropomorphic +existence, like that of a ghost; they have thus neither flesh nor +blood nor warmth. Nevertheless they are supposed to have +local habitations and cities wherein they dwell, though these are +as unsubstantial as their inhabitants; they are even thought to +eat and drink some thin ambrosial sustenance, and generally to be +capable of doing whatever mankind can do, only after a visionary +ghostly fashion, as in a dream. On the other hand, as long +as they remain where they are they never die—the only form +of death in the unborn world being the leaving it for our +own. They are believed to be extremely numerous, far more +so than mankind. They arrive from unknown planets, full +grown, in large batches at a time; but they can only leave the +unborn world by taking the steps necessary for their arrival +here—which is, in fact, by suicide.</p> +<p>They ought to be a happy people, for they have no extremes of +good or ill fortune; never marrying, but living in a state much +like that fabled by the poets as the primitive condition of +mankind. In spite of this, however, they are incessantly +complaining; they know that we in this world have bodies, and +indeed they know everything else about us, for they move among us +whithersoever they will, and can read our thoughts, as well as +survey our actions at pleasure. One would think that this +should be enough for them; and indeed most of them are alive to +the desperate risk which they will run by indulging themselves in +that body with “sensible warm motion” which they so +much desire; nevertheless, there are some to whom the +<i>ennui</i> of a disembodied existence is so intolerable that +they will venture anything for a change; so they resolve to +quit. The conditions which they must accept are <!-- page +42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span>so +uncertain, that none but the most foolish of the unborn will +consent to take them; and it is from these and these only that +our own ranks are recruited.</p> +<p>When they have finally made up their minds to leave, they must +go before the magistrate of the nearest town and sign an +affidavit of their desire to quit their then existence. On +their having done this, the magistrate reads them the conditions +which they must accept, and which are so long that I can only +extract some of the principal points, which are mainly the +following:—</p> +<p>First, they must take a potion which will destroy their memory +and sense of identity; they must go into the world helpless, and +without a will of their own; they must draw lots for their +dispositions before they go, and take it, such as it is, for +better or worse—neither are they to be allowed any choice +in the matter of the body which they so much desire; they are +simply allotted by chance, and without appeal, to two people whom +it is their business to find and pester until they adopt +them. Who these are to be, whether rich or poor, kind or +unkind, healthy or diseased, there is no knowing; they have, in +fact, to entrust themselves for many years to the care of those +for whose good constitution and good sense they have no sort of +guarantee.</p> +<p>It is curious to read the lectures which the wiser heads give +to those who are meditating a change. They talk with them +as we talk with a spendthrift, and with about as much +success.</p> +<p>“To be born,” they say, “is a +felony—it is a capital crime, for which sentence may be +executed at any moment after the commission of the offence. +You may perhaps happen to live for some seventy or eighty years, +but what is that, in comparison with the eternity <!-- page +43--><a name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>which +you now enjoy? And even though the sentence were commuted, +and you were allowed to live for ever, you would in time become +so terribly weary of life that execution would be the greatest +mercy to you. Consider the infinite risk; to be born of +wicked parents and trained in vice! to be born of silly parents, +and trained to unrealities! of parents who regard you as a sort +of chattel or property, belonging more to them than to +yourself! Again, you may draw utterly unsympathetic +parents, who will never be able to understand you, and who will +thwart you as long as they can to the utmost of their power (as a +hen when she has hatched a duckling), and then call you +ungrateful because you do not love them, or parents who may look +upon you as a thing to be cowed while it is still young, lest it +should give them trouble hereafter by having wishes and feelings +of its own.</p> +<p>“In later life, when you have been finally allowed to +pass muster as a full member of the world, you will yourself +become liable to the pesterings of the unborn—and a very +happy life you may be led in consequence! For we solicit so +strongly that a few only—nor these the best—can +refuse us; and yet not to refuse is much the same as going into +partnership with half a dozen different people about whom one can +know absolutely nothing beforehand—not even whether one is +going into partnership with men or women, nor with how many of +either. Delude not yourself with thinking that you will be +wiser than your parents. You may be an age in advance of +<i>them</i>, but unless you are one of the great ones (and if you +are one of the great ones, woe betide you), you will still be an +age behind your children.</p> +<p>“Imagine what it must be to have an unborn <!-- page +44--><a name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +44</span>quartered upon you, who is of a different temperament to +your own; nay, half a dozen such, who will not love you though +you may tell them that you have stinted yourself in a thousand +ways to provide for their well-being,—who will forget all +that self-sacrifice of which you are yourself so conscious, and +of whom you may never be sure that they are not bearing a grudge +against you for errors of judgment into which you may have +fallen, but which you had hoped had been long since atoned +for. Ingratitude such as this is not uncommon, yet fancy +what it must be to bear! It is hard upon the duckling to +have been hatched by a hen, but is it not also hard upon the hen +to have hatched the duckling?</p> +<p>“Consider it again, we pray you, not for our sake but +for your own. Your initial character you must draw by lot; +but whatever it is, it can only come to a tolerably successful +development after long training; remember that over that training +you will have no control. It is possible, and even +probable, that whatever you may get in after life which is of +real pleasure and service to you, will have to be won in spite +of, rather than by the help of, those whom you are now about to +pester, and that you will only win your freedom after years of a +painful struggle, in which it will be hard to say whether you +have suffered most injury, or inflicted it.</p> +<p>“Remember also, that if you go into the world you will +have free will; that you will be obliged to have it, that there +is no escaping it, that you will be fettered to it during your +whole life, and must on every occasion do that which on the whole +seems best to you at any given time, no matter whether you are +right or wrong in choosing it. Your mind will be a balance +for considerations, <!-- page 45--><a name="page45"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 45</span>and your action will go with the +heavier scale. How it shall fall will depend upon the kind +of scales which you may have drawn at birth, the bias which they +will have obtained by use, and the weight of the immediate +considerations. If the scales were good to start with, and +if they have not been outrageously tampered with in childhood, +and if the combinations into which you enter are average ones, +you may come off well; but there are too many “ifs” +in this, and with the failure of any one of them your misery is +assured. Reflect on this, and remember that should the ill +come upon you, you will have yourself to thank, for it is your +own choice to be born, and there is no compulsion in the +matter.</p> +<p>“Not that we deny the existence of pleasures among +mankind; there is a certain show of sundry phases of contentment +which may even amount to very considerable happiness; but mark +how they are distributed over a man’s life, belonging, all +the keenest of them, to the fore part, and few indeed to the +after. Can there be any pleasure worth purchasing with the +miseries of a decrepit age? If you are good, strong, and +handsome, you have a fine fortune indeed at twenty, but how much +of it will be left at sixty? For you must live on your +capital; there is no investing your powers so that you may get a +small annuity of life for ever: you must eat up your principal +bit by bit and be tortured by seeing it grow continually smaller +and smaller, even though you happen to escape being rudely robbed +of it by crime or casualty. Remember, too, that there never +yet was a man of forty who would not come back into the world of +the unborn if he could do so with decency and honour. Being +in the world, he will as a general rule stay till he is forced to +go; but do you think that <!-- page 46--><a +name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>he would +consent to be born again, and re-live his life, if he had the +offer of doing so? Do not think it. If he could so +alter the past as that he should never have come into being at +all, do you not think that he would do it very gladly? What +was it that one of their own poets meant, if it was not this, +when he cried out upon the day in which he was born, and the +night in which it was said there is a man child conceived? +‘For now,’ he says, ‘I should have lain still +and been quiet, I should have slept; then had I been at rest with +kings and counsellors of the earth, which built desolate places +for themselves; or with princes that had gold, who filled their +houses with silver; or as an hidden untimely birth, I had not +been; as infants which never saw light. There the wicked +cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.’ Be +very sure that the guilt of being born carries this punishment at +times to all men; but how can they ask for pity, or complain of +any mischief that may befall them, having entered open-eyed into +the snare?</p> +<p>“One word more and we have done. If any faint +remembrance, as of a dream, flit in some puzzled moment across +your brain, and you shall feel that the potion which is to be +given you shall not have done its work, and the memory of this +existence which you are leaving endeavours vainly to return; we +say in such a moment, when you clutch at the dream but it eludes +your grasp, and you watch it, as Orpheus watched Eurydice, +gliding back again into the twilight kingdom, +fly—fly—if you can remember the advice—to the +haven of your present and immediate duty, taking shelter +incessantly in the work which you have in hand. This much +you may perhaps recall; and this, if you will imprint it deeply +upon your every <!-- page 47--><a name="page47"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 47</span>faculty, will be most likely to bring +you safely and honourably home through the trials that are before +you.” <a name="citation47"></a><a href="#footnote47" +class="citation">[47]</a></p> +<p>This is the fashion in which they reason with those who would +be for leaving them, but it is seldom that they do much good, for +none but the unquiet and unreasonable ever think of being born, +and those who are foolish enough to think of it are generally +foolish enough to do it. Finding therefore that they can do +no more, the friends follow weeping to the courthouse of the +chief magistrate, where the one who wishes to be born declares +solemnly and openly that he accepts the conditions attached to +his decision. On this he is presented with the potion, +which immediately destroys his memory and sense of identity, and +dissipates the thin gaseous tenement which he has inhabited: he +becomes a bare vital principle, not to be perceived by human +senses, nor appreciated by any chemical test. He has but +one instinct, which is that he is to go to such and such a place, +where he will find two persons whom he is to importune till they +consent to undertake him; but whether he is to find these persons +among the race of Chowbok or the Erewhonians themselves is not +for him to choose.</p> +<h2><!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +48</span>SELECTIONS FROM THE FAIR HAVEN.</h2> +<h3>MEMOIR OF THE LATE JOHN PICKARD OWEN. (<span +class="smcap">chapter i. of the fair haven</span>.) <a +name="citation48"></a><a href="#footnote48" +class="citation">[48]</a></h3> +<p>The subject of this memoir, and author of the work which +follows it, was born in Goodge Street, Tottenham Court Road, +London, on the 5th of February 1832. He was my elder +brother by about eighteen months. Our father and mother had +once been rich, but through a succession of unavoidable +misfortunes they were left with but a slender income when my +brother and myself were about three and four years old. My +father died some five or six years afterwards, and we only +recollected him as a singularly gentle and humorous playmate who +doted upon us both and never spoke unkindly.</p> +<p>The charm of such a recollection can never be dispelled; both +my brother and myself returned his love with interest, and +cherished his memory with the most affectionate regret, from the +day on which he left us till the time came that the one of us was +again to see him face to face. So sweet and winning was his +nature that his slightest wish was our law—and whenever we +pleased him, no matter how little, he never failed to thank us as +though we had done him <!-- page 49--><a name="page49"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 49</span>a service which we should have had a +perfect right to withhold. How proud were we upon any of +these occasions, and how we courted the opportunity of being +thanked! He did indeed well know the art of becoming +idolised by his children, and dearly did he prize the results of +his own proficiency; yet truly there was no art about it; all +arose spontaneously from the well-spring of a sympathetic nature +which was quick to feel as others felt, whether old or young, +rich or poor, wise or foolish. On one point alone did he +neglect us—I refer to our religious education. On all +other matters he was the kindest and most careful teacher in the +world. Love and gratitude be to his memory!</p> +<p>My mother loved us no less ardently than my father, but she +was of a quicker temper, and less adept at conciliating +affection. She must have been exceedingly handsome when she +was young, and was still comely when we first remembered her; she +was also highly accomplished, but she felt my father’s loss +of fortune more keenly than my father himself, and it preyed upon +her mind, though rather for our sake than for her own. Had +we not known my father we should have loved her better than any +one in the world, but affection goes by comparison, and my father +spoiled us for any one but himself; indeed, in after life, I +remember my mother’s telling me, with many tears, how +jealous she had often been of the love we bore him, and how mean +she had thought it of him to entrust all scolding or repression +to her, so that he might have more than his due share of our +affection. Not that I believe my father did this +consciously; still, he so greatly hated scolding that I dare say +we might often have got off scot-free when we really deserved +reproof <!-- page 50--><a name="page50"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 50</span>had not my mother undertaken the +<i>onus</i> of scolding us herself. We therefore naturally +feared her more than my father, and fearing more we loved +less. For as love casteth out fear, so fear love.</p> +<p>This must have been hard to bear, and my mother scarcely knew +the way to bear it. She tried to upbraid us, in little +ways, into loving her as much as my father; the more she tried +this, the less we could succeed in doing it; and so on and so on +in a fashion which need not be detailed. Not but what we +really loved her deeply, while her affection for us was +insurpassable; still we loved her less than we loved my father, +and this was the grievance.</p> +<p>My father entrusted our religious education entirely to my +mother. He was himself, I am assured, of a deeply religious +turn of mind, and a thoroughly consistent member of the Church of +England; but he conceived, and perhaps rightly, that it is the +mother who should first teach her children to lift their hands in +prayer, and impart to them a knowledge of the One in whom we live +and move and have our being. My mother accepted the task +gladly, for in spite of a certain narrowness of view—the +natural but deplorable result of her earlier +surroundings—she was one of the most truly pious women whom +I have ever known; unfortunately for herself and us she had been +trained in the lowest school of Evangelical literalism—a +school which in after life both my brother and myself came to +regard as the main obstacle to the complete overthrow of +unbelief; we therefore looked upon it with something stronger +than aversion, and for my own part I still deem it perhaps the +most insidious enemy which the cause of Christ has ever +encountered. But of this more hereafter.</p> +<p><!-- page 51--><a name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +51</span>My mother, as I said, threw her whole soul into the work +of our religious education. Whatever she believed she +believed literally, and, if I may say so, with a harshness of +realisation which left little scope for imagination or +mystery. Her ideas concerning heaven and her solutions of +life’s enigmas were clear and simple, but they could only +be reconciled with certain obvious facts—such as the +omnipotence and all-goodness of God—by leaving many things +absolutely out of sight. And this my mother succeeded +effectually in doing. She never doubted that her opinions +comprised the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth; +she therefore made haste to sow the good seed in our tender +minds, and so far succeeded that when my brother was four years +old he could repeat the Apostles’ Creed, the general +confession, and the Lord’s Prayer without a blunder. +My mother made herself believe that he delighted in them; but, +alas! it was far otherwise; for strange as it may appear +concerning one whose later life was a continual prayer, in +childhood he detested nothing so much as being made to pray, and +to learn his catechism. In this I am sorry to say we were +both heartily of a mind. As for Sunday the less said the +better.</p> +<p>I have already hinted (but as a warning to other parents had +better, perhaps, express myself more plainly) that this aversion +was probably the result of my mother’s undue eagerness to +reap an artificial fruit of lip-service, which could have little +meaning to the heart of one so young. I believe that the +severe check which the natural growth of faith experienced in my +brother’s case was due almost entirely to this cause, and +to the school of literalism in which he had been trained; but, +however this may be, we both of us hated being made <!-- page +52--><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 52</span>to +say our prayers. Morning and evening it was our one +bugbear, and we would avoid it, as indeed children generally +will, by every artifice which we could employ.</p> +<p>Thus we were in the habit of feigning to be asleep shortly +before prayer time, and would gratefully hear my father tell my +mother that it was a shame to wake us; whereon he would carry us +up to bed in a state apparently of the profoundest slumber when +we were really wide awake and in great fear of detection. +For we knew how to pretend to be asleep, but we did not know how +we ought to wake again; there was nothing for it therefore when +we were once committed, but to go on sleeping till we were fairly +undressed and put to bed, and could wake up safely in the +dark. But deceit is never long successful, and we were at +last ignominiously exposed.</p> +<p>It happened one evening that my mother suspected my brother +John, and tried to open his little hands which were lying clasped +in front of him. Now my brother was as yet very crude and +inconsistent in his theories concerning sleep, and had no +conception what a real sleeper would do under these +circumstances. Fear deprived him of his powers of +reflection, and he thus unfortunately concluded that because +sleepers, so far as he had observed them, were always motionless, +therefore they must be rigid and incapable of motion; and indeed +that any movement, under any circumstances (for from his earliest +childhood he liked to carry his theories to their legitimate +conclusion), would be physically impossible for one who was +really sleeping; forgetful, oh! unhappy one, of the flexibility +of his own body on being carried up stairs, and, more unhappy +still, ignorant of the art of waking. He therefore <!-- +page 53--><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>clenched his fingers harder and harder as he felt my +mother trying to unfold them, while his head hung listless, and +his eyes were closed as though he were sleeping sweetly. It +is needless to detail the agony of shame that followed. My +mother begged my father to box his ears, which my father flatly +refused to do. Then she boxed them herself, and there +followed a scene, and a day or two of disgrace for both of +us.</p> +<p>Shortly after this there happened another misadventure. +A lady came to stay with my mother, and was to sleep in a bed +that had been brought into our nursery, for my father’s +fortunes had already failed, and we were living in a humble +way. We were still but four and five years old, so the +arrangement was not unnatural, and it was assumed that we should +be asleep before the lady went to bed, and be down stairs before +she would get up in the morning. But the arrival of this +lady and her being put to sleep in the nursery were great events +to us in those days, and being particularly wanted to go to +sleep, we of course sat up in bed talking and keeping ourselves +awake till she should come up stairs. Perhaps we had +fancied that she would give us something, but if so we were +disappointed. However, whether this was the case or not, we +were wide awake when our visitor came to bed, and having no +particular object to gain, we made no pretence of sleeping. +The lady kissed us both, told us to lie still and go to sleep +like good children, and then began doing her hair.</p> +<p>I remember this was the occasion on which my brother +discovered a good many things in connection with the fair sex +which had hitherto been beyond his ken; more especially that the +mass of petticoats and clothes which envelop the female form were +not, as he <!-- page 54--><a name="page54"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 54</span>expressed it to me, “all solid +woman,” but that women were not in reality more +substantially built than men, and had legs as much as he +had—a fact which he had never yet realised. On this +he for a long time considered them as impostors, who had wronged +him by leading him to suppose that they had far more “body +in them” (so he said) than he now found they had.</p> +<p>This was a sort of thing which he regarded with stern moral +reprobation. If he had been old enough to have a solicitor +I believe he would have put the matter into his hands, as well as +certain other things which had lately troubled him. For but +recently my mother had bought a fowl, and he had seen it plucked, +and the inside taken out; his irritation had been extreme on +discovering that fowls were not all solid flesh, but that their +insides—and these formed, as it appeared to him, an +enormous percentage of the bird—were perfectly +useless. He was now beginning to understand that sheep and +cows were also hollow as far as good meat was concerned; the +flesh they had was only a mouthful in comparison with what they +ought to have considering their apparent bulk: insignificant, +mere skin and bone covering a cavern. What right had they, +or anything else, to assert themselves as so big, and prove so +empty? And now this discovery of woman’s falsehood +was quite too much for him. The world itself was hollow, +made up of shams and delusions, full of sound and fury signifying +nothing.</p> +<p>Truly a prosaic young gentleman enough. Everything with +him was to be exactly in all its parts what it appeared on the +face of it, and everything was to go on doing exactly what it had +been doing hitherto. <!-- page 55--><a +name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>If a thing +looked solid, it was to be very solid; if hollow, very hollow; +nothing was to be half and half, and nothing was to change unless +he had himself already become accustomed to its times and manners +of changing; there were to be no exceptions and no +contradictions; all things were to be perfectly consistent, and +all premisses to be carried with extremest rigour to their +legitimate conclusions. Heaven was to be very neat (for he +was always tidy himself), and free from sudden shocks to the +nervous system, such as those caused by dogs barking at him, or +cows driven in the streets. God was to resemble my father, +and the Holy Spirit to bear some sort of indistinct analogy to my +mother.</p> +<p>Such were the ideal theories of his +childhood—unconsciously formed, but very firmly believed +in. As he grew up he made such modifications as were forced +upon him by enlarged perceptions, but every modification was an +effort to him, in spite of a continual and successful resistance +to what he recognised as his initial mental defect.</p> +<p>I may perhaps be allowed to say here, in reference to a remark +in the preceding paragraph, that both my brother and myself used +to notice it as an almost invariable rule that children’s +earliest ideas of God are modelled upon the character of their +father—if they have one. Should the father be kind, +considerate, full of the warmest love, fond of showing it, and +reserved only about his displeasure, the child, having learned to +look upon God as his Heavenly Father through the Lord’s +Prayer and our Church Services, will feel towards God as he does +towards his own father; this conception will stick to a man for +years and years after he has attained manhood—probably it +<!-- page 56--><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +56</span>will never leave him. On the other hand, if a man +has found his earthly father harsh and uncongenial, his +conception of his Heavenly Parent will be painful. He will +begin by seeing God as an exaggerated likeness of his +father. He will therefore shrink from Him. The +rottenness of still-born love in the heart of a child poisons the +blood of the soul, and hence, later, crime.</p> +<p>To return, however, to the lady. When she had put on her +night-gown, she knelt down by her bed-side and, to our +consternation, began to say her prayers. This was a cruel +blow to both of us; we had always been under the impression that +grown-up people were not made to say their prayers, and the idea +of any one saying them of his or her own accord had never +occurred to us as possible. Of course the lady would not +say her prayers if she were not obliged; and yet she did say +them; therefore she must be obliged to say them; therefore we +should be obliged to say them, and this was a great +disappointment. Awe-struck and open-mouthed we listened +while the lady prayed aloud and with a good deal of pathos for +many virtues and blessings which I do not now remember, and +finally for my father and mother and for both of us—shortly +afterwards she rose, blew out the light and got into bed. +Every word that she said had confirmed our worst apprehensions: +it was just what we had been taught to say ourselves.</p> +<p>Next morning we compared notes and drew some painful +inferences; but in the course of the day our spirits +rallied. We agreed that there were many mysteries in +connection with life and things which it was high time to +unravel, and that an opportunity was now afforded us which might +not readily occur again. <!-- page 57--><a +name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>All we had to +do was to be true to ourselves and equal to the occasion. +We laid our plans with great astuteness. We would be fast +asleep when the lady came up to bed, but our heads should be +turned in the direction of her bed, and covered with clothes, all +but a single peep-hole. My brother, as the eldest, had +clearly a right to be nearest the lady, but I could see +sufficiently, and could depend on his reporting faithfully +whatever should escape me.</p> +<p>There was no chance of her giving us anything—if she had +meant to do so she would have done it sooner; she might, indeed, +consider the moment of her departure as the most auspicious for +this purpose, but then she was not going yet, and the interval +was at our own disposal. We spent the afternoon in trying +to learn to snore, but we were not certain about it, and in the +end concluded that as snoring was not <i>de rigueur</i> we had +better dispense with it.</p> +<p>We were put to bed; the light was taken away; we were told to +go to sleep, and promised faithfully that we would do so; the +tongue indeed swore, but the mind was unsworn. It was +agreed that we should keep pinching one another to prevent our +going to sleep. We did so at frequent intervals; at last +our patience was rewarded with the heavy creak, as of a stout +elderly lady labouring up the stairs, and presently our victim +entered.</p> +<p>To cut a long story short, the lady on satisfying herself that +we were asleep, never said her prayers at all; during the +remainder of her visit whenever she found us awake she always +said them, but when she thought we were asleep, she never +prayed. I should perhaps say that we had the matter out +with her before she left, and that the consequences were <!-- +page 58--><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +58</span>unpleasant for all parties; they added to the troubles +in which we were already involved as to our prayers, and were +indirectly among the earliest causes which led my brother to look +with scepticism upon religion.</p> +<p>For awhile, however, all went on as though nothing had +happened. An effect of distrust, indeed, remained after the +cause had been forgotten, but my brother was still too young to +oppose anything that my mother told him, and to all outward +appearance he grew in grace no less rapidly than in stature.</p> +<p>For years we led a quiet and eventless life, broken only by +the one great sorrow of our father’s death. Shortly +after this we were sent to a day school in Bloomsbury. We +were neither of us very happy there, but my brother, who always +took kindly to his books, picked up a fair knowledge of Latin and +Greek; he also learned to draw, and to exercise himself a little +in English composition. When I was about fourteen my mother +capitalised a part of her income and started me off to America, +where she had friends who could give me a helping hand; by their +kindness I was enabled, after an absence of twenty years, to +return with a handsome income, but not, alas! before the death of +my mother.</p> +<p>Up to the time of my departure my mother continued to read the +Bible with us and explain it. She had become enamoured of +those millenarian opinions which laid hold of so many some +twenty-five or thirty years ago. The Apocalypse was perhaps +her favourite book in the Bible, and she was imbued with a +conviction that all the many and varied horrors with which it +teems were upon the eve of their accomplishment. The year +eighteen hundred and forty-eight was to be (as indeed it was) a +time of general bloodshed and confusion, <!-- page 59--><a +name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 59</span>while in +eighteen hundred and sixty-six, should it please God to spare +her, her eyes would be gladdened by the visible descent of the +Son of Man with a shout, with the voice of the Archangel, with +the trump of God, and the dead in Christ should rise first; then +she, as one of them that were alive, would be caught up with +other saints into the air, and would possibly receive while +rising some distinguishing token of confidence and approbation +which should fall with due impressiveness upon the surrounding +multitude; then would come the consummation of all things, and +she would be ever with the Lord. She died peaceably in her +bed before she could know that a commercial panic was the nearest +approach to the fulfilment of prophecy which the year eighteen +hundred and sixty-six brought forth.</p> +<p>These opinions of my mother’s injured her naturally +healthy and vigorous mind by leading her to indulge in all manner +of dreamy and fanciful interpretations of Scripture, which any +but the most narrow literalist would feel at once to be +untenable. Thus several times she expressed to us her +conviction that my brother and myself were to be the two +witnesses mentioned in the eleventh chapter of the Book of +Revelation, and dilated upon the gratification she should +experience upon finding that we had indeed been reserved for a +position of such distinction. We were as yet mere children, +and naturally took all for granted that our mother told us; we +therefore made a careful examination of the passage which threw +light upon our future. On finding that the prospect was +gloomy and full of bloodshed we protested against the honours +which were intended for us, more especially when we reflected +that the mother of the two witnesses was not menaced in <!-- page +60--><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +60</span>Scripture with any particular discomfort. If we +were to be martyrs, my mother ought to wish to be a martyr too, +whereas nothing was farther from her intention. Her notion +clearly was that we were to be massacred somewhere in the streets +of London, in consequence of the anti-Christian machinations of +the Pope; that after lying about unburied for three days and a +half we were to come to life again; and finally, that we should +conspicuously ascend to heaven, in front, perhaps, of the +Foundling Hospital.</p> +<p>She was not herself indeed to share either our martyrdom or +our glorification, but was to survive us many years on earth, +living in an odour of great sanctity and reflected splendour, as +the central and most august figure in a select society. She +would perhaps be able indirectly, through her sons’ +influence with the Almighty, to have a voice in most of the +arrangements both of this world and of the next. If all +this were to come true (and things seemed very like it), those +friends who had neglected us in our adversity would not find it +too easy to be restored to favour, however greatly they might +desire it—that is to say, they would not have found it too +easy in the case of one less magnanimous and spiritually-minded +than herself. My mother said but little of the above +directly, but the fragments which occasionally escaped her were +pregnant, and on looking back it is easy to perceive that she +must have been building one of the most stupendous aërial +fabrics that have ever been reared.</p> +<p>I have given the above in its more amusing aspect, and am half +afraid that I may appear to be making a jest of weakness on the +part of one of the most devotedly unselfish mothers who have ever +existed. But one can love while smiling, and the very +wildness of <!-- page 61--><a name="page61"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 61</span>my mother’s dream serves to +show how entirely her whole soul was occupied with the things +which are above. To her, religion was all in all; the earth +was but a place of pilgrimage—only so far important as it +was a possible road to heaven. She impressed this upon both +of us by every word and action—instant in season and out of +season, so that she might but fill us more deeply with a sense of +the things belonging to our peace.</p> +<p>But the inevitable consequences happened; my mother had aimed +too high and had overshot her mark. The influence indeed of +her guileless and unworldly nature remained impressed upon my +brother even during the time of his extremest unbelief (perhaps +his ultimate safety is in the main referable to this cause, and +to the happy memories of my father, which had predisposed him to +love God), but my mother had insisted on the most minute verbal +accuracy of every part of the Bible; she had also dwelt upon the +duty of independent research, and on the necessity of giving up +everything rather than assent to things which our conscience did +not assent to. No one could have more effectually taught us +to try <i>to think</i> the truth, and we had taken her at her +word because our hearts told us that she was right. But she +required three incompatible things. When my brother grew +older he came to feel that independent and unflinching +examination, with a determination to abide by the results, would +lead him to reject the point which to my mother was more +important than any other—I mean the absolute accuracy of +the Gospel records. My mother was inexpressibly shocked at +hearing my brother doubt the authenticity of the Epistle to the +Hebrews; and then, as it appeared to him, she tried to make him +<!-- page 62--><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +62</span>violate the duties of examination and candour which he +had learnt too thoroughly to unlearn. Thereon came pain and +an estrangement which was none the less profound for being +mutually concealed. It seemed to my mother that he would +not give up the wilfulness of his own opinions for her and for +his Redeemer’s sake. To him it seemed that he was +ready to give up not only his mother but Christ Himself for +Christ’s sake.</p> +<p>This estrangement was the gradual work of some five or six +years, during which my brother was between eleven and seventeen +years old. At seventeen, I am told that he was remarkably +well informed and clever. His manners were, like my +father’s, singularly genial, and his appearance very +prepossessing. He had as yet no doubt concerning the +soundness of any fundamental Christian doctrine, but his mind was +already too active to allow of his being contented with my +mother’s childlike faith. There were points on which +he did not indeed doubt, but which it would none the less be +interesting to consider; such for example as the perfectibility +of the regenerate Christian, and the meaning of the mysterious +central chapters of the Epistle to the Romans. He was +engaged in these researches though still only a boy, when an +event occurred which gave the first real shock to his faith.</p> +<p>He was accustomed to teach in a school for the poorest +children every Sunday afternoon, a task for which his patience +and good temper well fitted him. On one occasion, however, +while he was explaining the effect of baptism to one of his +favourite pupils, he discovered to his great surprise that the +boy had never been baptized. He pushed his inquiries +further, and found that out of the fifteen boys in his class only +five had been baptized, and, not only so, but that no difference +<!-- page 63--><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +63</span>in disposition or conduct could be discovered between +the regenerate boys and the unregenerate. The good and bad +boys were distributed in proportions equal to the respective +numbers of the baptized and unbaptized. In spite of a +certain impetuosity of natural character, he was also of a +matter-of-fact and experimental turn of mind; he therefore went +through the whole school, which numbered about a hundred boys, +and found out who had been baptized and who had not. The +same results appeared. The majority had not been baptized; +yet the good and bad dispositions were so distributed as to +preclude all possibility of maintaining that the baptized boys +were better than the unbaptized.</p> +<p>The reader may smile at the idea of any one’s faith +being troubled by a fact of which the explanation is so obvious, +but as a matter of fact my brother was seriously and painfully +shocked. The teacher to whom he applied for a solution of +the difficulty was not a man of any real power, and reported my +brother to the rector for having disturbed the school by his +inquiries. The rector was old and self-opinionated; the +difficulty, indeed, was plainly as new to him as it had been to +my brother, but instead of saying so at once, and referring to +any recognised theological authority, he tried to put him off +with words which seemed intended to silence him rather than to +satisfy him; finally he lost his temper, and my brother fell +under suspicion of unorthodoxy.</p> +<p>This kind of treatment did not answer with my brother. +He alludes to it resentfully in the introductory chapter of his +book. He became suspicious that a preconceived opinion was +being defended at the expense of honest scrutiny, and was thus +driven upon <!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 64</span>his own unaided investigation. +The result may be guessed: he began to go astray, and strayed +further and further. The children of God, he reasoned, the +members of Christ and inheritors of the kingdom of heaven, were +no more spiritually minded than the children of the world and the +devil. Was then the grace of God a gift which left no trace +whatever upon those who were possessed of it? A thing the +presence or absence of which might be ascertained by consulting +the parish registry, but was not discernible in conduct? +The grace of man was more clearly perceptible than this. +Assuredly there must be a screw loose somewhere, which, for aught +he knew, might be jeopardising the salvation of all +Christendom. Where then was this loose screw to be +found?</p> +<p>He concluded after some months of reflection that the mischief +was caused by the system of sponsors and by infant baptism. +He, therefore, to my mother’s inexpressible grief, joined +the Baptists, and was immersed in a pond near Dorking. With +the Baptists he remained quiet about three months, and then began +to quarrel with his instructors as to their doctrine of +predestination. Shortly afterwards he came accidentally +upon a fascinating stranger who was no less struck with my +brother than my brother with him, and this gentleman, who turned +out to be a Roman Catholic missionary, landed him in the Church +of Rome, where he felt sure that he had now found rest for his +soul. But here, too, he was mistaken; after about two years +he rebelled against the stifling of all free inquiry; on this +rebellion the flood-gates of scepticism were opened, and he was +soon battling with unbelief. He then fell in with one who +was a pure Deist, and was shorn of every shred of dogma which he +had ever held, except <!-- page 65--><a name="page65"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 65</span>a belief in the personality and +providence of the Creator.</p> +<p>On reviewing his letters written to me about this time, I am +painfully struck with the manner in which they show that all +these pitiable vagaries were to be traced to a single +cause—a cause which still exists to the misleading of +hundreds of thousands, and which, I fear, seems likely to +continue in full force for many a year to come—I mean, to a +false system of training which teaches people to regard +Christianity as a thing one and indivisible, to be accepted +entirely in the strictest reading of the letter, or to be +rejected as absolutely untrue. The fact is, that all +permanent truth is as one of those coal measures, a seam of which +lies near the surface, and even crops up above the ground, but +which is generally of an inferior quality and soon worked out; +beneath it there comes a labour of sand and clay, and then at +last the true seam of precious quality, and in virtually +inexhaustible supply. The truth which is on the surface is +rarely the whole truth. It is seldom until this has been +worked out and done with—as in the case of the apparent +flatness of the earth—that unchangeable truth is +discovered. It is the glory of the Lord to conceal a +matter: it is the glory of the king to find it out. If my +brother, from whom I have taken the above illustration, had had +some judicious and wide-minded friend, to correct and supplement +the mainly admirable principles which had been instilled into him +by my mother, he would have been saved years of spiritual +wandering; but, as it was, he fell in with one after another, +each in his own way as literal and unspiritual as the +other—each impressed with one aspect of religious truth, +and with one only. In the end he became perhaps the +widest-minded <!-- page 66--><a name="page66"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 66</span>and most original thinker whom I have +ever met; but no one from his early manhood could have augured +this result; on the contrary, he showed every sign of being +likely to develop into one of those who can never see more than +one side of a question at a time, in spite of their seeing that +side with singular clearness of mental vision. In after +life, he often met with mere lads who seemed to him to be years +and years in advance of what he had been at their age, and would +say, smiling, “With a great sum obtained I this freedom; +but thou wast free-born.”</p> +<p>Yet when one comes to think of it, a late development and +laborious growth are generally more fruitful than those which are +over early luxuriant. Drawing an illustration from the art +of painting, with which he was well acquainted, my brother used +to say that all the greatest painters had begun with a hard and +precise manner, from which they had only broken after several +years of effort; and that in like manner all the early schools +were founded upon definiteness of outline to the exclusion of +truth of effect. This may be true; but in my +brother’s case there was something even more unpromising +than this; there was a commonness, so to speak, of mental +execution, from which no one could have foreseen his +after-emancipation. Yet in the course of time he was indeed +emancipated to the very uttermost, while his bonds will, I firmly +trust, be found to have been of inestimable service to the whole +human race.</p> +<p>For although it was so many years before he was enabled to see +the Christian scheme <i>as a whole</i>, or even to conceive the +idea that there was any whole at all, other than each one of the +stages of opinion through which he was at the time passing; yet +when <!-- page 67--><a name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +67</span>the idea was at length presented to him by one whom I +must not name, the discarded fragments of his faith assumed +shape, and formed themselves into a consistently organised +scheme. Then became apparent the value of his knowledge of +the details of so many different sides of Christian verity. +Buried in the details, he had hitherto ignored the fact that they +were only the unessential developments of certain component +parts. Awakening to the perception of the whole after an +intimate acquaintance with the details, he was able to realise +the position and meaning of all that he had hitherto experienced +in a way which has been vouchsafed to few, if any others. +Thus he became truly a broad Churchman. Not broad in the +ordinary and ill-considered use of the term (for the broad +Churchman is as little able to sympathise with Romanists, extreme +High Churchmen and Dissenters, as these are with himself—he +is only one of a sect which is called by the name of broad, +though it is no broader than its own base), but in the true sense +of being able to believe in the naturalness, legitimacy, and +truth <i>quâ</i> Christianity even of those doctrines which +seem to stand most widely and irreconcilably asunder.</p> +<h2><!-- page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +68</span>SELECTIONS FROM LIFE AND HABIT.</h2> +<h3>ON CERTAIN ACQUIRED HABITS. (<span class="smcap">from +chapter i. of life and habit</span>.) <a name="citation68"></a><a +href="#footnote68" class="citation">[68]</a></h3> +<p>It will be our business in the following chapters to consider +whether the unconsciousness, or quasi-unconsciousness, with which +we perform certain acquired actions, throws any light upon +Embryology and inherited instincts, and otherwise to follow the +train of thought which the class of actions above mentioned may +suggest. More especially I propose to consider them in so +far as they bear upon the origin of species and the continuation +of life by successive generations, whether in the animal or +vegetable kingdoms.</p> +<p>Taking then, the art of playing the piano as an example of the +kind of action we are in search of, we observe that a practised +player will perform very difficult pieces apparently without +effort, often, indeed, while thinking and talking of something +quite other than his music; yet he will play accurately and, +possibly, with much expression. If he has been playing a +fugue, say in four parts, he will have kept each part well +distinct, in such a manner as to prove that his mind was not +prevented, by its other occupations, from consciously or +unconsciously following four distinct trains of musical thought +at the same time, nor <!-- page 69--><a name="page69"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 69</span>from making his fingers act in +exactly the required manner as regards each note of each +part.</p> +<p>It commonly happens that in the course of four or five minutes +a player may have struck four or five thousand notes. If we +take into consideration the rests, dotted notes, accidentals, +variations of time, &c., we shall find his attention must +have been exercised on many more occasions than when he was +actually striking notes: so that it may not be too much to say +that the attention of a first-rate player has been +exercised—to an infinitesimally small extent—but +still truly exercised—on as many as ten thousand occasions +within the space of five minutes, for no note can be struck nor +point attended to without a certain amount of attention, no +matter how rapidly or unconsciously given.</p> +<p>Moreover, each act of attention has been followed by an act of +volition, and each act of volition by a muscular action, which is +composed of many minor actions; some so small that we can no more +follow them than the player himself can perceive them; +nevertheless, it may have been perfectly plain that the player +was not attending to what he was doing, but was listening to +conversation on some other subject, not to say joining in it +himself. If he has been playing the violin, he may have +done all the above, and may also have been walking about. +Herr Joachim would unquestionably be able to do all that has here +been described.</p> +<p>So complete may be the player’s unconsciousness of the +attention he is giving, and the brain power he is exerting, that +we may find it difficult to awaken his attention to any +particular part of his performance without putting him out. +Indeed we cannot do so. <!-- page 70--><a +name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 70</span>We observe +that he finds it hardly less difficult to compass a voluntary +consciousness of what he has once learnt so thoroughly that it +has passed, so to speak, into the domain of unconsciousness, than +he found it to learn the note or passage in the first +instance. The effort after a second consciousness of detail +baffles him—compels him to turn to his music or play +slowly. In fact it seems as though he knows the piece too +well to be able to know that he knows it, and is only conscious +of knowing those passages which he does not know so +thoroughly.</p> +<p>At the end of his performance, his power of recollecting +appears to be no less annihilated than was his consciousness of +attention and volition. For of the thousands of acts +requiring the exercise of both the one and the other, which he +has done during the five minutes, we will say, of his +performance, he will remember hardly one when it is over. +If he calls to mind anything beyond the main fact that he has +played such and such a piece, it will probably be some passage +which he has found more difficult than the others, and with the +like of which he has not been so long familiar. All the +rest he will forget as completely as the breath which he has +drawn while playing.</p> +<p>He finds it difficult to remember even the difficulties he +experienced in learning to play. A few may have so +impressed him that they remain with him, but the greater part +will have escaped him as completely as the remembrance of what he +ate, or how he put on his clothes, this day ten years ago; +nevertheless, it is plain he does in reality remember more than +he remembers remembering, for he avoids mistakes which he made at +one time, and his performance proves that <!-- page 71--><a +name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 71</span>all the notes +are in his memory, though if called upon to play such and such a +bar at random from the middle of the piece, and neither more nor +less, he will probably say that he cannot remember it unless he +begins from the beginning of the phrase which leads to it.</p> +<p>In spite, however, of the performer’s present +proficiency, our experience of the manner in which proficiency is +usually acquired warrants us in assuming that there must have +been a time when what is now so easy as to be done without +conscious effort of the brain was only done by means of brain +work which was very keenly perceived, even to fatigue and +positive distress. Even now, if the player is playing +something the like of which he has not met before, we observe he +pauses and becomes immediately conscious of attention.</p> +<p>We draw the inference, therefore, as regards pianoforte or +violin playing, that the more the familiarity or knowledge of the +art, the less is there consciousness of such knowledge; even so +far as that there should be almost as much difficulty in +awakening consciousness which has become, so to speak, +latent,—a consciousness of that which is known too well to +admit of recognised self-analysis while the knowledge is being +exercised—as in creating a consciousness of that which is +not yet well enough known to be properly designated as known at +all. On the other hand, we observe that the less the +familiarity or knowledge, the greater the consciousness of +whatever knowledge there is.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>To sum up, then, briefly. It would appear as though +perfect knowledge and perfect ignorance were extremes which meet +and become indistinguishable from one another; so also perfect +volition and perfect <!-- page 72--><a name="page72"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 72</span>absence of volition, perfect memory +and perfect forgetfulness; for we are unconscious of knowing, +willing, or remembering, either from not yet having known or +willed, or from knowing and willing so well and so intensely as +to be no longer conscious of either. Conscious knowledge +and volition are of attention; attention is of suspense; suspense +is of doubt; doubt is of uncertainty; uncertainty is of +ignorance; so that the mere fact of conscious knowing or willing +implies the presence of more or less novelty and doubt.</p> +<p>It would also appear as a general principle on a superficial +view of the foregoing instances (and the reader may readily +supply himself with others which are perhaps more to the +purpose), that unconscious knowledge and unconscious volition are +never acquired otherwise than as the result of experience, +familiarity, or habit; so that whenever we observe a person able +to do any complicated action unconsciously, we may assume both +that he must have done it very often before he could acquire so +great proficiency, and also that there must have been a time when +he did not know how to do it at all.</p> +<p>We may assume that there was a time when he was yet so nearly +on the point of neither knowing nor willing perfectly, that he +was quite alive to whatever knowledge or volition he could exert; +going further back, we shall find him still more keenly alive to +a less perfect knowledge; earlier still, we find him well aware +that he does not know nor will correctly, but trying hard to do +both the one and the other; and so on, back and back, till both +difficulty and consciousness become little more than “a +sound of going,” as it were, in the brain, a flitting to +and fro of something barely recognisable as the desire to will or +know at all—much <!-- page 73--><a name="page73"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 73</span>less as the desire to know or will +definitely this or that. Finally they retreat beyond our +ken into the repose—the inorganic kingdom—of as yet +unawakened interest.</p> +<p>In either case—the repose of perfect ignorance or of +perfect knowledge—disturbance is troublesome. When +first starting on an Atlantic steamer, our rest is hindered by +the screw; after a short time, it is hindered if the screw +stops. A uniform impression is practically no +impression. One cannot either learn or unlearn without +pains or pain.</p> +<h3><!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +74</span>CONSCIOUS AND UNCONSCIOUS KNOWERS THE LAW AND +GRACE. (<span class="smcap">from chapter ii. of life and +habit</span>.)</h3> +<p>Certain it is that we know best what we are least conscious of +knowing, or at any rate least able to prove; as, for example, our +own existence, or that there is a country England. If any +one asks us for proof on matters of this sort, we have none +ready, and are justly annoyed at being called to consider what we +regard as settled questions. Again, there is hardly +anything which so much affects our actions as the centre of the +earth (unless, perhaps, it be that still hotter and more +unprofitable spot the centre of the universe), for we are +incessantly trying to get as near it as circumstances will allow, +or to avoid getting nearer than is for the time being +convenient. Walking, running, standing, sitting, lying, +waking, or sleeping, from birth till death it is a paramount +object with us; even after death—if it be not fanciful to +say so—it is one of the few things of which what is left of +us can still feel the influence; yet what can engross less of our +attention than this dark and distant spot so many thousands of +miles away?</p> +<p>The air we breathe, so long as it is neither too hot nor cold, +nor rough, nor full of smoke—that is to say, so long as it +is in that state with which we are best <!-- page 75--><a +name="page75"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +75</span>acquainted—seldom enters into our thoughts; yet +there is hardly anything with which we are more incessantly +occupied night and day.</p> +<p>Indeed, it is not too much to say that we have no really +profound knowledge upon any subject—no knowledge on the +strength of which we are ready to act at moments unhesitatingly +without either preparation or after-thought—till we have +left off feeling conscious of the possession of such knowledge, +and of the grounds on which it rests. A lesson thoroughly +learned must be like the air which feels so light, though +pressing so heavily against us, because every pore of our skin is +saturated, so to speak, with it on all sides equally. This +perfection of knowledge sometimes extends to positive disbelief +in the thing known, so that the most thorough knower shall +believe himself altogether ignorant. No thief, for example, +is such an utter thief—so <i>good</i> a thief—as the +kleptomaniac. Until he has become a kleptomaniac, and can +steal a horse as it were by a reflex action, he is still but half +a thief, with many unthievish notions still clinging to +him. Yet the kleptomaniac is probably unaware that he can +steal at all, much less that he can steal so well. He would +be shocked if he were to know the truth. So again, no man +is a great hypocrite until he has left off knowing that he is a +hypocrite. The great hypocrites of the world are almost +invariably under the impression that they are among the very few +really honest people to be found; and, as we must all have +observed, it is rare to find any one strongly under this +impression without ourselves having good reason to differ from +him.</p> +<p>Again, it has been often and very truly said that it is not +the conscious and self-styled sceptic, as Shelley, <!-- page +76--><a name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 76</span>for +example, who is the true unbeliever. Such a man as Shelley +will, as indeed his life abundantly proves, have more in common +than not with the true unselfconscious believer. Gallio +again, whose indifference to religious animosities has won him +the cheapest immortality which, so far as I can remember, was +ever yet won, was probably, if the truth were known, a person of +the sincerest piety. It is the unconscious unbeliever who +is the true infidel, however greatly he would be surprised to +know the truth. Mr. Spurgeon was reported as having asked +God to remove Lord Beaconsfield from office “<i>as soon as +possible</i>.” There lurks a more profound distrust +of God’s power in these words than in almost any open +denial of His existence.</p> +<p>In like manner, the most perfect humour and irony is generally +quite unconscious. Examples of both are frequently given by +men whom the world considers as deficient in humour; it is more +probably true that these persons are unconscious of their own +delightful power through the very mastery and perfection with +which they hold it. There is a play, for instance, of +genuine fun in some of the more serious scientific and +theological journals which for some time past we have looked for +in vain in “---”</p> +<p>The following extract, from a journal which I will not +advertise, may serve as an example:</p> +<p>“Lycurgus, when they had abandoned to his revenge him +who had put out his eyes, took him home, and the punishment he +inflicted upon him was sedulous instructions to +virtue.” Yet this truly comic paper does not probably +know that it is comic, any more than the kleptomaniac knows that +he steals, or than John Milton knew he was a humorist when he +wrote a hymn upon the circumcision, and spent his honeymoon <!-- +page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +77</span>in composing a treatise on divorce. No more again +did Goethe know how exquisitely humorous he was when he wrote, in +his Wilhelm Meister, that a beautiful tear glistened in +Theresa’s right eye, and then went on to explain that it +glistened in her right eye and not in her left, because she had +had a wart on her left which had been removed—and +successfully. Goethe probably wrote this without a chuckle; +he believed what a good many people who have never read Wilhelm +Meister believe still, namely, that it was a work full of +pathos—of fine and tender feeling; yet a less consummate +humorist must have felt that there was scarcely a paragraph in it +from first to last the chief merit of which did not lie in its +absurdity.</p> +<p>But enough has perhaps been said. As the fish in the +sea, or the bird in the air, so unreasoningly and inarticulately +safe must a man feel before he can be said to know. It is +only those who are ignorant and uncultivated who can know +anything at all in a proper sense of the words. Cultivation +will breed in any man a certainty of the uncertainty even of his +most assured convictions. It is perhaps fortunate for our +comfort that we can none of us be cultivated upon very many +subjects, so that considerable scope for assurance will still +remain to us; but however this may be, we certainly observe it as +a fact that those are the greatest men who are most uncertain in +spite of certainty, and at the same time most certain in spite of +uncertainty, and who are thus best able to feel that there is +nothing in such complete harmony with itself as a flat +contradiction in terms. For nature hates that any principle +should breed, so to speak, hermaphroditically, but will give to +each an help meet for it which shall cross it and be the undoing +of it; as <!-- page 78--><a name="page78"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 78</span>in the case of descent with +modification, of which the essence is that every offspring +resembles its parents, and yet, at the same time, that no +offspring resembles its parents. But for the slightly +irritating stimulant of this perpetual crossing, we should pass +our lives unconsciously as though in slumber.</p> +<p>Until we have got to understand that though black is not +white, yet it may be whiter than white itself (and any painter +will readily paint that which shall show obviously as black, yet +it shall be whiter than that which shall show no less obviously +as white), we may be good logicians, but we are still poor +reasoners. Knowledge is in an inchoate state as long as it +is capable of logical treatment; it must be transmuted into that +sense or instinct which rises altogether above the sphere in +which words can have being at all, otherwise it is not yet +incarnate. For sense is to knowledge what conscience is to +reasoning about light and wrong; the reasoning must be so rapid +as to defy conscious reference to first principles, and even at +times to be apparently subversive of them altogether, or the +action will halt. It must become automatic before we are +safe with it. While we are fumbling for the grounds of our +conviction, our conviction is prone to fall, as Peter for lack of +faith sinking into the waves of Galilee; so that the very power +to prove at all is an <i>à priori</i> argument against the +truth—or at any rate the practical importance to the vast +majority of mankind—of all that is supported by +demonstration. For the power to prove implies a sense of +the need of proof, and things which the majority of mankind find +practically important are in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred +above proof. The need of proof becomes as obsolete in the +case of assured knowledge, as the practice of fortifying <!-- +page 79--><a name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +79</span>towns in the middle of an old and long-settled +country. Who builds defences for that which is impregnable +or little likely to be assailed? The answer is ready, that +unless the defences had been built in former times it would be +impossible to do without them now; but this does not touch the +argument, which is not that demonstration is unwise but that as +long as a demonstration is still felt necessary, and therefore +kept ready to hand, the subject of such demonstration is not yet +securely known. <i>Qui s’excuse</i>, +<i>s’accuse</i>; and unless a matter can hold its own +without the brag and self-assertion of continual demonstration, +it is still more or less of a parvenu, which we shall not lose +much by neglecting till it has less occasion to blow its own +trumpet. The only alternative is that it is an error in +process of detection, for if evidence concerning any opinion has +long been deemed superfluous, and ever after this comes to be +again felt necessary, we know that the opinion is doomed.</p> +<p>If there is any truth in the above, it follows that our +conception of the words “science” and +“scientific” must undergo some modification. +Not that we should speak slightingly of science, but that we +should recognise more than we do, that there are two distinct +classes of scientific people, corresponding not inaptly with the +two main parties into which the political world is divided. +The one class is deeply versed in those sciences which have +already become the common property of mankind; enjoying, +enforcing, perpetuating, and engraining still more deeply into +the mind of man acquisitions already approved by common +experience, but somewhat careless about extension of empire, or +at any rate disinclined, for the most part, to active effort on +their own part for the sake of such extension—<!-- page +80--><a name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +80</span>neither progressive, in fact, nor aggressive—but +quiet, peaceable people, who wish to live and let live, as their +fathers before them; while the other class is chiefly intent upon +pushing forward the boundaries of science, and is comparatively +indifferent to what is known already save in so far as necessary +for purposes of extension. These last are called pioneers +of science, and to them alone is the title +“scientific” commonly accorded; but pioneers, +important to an army as they are, are still not the army itself, +which can get on better without the pioneers than the pioneers +without the army. Surely the class which knows thoroughly +well what it knows, and which adjudicates upon the value of the +discoveries made by the pioneers—surely this class has as +good a right or better to be called scientific than the pioneers +themselves.</p> +<p>These two classes above described blend into one another with +every shade of gradation. Some are admirably proficient in +the well-known sciences—that is to say, they have good +health, good looks, good temper, common sense, and energy, and +they hold all these good things in such perfection as to be +altogether without introspection—to be not under the law, +but so entirely under grace that every one who sees them likes +them. But such may, and perhaps more commonly will, have +very little inclination to extend the boundaries of human +knowledge; their aim is in another direction altogether. Of +the pioneers, on the other hand, some are agreeable people, well +versed in the older sciences, though still more eminent as +pioneers, while others, whose services in this last capacity have +been of inestimable value, are noticeably ignorant of the +sciences which have already become current with the larger part +of mankind—in other words, they are ugly, rude, and +disagreeable <!-- page 81--><a name="page81"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 81</span>people, very progressive, it may be, +but very aggressive to boot.</p> +<p>The main difference between these two classes lies in the fact +that the knowledge of the one, so far as it is new, is known +consciously, while that of the other is unconscious, consisting +of sense and instinct rather than of recognised knowledge. +So long as a man has these, and of the same kind as the more +powerful body of his fellow-countrymen, he is a man of science +though he can hardly read or write. As my great namesake +said so well, “He knows what’s what, and that’s +as high as metaphysic wit can fly.” As is usual in +cases of great proficiency, these true and thorough knowers do +not know that they are scientific, and can seldom give a reason +for the faith that is in them. They believe themselves to +be ignorant, uncultured men, nor can even the professors whom +they sometimes outwit in their own professorial domain perceive +that they have been outwitted by men of superior scientific +attainments to their own. The following passage from Dr. +Carpenter’s “Mesmerism, Spiritualism,” &c., +may serve as an illustration:—</p> +<p>“It is well known that persons who are conversant with +the geological structure of a district are often able to indicate +with considerable certainty in what spot and at what depth water +will be found; and men <i>of less scientific knowledge</i>, +<i>but of considerable practical experience</i>”—(so +that in Dr. Carpenter’s mind there seems to be some sort of +contrast or difference in kind between the knowledge which is +derived from observation of facts and scientific +knowledge)—“frequently arrive at a true conclusion +upon this point without being able to assign reasons for their +opinions.”</p> +<p>“Exactly the same may be said in regard to the <!-- page +82--><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>mineral structure of a mining district; the course of a +metallic vein being often correctly indicated by the shrewd guess +of an <i>observant</i> workman, when <i>the scientific +reasoning</i> of the mining engineer altogether fails.”</p> +<p>Precisely. Here we have exactly the kind of thing we are +in search of: the man who has observed and observed till the +facts are so thoroughly in his head that through familiarity he +has lost sight both of them and of the processes whereby he +deduced his conclusions from them—is apparently not +considered scientific, though he knows how to solve the problem +before him; the mining engineer, on the other hand, who reasons +scientifically—that is to say, with a knowledge of his own +knowledge—is found not to know, and to fail in discovering +the mineral.</p> +<p>“It is an experience we are continually encountering in +other walks of life,” continues Dr. Carpenter, “that +particular persons are guided—some apparently by an +original and others by <i>an acquired intuition</i>—to +conclusions for which they can give no adequate reason, but which +subsequent events prove to have been correct.” And +this, I take it, implies what I have been above insisting on, +namely, that on becoming intense, knowledge seems also to become +unaware of the grounds on which it rests, or that it has or +requires grounds at all, or indeed even exists. The only +issue between myself and Dr. Carpenter would appear to be that +Dr. Carpenter, himself an acknowledged leader in the scientific +world, restricts the term “scientific” to the people +who know that they know, but are beaten by those who are not so +conscious of their own knowledge; while I say that the term +“scientific” should be applied (only that they would +not like it) to the nice sensible <!-- page 83--><a +name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 83</span>people who +know what’s what rather than to the professorial +classes.</p> +<p>And this is easily understood when we remember that the +pioneer cannot hope to acquire any of the new sciences in a +single lifetime so perfectly as to become unaware of his own +knowledge. As a general rule, we observe him to be still in +a state of active consciousness concerning whatever particular +science he is extending, and as long as he is in this state he +cannot know utterly. It is, as I have already so often +insisted, those who do not know that they know so much who have +the firmest grip of their knowledge: the best class, for example, +of our English youth, who live much in the open air, and, as Lord +Beaconsfield finely said, never read. These are the people +who know best those things which are best worth +knowing—that is to say, they are the most truly +scientific.</p> +<p>Unfortunately, the apparatus necessary for this kind of +science is so costly as to be within the reach of few, involving, +as it does, an experience in the use of it for some preceding +generations. Even those who are born with the means within +their reach must take no less pains, and exercise no less +self-control, before they can attain the perfect unconscious use +of them, than would go to the making of a James Watt or a +Stephenson; it is vain, therefore, to hope that this best kind of +science can ever be put within the reach of the many; +nevertheless it may be safely said that all the other and more +generally recognised kinds of science are valueless except in so +far as they minister to this the highest kind. They have no +<i>raison d’être</i> unless they tend to do away with +the necessity for work, and to diffuse good health, and that good +sense which is above self-consciousness. They are to be +encouraged because <!-- page 84--><a name="page84"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 84</span>they have rendered the most fortunate +kind of modern European possible, and because they tend to make +possible a still more fortunate kind than any now existing. +But the man who devotes himself to science cannot—with the +rarest, if any, exceptions—belong to this most fortunate +class himself. He occupies a lower place, both +scientifically and morally, for it is not possible but that his +drudgery should somewhat soil him both in mind and health of +body, or, if this be denied, surely it must let him and hinder +him in running the race for unconsciousness. We do not feel +that it increases the glory of a king or great nobleman that he +should excel in what is commonly called science. Certainly +he should not go further than Prince Rupert’s drops. +Nor should he excel in music, art, literature, or +theology—all which things are more or less parts of +science. He should be above them all, save in so far as he +can without effort reap renown from the labours of others. +It is a <i>láche</i> in him that he should write music or +books, or paint pictures at all; but if he must do so, his work +should be at best contemptible. Much as we must condemn +Marcus Aurelius, we condemn James I. even more severely.</p> +<p>It is a pity there should exist so general a confusion of +thought upon this subject, for it may be asserted without fear of +contradiction that there is hardly any form of immorality now +rife which produces more disastrous effects upon those who give +themselves up to it, and upon society in general, than the +so-called science of those who know that they know too well to be +able to know truly. With very clever people—the +people who know that they know—it is much as with the +members of the early Corinthian Church, to whom St. Paul wrote, +that if they looked their numbers over, <!-- page 85--><a +name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>they would +not find many wise, nor powerful, nor well-born people among +them. Dog-fanciers tell us that performing dogs never carry +their tails; such dogs have eaten of the tree of knowledge, and +are convinced of sin accordingly—they know that they know +things, in respect of which, therefore, they are no longer under +grace, but under the law, and they have yet so much grace left as +to be ashamed. So with the human clever dog; he may speak +with the tongues of men and angels, but so long as he knows that +he knows, his tail will droop.</p> +<p>More especially does this hold in the case of those who are +born to wealth and of old family. We must all feel that a +rich young nobleman with a taste for science and principles is +rarely a pleasant object. We do not understand the rich +young man in the Bible who wanted to inherit eternal life, +unless, indeed, he merely wanted to know whether there was not +some way by which he could avoid dying, and even so he is hardly +worth considering. Principles are like logic, which never +yet made a good reasoner of a bad one, but might still be +occasionally useful if they did not invariably contradict each +other whenever there is any temptation to appeal to them. +They are like fire, good servants but bad masters. As many +people or more have been wrecked on principle as from want of +principle. They are, as their name implies, of an +elementary character, suitable for beginners only, and he who has +so little mastered them as to have occasion to refer to them +consciously, is out of place in the society of well-educated +people. The truly scientific invariably hate him, and, for +the most part, the more profoundly in proportion to the +unconsciousness with which they do so.</p> +<p><!-- page 86--><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +86</span>If the reader hesitates, let him go down into the +streets and look in the shop-windows at the photographs of +eminent men, whether literary, artistic, or scientific, and note +the work which the consciousness of knowledge has wrought on nine +out of every ten of them; then let him go to the masterpieces of +Greek and Italian art, the truest preachers of the truest gospel +of grace; let him look at the Venus of Milo, the Discobolus, the +St. George of Donatello. If it had pleased these people to +wish to study, there was no lack of brains to do it with; but +imagine “what a deal of scorn” would “look +beautiful in the contempt and anger” of the Venus of +Milo’s lip if it were suggested to her that she should +learn to read. Which, think you, knows most, the Theseus, +or any modern professor taken at random? True, learning +must have a great share in the advancement of beauty, inasmuch as +beauty is but knowledge perfected and incarnate—but with +the pioneers it is <i>sic vos non vobis</i>; the grace is not for +them, but for those who come after. Science is like +offences. It must needs come, but woe unto that man through +whom it comes; for there cannot be much beauty where there is +consciousness of knowledge, and while knowledge is still new it +must in the nature of things involve much consciousness.</p> +<p>It is not knowledge, then, that is incompatible with beauty; +there cannot be too much knowledge, but it must have passed +through many people who it is to be feared must be both ugly and +disagreeable, before beauty or grace will have anything to say to +it; it must be so diffused throughout a man’s whole being +that he shall not be aware of it, or he will bear himself under +it constrainedly as one under the law, and not as one under +grace.</p> +<p><!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +87</span>And grace is best, for where grace is, love is not +distant. Grace! the old Pagan ideal whose charm even +unlovely Paul could not withstand, but, as the legend tells us, +his soul fainted within him, his heart misgave him, and, standing +alone on the seashore at dusk, he “troubled deaf heaven +with his bootless cries,” his thin voice pleading for grace +after the flesh.</p> +<p>The waves came in one after another, the sea-gulls cried +together after their kind, the wind rustled among the dried canes +upon the sandbanks, and there came a voice from heaven saying, +“Let My grace be sufficient for thee.” Whereon, +failing of the thing itself, he stole the word and strove to +crush its meaning to the measure of his own limitations. +But the true grace, with her groves and high places, and troops +of young men and maidens crowned with flowers, and singing of +love and youth and wine—the true grace he drove out into +the wilderness—high up, it may be, into Piora, and into +such-like places. Happy they who harboured her in her ill +report.</p> +<p>It is common to hear men wonder what new faith will be adopted +by mankind if disbelief in the Christian religion should become +general. They seem to expect that some new theological or +quasi-theological system will arise, which, <i>mutatis +mutandis</i>, shall be Christianity over again. It is a +frequent reproach against those who maintain that the +supernatural element of Christianity is without foundation, that +they bring forward no such system of their own. They pull +down but cannot build. We sometimes hear even those who +have come to the same conclusions as the destroyers say, that +having nothing new to set up, they will not attack the old. +But how can people set up a new superstition, knowing it to be a +superstition? Without faith in <!-- page 88--><a +name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 88</span>their own +platform, a faith as intense as that manifested by the early +Christians, how can they preach? A new superstition will +come, but it is in the very essence of things that its apostles +should have no suspicion of its real nature; that they should no +more recognise the common element between the new and the old +than the early Christians recognised it between their faith and +Paganism. If they did, they would be paralysed. +Others say that the new fabric may be seen rising on every side, +and that the coming religion is science. Certainly its +apostles preach it without misgiving, but it is not on that +account less possible that it may prove only to be the coming +superstition—like Christianity, true to its true votaries, +and, like Christianity, false to those who follow it +introspectively.</p> +<p>It may well be we shall find we have escaped from one set of +taskmasters to fall into the hands of others far more +ruthless. The tyranny of the Church is light in comparison +with that which future generations may have to undergo at the +hands of the doctrinaires. The Church did uphold a grace of +some sort as the <i>summum bonum</i>, in comparison with which +all so-called earthly knowledge—knowledge, that is to say, +which had not passed through so many people as to have become +living and incarnate—was unimportant. Do what we may, +we are still drawn to the unspoken teaching of her less +introspective ages with a force which no falsehood could +command. Her buildings, her music, her architecture, touch +us as none other on the whole can do; when she speaks there are +many of us who think that she denies the deeper truths of her own +profounder mind, and unfortunately her tendency is now towards +more rather than less introspection. The more she gives way +to this—the more she becomes <!-- page 89--><a +name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>conscious of +knowing—the less she will know. But still her ideal +is in grace.</p> +<p>The so-called man of science, on the other hand, seems now +generally inclined to make light of all knowledge, save of the +pioneer character. His ideal is in self-conscious +knowledge. Let us have no more Lo, here, with the +professor; he very rarely knows what he says he knows; no sooner +has he misled the world for a sufficient time with a great +flourish of trumpets than he is toppled over by one more +plausible than himself. He is but medicine-man, augur, +priest, in its latest development; useful it may be, but +requiring to be well watched by those who value freedom. +Wait till he has become more powerful, and note the vagaries +which his conceit of knowledge will indulge in. The Church +did not persecute while she was still weak. Of course every +system has had, and will have, its heroes, but, as we all very +well know, the heroism of the hero is but remotely due to system; +it is due not to arguments, nor reasoning, nor to any consciously +recognised perceptions, but to those deeper sciences which lie +far beyond the reach of self-analysis, and for the study of which +there is but one schooling—to have had good forefathers for +many generations.</p> +<p>Above all things let no unwary reader do me the injustice of +believing in <i>me</i>. In that I write at all I am among +the damned. If he must believe in anything, let him believe +in the music of Handel, the painting of Giovanni Bellini, and in +the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul’s First Epistle to the +Corinthians.</p> +<p>But to return. Whenever we find people knowing that they +know this or that, we have the same story over and over +again. They do not yet know it perfectly.</p> +<p><!-- page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +90</span>We come, therefore, to the conclusion that our knowledge +and reasonings thereupon, only become perfect, assured, +unhesitating, when they have become automatic, and are thus +exercised without further conscious effort of the mind, much in +the same way as we cannot walk nor read nor write perfectly till +we can do so automatically.</p> +<h3><!-- page 91--><a name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +91</span>APPLICATION OF FOREGOING CHAPTERS TO CERTAIN HABITS +ACQUIRED AFTER BIRTH WHICH ARE COMMONLY CONSIDERED +INSTINCTIVE. (<span class="smcap">chapter iii. of life and +habit</span>.)</h3> +<p>What is true of knowing is also true of willing. The +more intensely we will, the less is our will deliberate and +capable of being recognised as will at all. So that it is +common to hear men declare under certain circumstances that they +had no will, but were forced into their own action under stress +of passion or temptation. But in the more ordinary actions +of life, we observe, as in walking or breathing, that we do not +will anything utterly and without remnant of hesitation, till we +have lost sight of the fact that we are exercising our will.</p> +<p>The question, therefore, is forced upon us, how far this +principle extends, and whether there may not be unheeded examples +of its operation which, if we consider them, will land us in +rather unexpected conclusions. If it be granted that +consciousness of knowledge and of volition vanishes when the +knowledge and the volition have become intense and perfect, may +it not be possible that many actions which we do without knowing +how we do them, and without any conscious exercise of the +will—actions which we certainly could <!-- page 92--><a +name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>not do if we +tried to do them, nor refrain from doing if for any reason we +wished to do so—are done so easily and so unconsciously +owing to excess of knowledge or experience rather than +deficiency, we having done them too often, knowing how to do them +too well, and having too little hesitation as to the method of +procedure, to be capable of following our own action, without the +derangement of such action altogether; or, in other cases, +because we have so long settled the question that we have stowed +away the whole apparatus with which we work in corners of our +system which we cannot now conveniently reach?</p> +<p>It may be interesting to see whether we can find any class or +classes of actions which link actions which for some time after +birth we could not do at all, and in which our proficiency has +reached the stage of unconscious performance obviously through +repeated effort and failure, and through this only, with actions +which we could do as soon as we were born, and concerning which +it would at first sight appear absurd to say that they can have +been acquired by any process in the least analogous to what we +commonly call experience, inasmuch as the creature itself which +does them has only just begun to exist, and cannot, therefore, in +the very nature of things, have had experience.</p> +<p>Can we see that actions, for the acquisition of which +experience is such an obvious necessity, that whenever we see the +acquisition we assume the experience, gradate away imperceptibly +into actions which seem, according to all reasonable analogy, to +necessitate experience—of which, however, the time and +place are so obscure, that they are not now commonly supposed to +have any connection with <i>bonâ fide</i> experience at +all.</p> +<p>Eating and drinking appear to be such actions. The <!-- +page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +93</span>new-born child cannot eat, and cannot drink, but he can +swallow as soon as he is born; and swallowing appears (as we may +remark in passing) to have been an earlier faculty of animal life +than that of eating with teeth. The ease and +unconsciousness with which we eat and drink is clearly +attributable to practice; but a very little practice seems to go +a long way—a suspiciously small amount of practice—as +though somewhere or at some other time there must have been more +practice than we can account for. We can very readily stop +eating or drinking, and can follow our own action without +difficulty in either process; but as regards swallowing, which is +the earlier habit, we have less power of self-analysis and +control: when we have once committed ourselves beyond a certain +point to swallowing, we must finish doing so,—that is to +say, our control over the operation ceases. Also, a still +smaller experience seems necessary for the acquisition of the +power to swallow than appeared necessary in the case of eating; +and if we get into a difficulty we choke, and are more at a loss +how to become introspective than we are about eating and +drinking.</p> +<p>Why should a baby be able to swallow—which one would +have said was the more complicated process of the two—with +so much less practice than it takes him to learn to eat? +How comes it that he exhibits in the case of the more difficult +operation all the phenomena which ordinarily accompany a more +complete mastery and longer practice? Analogy points in the +direction of thinking that the necessary experience cannot have +been wanting, and that, too, not in such a quibbling sort as when +people talk about inherited habit or the experience of the race, +which, without explanation, is to plain-speaking persons very +much the <!-- page 94--><a name="page94"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 94</span>same, in regard to the individual, as +no experience at all, but <i>bonâ fide</i> in the +child’s own person.</p> +<p>Breathing, again, is an action acquired after birth, generally +with some little hesitation and difficulty, but still acquired in +a time seldom longer, as I am informed, than ten minutes or a +quarter of an hour. For an art which has to be acquired at +all, there seems here, as in the case of eating, to be a +disproportion between, on the one hand, the intricacy of the +process performed, and on the other, the shortness of the time +taken to acquire the practice, and the ease and unconsciousness +with which its exercise is continued from the moment of +acquisition.</p> +<p>We observe that in later life much less difficult and +intricate operations than breathing require much longer practice +before they can be mastered to the extent of unconscious +performance. We observe also that the phenomena attendant +on the learning by an infant to breathe are extremely like those +attendant upon the repetition of some performance by one who has +done it very often before, but who requires just a little +prompting to set him off, on getting which, the whole familiar +routine presents itself before him, and he repeats his task by +rote. Surely then we are justified in suspecting that there +must have been more <i>bonâ fide</i> personal recollection +and experience, with more effort and failure on the part of the +infant itself, than meet the eye.</p> +<p>It should be noticed, also that our control over breathing is +very limited. We can hold our breath a little, or breathe a +little faster for a short time, but we cannot do this for long, +and after having gone without air for a certain time we must +breathe.</p> +<p>Seeing and hearing require some practice before their free use +is mastered, but not very much. They are so <!-- page +95--><a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 95</span>far +within our control that we can see more by looking harder, and +hear more by listening attentively—but they are beyond our +control in so far as that we must see and hear the greater part +of what presents itself to us as near, and at the same time +unfamiliar, unless we turn away or shut our eyes, or stop our +ears by a mechanical process; and when we do this it is a sign +that we have already involuntarily seen or heard more than we +wished. The familiar, whether sight or sound, very commonly +escapes us.</p> +<p>Take again the processes of digestion, the action of the +heart, and the oxygenisation of the blood—processes of +extreme intricacy, done almost entirely unconsciously, and quite +beyond the control of our volition.</p> +<p>Is it possible that our unconsciousness concerning our own +performance of all these processes arises from +over-experience?</p> +<p>Is there anything in digestion or the oxygenisation of the +blood different in kind to the rapid unconscious action of a man +playing a difficult piece of music on the piano? There may +be in degree, but as a man who sits down to play what he well +knows, plays on when once started, almost, as we say, +mechanically, so, having eaten his dinner, he digests it as a +matter of course, unless it has been in some way unfamiliar to +him or he to it, owing to some derangement or occurrence with +which he is unfamiliar, and under which therefore he is at a loss +how to comport himself, as a player would be at a loss how to +play with gloves on, or with gout in his fingers, or if set to +play music upside down.</p> +<p>Can we show that all the acquired actions of childhood and +after-life, which we now do unconsciously, or without conscious +exercise of the will, are familiar <!-- page 96--><a +name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +96</span>acts—acts which we have already done a very great +number of times?</p> +<p>Can we also show that there are no acquired actions which we +can perform in this automatic manner which were not at one time +difficult, requiring attention, and liable to repeated failure, +our volition failing to command obedience from the members which +should carry its purposes into execution?</p> +<p>If so, analogy will point in the direction of thinking that +other acts which we do even more unconsciously may only escape +our power of self-examination and control because they are even +more familiar—because we have done them oftener; and we may +imagine that if there were a microscope which could show us the +minutest atoms of consciousness and volition, we should find that +even the apparently most automatic actions were yet done in due +course, upon a balance of considerations, and under the +deliberate exercise of the will.</p> +<p>We should also incline to think that even such an action as +the oxygenisation of its blood by an infant of ten minutes’ +old, can only be done so well and so unconsciously, after +repeated failures on the part of the infant itself.</p> +<p>True, as has been already implied, we do not immediately see +when the baby could have made the necessary mistakes and acquired +that infinite practice without which it could never go through +such complex processes satisfactorily; we have therefore invented +the word “heredity,” and consider it as accounting +for the phenomena; but a little reflection will show that though +this word may be a very good way of stating the difficulty, it +does nothing whatever towards removing it. <a +name="citation96"></a><a href="#footnote96" +class="citation">[96]</a></p> +<p><!-- page 97--><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +97</span>Why should heredity enable a creature to dispense with +the experience which we see to be necessary in all other cases +before difficult operations can be performed successfully?</p> +<p>What is this talk that is made about the experience <i>of the +race</i>, as though the experience of one man could profit +another who knows nothing about him? If a man eats his +dinner, it nourishes <i>him</i> and not his neighbour; if he +learns a difficult art, it is <i>he</i> that can do it and not +his neighbour. Yet, practically, we see that the vicarious +experience, which seems so contrary to our common observation, +does nevertheless appear to hold good in the case of creatures +and their descendants. Is there, then, any way of bringing +these apparently conflicting phenomena under the operation of one +law? Is there any way of showing that this experience of +the race, of which so much is said without the least attempt to +show in what way it may or does become the experience of the +individual, is in sober seriousness the experience of one single +being only, repeating in a great many different ways certain +performances with which it has become exceedingly familiar?</p> +<p>It comes to this—that we must either suppose the +conditions of experience to differ during the earlier stages of +life from those which we observe them to become during the heyday +of any existence—and this would appear very gratuitous, +tolerable only as a suggestion because the beginnings of life are +so obscure, that in such twilight we may do pretty much whatever +we please without fear of being found out—or that we must +suppose continuity of life and sameness between living beings, +whether plants or animals, and their descendants, to be far +closer than we have hitherto believed; so that the experience of +one person is <!-- page 98--><a name="page98"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 98</span>not enjoyed by his successor, so much +as that the successor is <i>bonâ fide</i> an elongation of +the life of his progenitors, imbued with their memories, +profiting by their experiences—which are, in fact, his own +until he leaves their bodies—and only unconscious of the +extent of these memories and experiences owing to their vastness +and already infinite repetition.</p> +<p>Certainly it presents itself to us as a singular +coincidence—</p> +<p>I. That we are <i>most conscious of</i>, <i>and have +most control over</i>, such habits as speech, the upright +position, the arts and sciences—which are acquisitions +peculiar to the human race, always acquired after birth, and not +common to ourselves and any ancestor who had not become entirely +human.</p> +<p>II. That we are <i>less conscious of</i>, <i>and have +less control over</i>, the use of teeth, swallowing, breathing, +seeing and hearing—which were acquisitions of our prehuman +ancestry, and for which we had provided ourselves with all the +necessary apparatus before we saw light, but which are still, +geologically speaking, recent, or comparatively recent.</p> +<p>ill. That we are <i>most unconscious of</i>, <i>and have +least control over</i>, our digestion, which we have in common +even with our invertebrate ancestry, and which is a habit of +extreme antiquity.</p> +<p>There is something too like method in this for it to be taken +as the result of mere chance—chance again being but another +illustration of Nature’s love of a contradiction in terms; +for everything is chance, and nothing is chance. And you +may take it that all is chance or nothing chance, according as +you please, but you must not have half chance and half not +chance—which, however, in practice is just what you +<i>must</i> have.</p> +<p><!-- page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +99</span>Does it not seem as though the older and more confirmed +the habit, the more unquestioning the act of volition, till, in +the case of the oldest habits, the practice of succeeding +existences has so formulated the procedure, that, on being once +committed to such and such a line beyond a certain point, the +subsequent course is so clear as to be open to no further doubt, +and admit of no alternative, till the very power of questioning +is gone, and even the consciousness of volition? And this +too upon matters which, in earlier stages of a man’s +existence, admitted of passionate argument and anxious +deliberation whether to resolve them thus or thus, with heroic +hazard and experiment, which on the losing side proved to be +vice, and on the winning virtue. For there was passionate +argument once what shape a man’s teeth should be, nor can +the colour of his hair be considered as even yet settled, or +likely to be settled for a very long time.</p> +<p>It is one against legion when a creature tries to differ from +his own past selves. He must yield or die if he wants to +differ widely, so as to lack natural instincts, such as hunger or +thirst, or not to gratify them. It is more righteous in a +man that he should “eat strange food,” and that his +cheek should “so much as lank not,” than that he +should starve if the strange food be at his command. His +past selves are living in unruly hordes within him at this moment +and overmastering him. “Do this, this, this, which we +too have done, and found our profit in it,” cry the souls +of his forefathers within him. Faint are the far ones, +coming and going as the sound of bells wafted on to a high +mountain; loud and clear are the near ones, urgent as an alarm of +fire. “Withhold,” cry some. “Go on +boldly,” cry others. “Me, me, me, revert <!-- +page 100--><a name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +100</span>hitherward, my descendant,” shouts one as it were +from some high vantage-ground over the heads of the clamorous +multitude. “Nay, but me, me, me,” echoes +another; and our former selves fight within us and wrangle for +our possession. Have we not here what is commonly called an +<i>internal tumult</i>, when dead pleasures and pains tug within +us hither and thither? Then may the battle be decided by +what people are pleased to call our own experience. Our own +indeed! What is our own save by mere courtesy of +speech? A matter of fashion. Sanction sanctifieth and +fashion fashioneth. And so with death—the most +inexorable of all conventions.</p> +<p>However this may be, we may assume it as an axiom with regard +to actions acquired after birth, that we never do them +automatically save as the result of long practice, and after +having thus acquired perfect mastery over the action in +question.</p> +<p>But given the practice or experience, and the intricacy of the +process to be performed appears to matter very little. +There is hardly anything conceivable as being done by man, which +a certain amount of familiarity will not enable him to do, +unintrospectively, and without conscious effort. “The +most complex and difficult movements,” writes Mr. Darwin, +“can in time be performed without the least effort or +consciousness.” All the main business of life is done +thus unconsciously or semi-unconsciously. For what is the +main business of life? We work that we may eat and digest, +rather than eat and digest that we may work; this, at any rate, +is the normal state of things; the more important business then +is that which is carried on unconsciously. So again, the +action of the brain, which goes on prior to our realising the +idea in which it results, is not perceived <!-- page 101--><a +name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 101</span>by the +individual. So also all the deeper springs of action and +conviction. The residuum with which we fret and worry +ourselves is a mere matter of detail, as the higgling and +haggling of the market, which is not over the bulk of the price, +but over the last halfpenny.</p> +<p>Shall we say, then, that a baby of a day old sucks (which +involves the whole principle of the pump, and hence a profound +practical knowledge of the laws of pneumatics and hydrostatics), +digests, oxygenises its blood (millions of years before Sir +Humphry Davy discovered oxygen), sees and hears—all most +difficult and complicated operations, involving an unconscious +knowledge of the facts concerning optics and acoustics, compared +with which the conscious discoveries of Newton sink into utter +insignificance? Shall we say that a baby can do all these +things at once, doing them so well and so regularly, without +being even able to direct its attention to them, and without +mistake, and at the same time not know how to do them, and never +have done them before?</p> +<p>Such an assertion would be a contradiction to the whole +experience of mankind. Surely the <i>onus probandi</i> must +rest with him who makes it.</p> +<p>A man may make a lucky hit now and again by what is called a +fluke, but even this must be only a little in advance of his +other performances of the same kind. He may multiply seven +by eight by a fluke after a little study of the multiplication +table, but he will not be able to extract the cube root of 4913 +by a fluke, without long training in arithmetic, any more than an +agricultural labourer would be able to operate successfully for +cataract. If, then, a grown man cannot perform so simple an +operation as that, we will say, for <!-- page 102--><a +name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>cataract, +unless he have been long trained in other similar operations, and +until he has done what comes to the same thing many times over, +with what show of reason can we maintain that one who is so far +less capable than a grown man, can perform such vastly more +difficult operations, without knowing how to do them, and without +ever having done them before? There is no sign of +“fluke” about the circulation of a baby’s +blood. There may perhaps be some little hesitation about +its earliest breathing, but this, as a general rule, soon passes +over, both breathing and circulation, within an hour after birth, +being as regular and easy as at any time during life. Is it +reasonable, then, to say that the baby does these things without +knowing how to do them, and without ever having done them before, +and continues to do them by a series of lifelong flukes?</p> +<p>It would be well if those who feel inclined to hazard such an +assertion would find some other instances of intricate processes +gone through by people who know nothing about them, and who never +had any practice therein. What <i>is</i> to know how to do +a thing? Surely to do it. What is proof that we know +how to do a thing? Surely the fact that we can do it. +A man shows that he knows how to throw the boomerang by throwing +the boomerang. No amount of talking or writing can get over +this; <i>ipso facto</i>, that a baby breathes and makes its blood +circulate, it knows how to do so; and the fact that it does not +know its own knowledge is only proof of the perfection of that +knowledge, and of the vast number of past occasions on which it +must have been exercised already. As has been said already, +it is less obvious when the baby could have gained its +experience, so as to be able so readily to remember exactly what +to do; <i>but it is more </i><!-- page 103--><a +name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 103</span><i>easy to +suppose that the necessary occasions cannot have been +wanting</i>, <i>than that the power which we observe</i>, +<i>should have been obtained without practice and memory</i>.</p> +<p>If we saw any self-consciousness on the baby’s part +about its breathing or circulation, we might suspect that it had +had less experience, or had profited less by its experience, than +its neighbours—exactly in the same manner as we suspect a +deficiency of any quality which we see a man inclined to +parade. We all become introspective when we find that we do +not know our business, and whenever we are introspective we may +generally suspect that we are on the verge of +unproficiency. Unfortunately, in the case of sickly +children we observe that they sometimes do become conscious of +their breathing and circulation, just as in later life we become +conscious that we have a liver or a digestion. In that case +there is always something wrong. The baby that becomes +aware of its breathing does not know how to breathe and will +suffer for his ignorance and incapacity, exactly in the same way +as he will suffer in later life for ignorance and incapacity in +any other respect in which his peers are commonly knowing and +capable. In the case of inability to breathe, the +punishment is corporal, breathing being a matter of fashion, so +old and long settled that nature can admit of no departure from +the established custom, and the procedure in case of failure is +as much formulated as the fashion itself. In the case of +the circulation, the whole performance has become one so utterly +of rote, that the mere discovery that we could do it at all was +considered one of the highest flights of human genius.</p> +<p>It has been said a day will come when the Polar ice shall have +accumulated, till it forms vast continents many thousands of feet +above the level of the sea, all of <!-- page 104--><a +name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>solid +ice. The weight of this mass will, it is believed, cause +the world to topple over on its axis, so that the earth will be +upset as an ant-heap overturned by a ploughshare. In that +day the icebergs will come crunching against our proudest cities, +razing them from off the face of the earth as though they were +made of rotten blotting-paper. There is no respect now of +Handel nor of Shakespeare; the works of Rembrandt and Bellini +fossilise at the bottom of the sea. Grace, beauty, and wit, +all that is precious in music, literature, and art—all +gone. In the morning there was Europe. In the evening +there are no more populous cities nor busy hum of men, but a sea +of jagged ice, a lurid sunset, and the doom of many ages. +Then shall a scared remnant escape in places, and settle upon the +changed continent when the waters have subsided—a simple +people, busy hunting shellfish on the drying ocean beds, and with +little time for introspection; yet they can read and write and +sum, for by that time these accomplishments will have become +universal, and will be acquired as easily as we now learn to +talk; but they do so as a matter of course, and without +self-consciousness. Also they make the simpler kinds of +machinery too easily to be able to follow their own +operations—the manner of their own apprenticeship being to +them as a buried city. May we not imagine that, after the +lapse of another ten thousand years or so, some one of them may +again become cursed with lust of introspection, and a second +Harvey may astonish the world by discovering that it can read and +write, and that steam-engines do not grow, but are made? It +may be safely prophesied that he will die a martyr, and be +honoured in the fourth generation.</p> +<h3><!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 105</span>PERSONAL IDENTITY. (<span +class="smcap">chapter v. of life and habit</span>.)</h3> +<p>“Strange difficulties have been raised by some,” +says Bishop Butler, “concerning personal identity, or the +sameness of living agents as implied in the notion of our +existing now and hereafter, or indeed in any two consecutive +moments.” But in truth it is not easy to see the +strangeness of the difficulty, if the words either +“personal” or “identity” are used in any +strictness.</p> +<p>Personality is one of those ideas with which we are so +familiar that we have lost sight of the foundations upon which it +rests. We regard our personality as a simple definite +whole; as a plain, palpable, individual thing, which can be seen +going about the streets or sitting indoors at home; as something +which lasts us our lifetime, and about the confines of which no +doubt can exist in the minds of reasonable people. But in +truth this “we,” which looks so simple and definite, +is a nebulous and indefinable aggregation of many component parts +which war not a little among themselves, our perception of our +existence at all being perhaps due to this very clash of warfare, +as our sense of sound and light is due to the jarring of +vibrations. Moreover, as the component parts of our +identity change from moment to moment, our personality becomes a +thing <!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 106</span>dependent upon time present, which +has no logical existence, but lives only upon the sufferance of +times past and future, slipping out of our hands into the domain +of one or other of these two claimants the moment we try to +apprehend it. And not only is our personality as fleeting +as the present moment, but the parts which compose it blend some +of them so imperceptibly into, and are so inextricably linked on +to, outside things which clearly form no part of our personality, +that when we try to bring ourselves to book and determine wherein +we consist, or to draw a line as to where we begin or end, we +find ourselves baffled. There is nothing but fusion and +confusion.</p> +<p>Putting theology on one side, and dealing only with the common +sense of mankind, our body is certainly part of our +personality. With the destruction of our bodies, our +personality, as far as we can follow it, comes to a full stop; +and with every modification of them it is correspondingly +modified. But what are the limits of our bodies? They +are composed of parts, some of them so unessential as to be +hardly included in personality at all, and to be separable from +ourselves without perceptible effect, as hair, nails, and daily +waste of tissue. Again, other parts are very important, as +our hands, feet, arms, legs, &c., but still are no essential +parts of our “self” or “soul,” which +continues to exist, though in a modified condition, in spite of +their amputation. Other parts, as the brain, heart, and +blood, are so essential that they cannot be dispensed with, yet +it is impossible to say that personality consists in any one of +them.</p> +<p>Each one of these component members of our personality is +continually dying and being born again, supported in this process +by the food we eat, the water <!-- page 107--><a +name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 107</span>we drink, +and the air we breathe; which three things link us on, and fetter +us down, to the organic and inorganic world about us. For +our meat and drink, though no part of our personality before we +eat and drink, cannot, after we have done so, be separated +entirely from us without the destruction of our personality +altogether, so far as we can follow it; and who shall say at what +precise moment our food has or has not become part of +ourselves? A famished man eats food; after a short time his +whole personality is so palpably affected that we know the food +to have entered into him and taken, as it were, possession of +him; but who can say at what precise moment it did so? Thus +we find that we melt away into outside things and are rooted into +them as plants into the soil in which they grow, nor can any man +say he consists absolutely in this or that, nor define himself so +certainly as to include neither more nor less than himself; many +undoubted parts of his personality being more separable from it, +and changing it less when so separated, both to his own senses +and those of other people, than other parts which are strictly +speaking no parts at all.</p> +<p>A man’s clothes, for example, as they lie on a chair at +night are no part of him, but when he wears them they would +appear to be so, as being a kind of food which warms him and +hatches him, and the loss of which may kill him of cold. If +this be denied, and a man’s clothes be considered as no +part of his self, nevertheless they, with his money, and it may +perhaps be added his religious opinions, stamp a man’s +individuality as strongly as any natural feature can stamp +it. Change in style of dress, gain or loss of money, make a +man feel and appear more changed than having his chin shaved or +his nails cut. In fact, as soon as <!-- page 108--><a +name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 108</span>we leave +common parlance on one side, and try for a scientific definition +of personality, we find that there is none possible, any more +than there can be a demonstration of the fact that we exist at +all—a demonstration for which, as for that of a personal +God, many have hunted but which none have found. The only +solid foundation is, as in the case of the earth’s crust, +pretty near the surface of things; the deeper we try to go, the +damper, darker, and altogether more uncongenial we find it. +There is no quagmire of superstition into which we may not be +easily lured if we once cut ourselves adrift from those +superficial aspects of things, in which alone our nature permits +us to be comforted.</p> +<p>Common parlance, however, settles the difficulty readily +enough (as indeed it settles most others if they show signs of +awkwardness) by the simple process of ignoring it: we decline, +and very properly, to go into the question of where personality +begins and ends, but assume it to be known by every one, and +throw the onus of not knowing it upon the over-curious, who had +better think as their neighbours do, right or wrong, or there is +no knowing into what villany they may not presently fall.</p> +<p>Assuming, then, that every one knows what is meant by the word +“person” (and such superstitious bases as this are +the foundations upon which all action, whether of man, beast, or +plant, is constructed and rendered possible; for even the corn in +the fields grows upon a superstitious basis as to its own +existence, and only turns the earth and moisture into wheat +through the conceit of its own ability to do so, without which +faith it were powerless; and the lichen only grows upon the +granite rock by first saying to itself, “I think I can do +it;” so that it would not be able <!-- page 109--><a +name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>to grow +unless it thought it could grow, and would not think it could +grow unless it found itself able to grow, and thus spends its +life arguing most virtuously in a most vicious +circle—basing action upon hypothesis, which hypothesis is +in turn based upon action)—assuming that we know what is +meant by the word “person,” we say that we are one +and the same person from birth till death, so that whatever is +done by or happens to any one between birth and death, is said to +happen to or be done by one individual. This in practice is +found sufficient for the law courts and the purposes of daily +life, which, being full of hurry and the pressure of business, +can only tolerate compromise, or conventional rendering of +intricate phenomena. When facts of extreme complexity have +to be daily and hourly dealt with by people whose time is money, +they must be simplified, and treated much as a painter treats +them, drawing them in squarely, seizing the more important +features, and neglecting all that does not assert itself as too +essential to be passed over—hence the slang and cant words +of every profession, and indeed all language; for language at +best is but a kind of “patter,” the only way, it is +true, in many cases, of expressing our ideas to one another, but +still a very bad way, and not for one moment comparable to the +unspoken speech which we may sometimes have recourse to. +The metaphors and <i>façons de parler</i> to which even in +the plainest speech we are perpetually recurring (as, for +example, in this last two lines, “plain,” +“perpetually,” and “recurring,” are all +words based on metaphor, and hence more or less liable to +mislead) often deceive us, as though there were nothing more than +what we see and say, and as though words, instead of being, as +they are, the creatures of our convenience, had some claim to be +<!-- page 110--><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +110</span>the actual ideas themselves concerning which we are +conversing.</p> +<p>This is so well expressed in a letter I have recently received +from a friend, now in New Zealand, and certainly not intended by +him for publication, that I shall venture to quote the passage, +but should say that I do so without his knowledge or permission +which I should not be able to receive before this book must be +completed.</p> +<p>“Words, words, words,” he writes, “are the +stumbling-blocks in the way of truth. Until you think of +things as they are, and not of the words that misrepresent them, +you cannot think rightly. Words produce the appearance of +hard and fast lines where there are none. Words divide; +thus we call this a man, that an ape, that a monkey, while they +are all only differentiations of the same thing. To think +of a thing they must be got rid of: they are the clothes that +thoughts wear—only the clothes. I say this over and +over again, for there is nothing of more importance. Other +men’s words will stop you at the beginning of an +investigation. A man may play with words all his life, +arranging them and rearranging them like dominoes. If I +could <i>think</i> to you without words you would understand me +better.”</p> +<p>If such remarks as the above hold good at all, they do so with +the words “personal identity.” The least +reflection will show that personal identity in any sort of +strictness is an impossibility. The expression is one of +the many ways in which we are obliged to scamp our thoughts +through pressure of other business which pays us better. +For surely all reasonable people will feel that an infant an hour +before birth, when in the eye of the law he has no existence, and +could not be <!-- page 111--><a name="page111"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 111</span>called a peer for another sixty +minutes, though his father were a peer, and already +dead,—surely such an embryo is more personally identical +with the baby into which he develops within an hour’s time +than the born baby is so with itself (if the expression may be +pardoned), one, twenty, or it may be eighty years after +birth. There is more sameness of matter; there are fewer +differences of any kind perceptible by a third person; there is +more sense of continuity on the part of the person himself, and +far more of all that goes to make up our sense of sameness of +personality between an embryo an hour before birth and the child +on being born, than there is between the child just born and the +man of twenty. Yet there is no hesitation about admitting +sameness of personality between these two last.</p> +<p>On the other hand, if that hazy contradiction in terms, +“personal identity,” be once allowed to retreat +behind the threshold of the womb, it has eluded us once for +all. What is true of one hour before birth is true of two, +and so on till we get back to the impregnate ovum, which may +fairly claim to have been personally identical with the man of +eighty into which it ultimately developed, in spite of the fact +that there is no particle of same matter nor sense of continuity +between them, nor recognised community of instinct, nor indeed of +anything which on a <i>primâ facie</i> view of the matter +goes to the making up of that which we call identity.</p> +<p>There is far more of all these things common to the impregnate +ovum and the ovum immediately before impregnation, or again +between the impregnate ovum, and both the ovum before +impregnation and the spermatozoon which impregnated it. +Nor, if we admit <!-- page 112--><a name="page112"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 112</span>personal identity between the ovum +and the octogenarian, is there any sufficient reason why we +should not admit it between the impregnate ovum and the two +factors of which it is composed, which two factors are but +offshoots from two distinct personalities, of which they are as +much part as the apple is of the apple-tree; so that an +impregnate ovum cannot without a violation of first principles be +debarred from claiming personal identity with both its parents, +and hence, by an easy chain of reasoning, <i>with each of the +impregnate ova from which its parents were developed</i>.</p> +<p>So that each ovum when impregnate should be considered not as +descended from its ancestors, but as being a continuation of the +personality of every ovum in the chain of its ancestry, every +which ovum <i>it actually is</i> as truly as the octogenarian +<i>is</i> the same identity with the ovum from which he has been +developed. The two cases stand or fall together.</p> +<p>This process cannot stop short of the primordial cell, which +again will probably turn out to be but a brief +resting-place. We therefore prove each one of us to <i>be +actually</i> the primordial cell which never died nor dies, but +has differentiated itself into the life of the world, all living +beings whatever, being one with it, and members one of +another.</p> +<p>To look at the matter for a moment in another light, it will +be admitted that if the primordial cell had been killed before +leaving issue, all its possible descendants would have been +killed at one and the same time. It is hard to see how this +single fact does not establish at the point, as it were, of a +logical bayonet, an identity between any creature and all others +that are descended from it.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p><!-- page 113--><a name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +113</span>The fencing (for it does not deserve the name of +serious disputation) with which Bishop Butler meets his opponents +is rendered possible by the laxness with which the words +“identical” and “identity” are ordinarily +used. Bishop Butler would not seriously deny that +personality undergoes great changes between infancy and old age, +and hence that it must undergo some change from moment to +moment. So universally is this recognised, that it is +common to hear it said of such and such a man that he is not at +all the person he was, or of such and such another that he is +twice the man he used to be—expressions than which none +nearer the truth can well be found. On the other hand, +those whom Bishop Butler is intending to confute would be the +first to admit that, though there are many changes between +infancy and old age, yet they come about in any one individual +under such circumstances as we are all agreed in considering as +the factors of personal identity rather than as hindrances +thereto—that is to say that there has been no entire and +permanent death on the part of the individual between any two +phases of his existence, and that any one phase has had a lasting +though perhaps imperceptible effect upon all succeeding +ones. So that no one ever seriously argued in the manner +supposed by Bishop Butler, unless with modifications and saving +clauses, to which it does not suit his purpose to call +attention.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>No doubt it would be more strictly accurate to say “you +are the now phase of the person I met last night,” or +“you are the being which has been evolved from the being I +met last night,” than “you are the person I met last +night.” But life is too short for the periphrases +which would crowd upon us from every <!-- page 114--><a +name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 114</span>quarter, if +we did not set our face against all that is under the surface of +things, unless, that is to say, the going beneath the surface is, +for some special chance of profit, excusable or capable of +extenuation.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>Take again the case of some weeping trees, whose boughs spring +up into fresh trees when they have reached the ground, who shall +say at what time they cease to be members of the parent +tree? In the case of cuttings from plants it is easy to +elude the difficulty by making a parade of the sharp and sudden +act of separation from the parent stock, but this is only a piece +of mental sleight of hand; the cutting remains as much part of +its parent plant as though it had never been severed from it; it +goes on profiting by the experience which it had before it was +cut off, as much as though it had never been cut off at +all. This will be more readily seen in the case of worms +which have been cut in half. Let a worm be cut in half, and +the two halves will become fresh worms; which of them is the +original worm? Surely both. Perhaps no simpler cage +than this could readily be found of the manner in which +personality eludes us, the moment we try to investigate its real +nature. There are few ideas which on first consideration +appear so simple, and none which becomes more utterly incapable +of limitation or definition as soon as it is examined +closely.</p> +<p>It has gone the way of species. It is now generally held +that species blend or have blended into one another; so that any +possibility of arrangement and apparent subdivision into definite +groups, is due to the suppression by death both of individuals +and whole genera, which, had they been now existing, would have +linked all living beings by a series of gradations so subtle that +<!-- page 115--><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +115</span>little classification could have been attempted. +What we have failed to see is that the individual is as much +linked onto other individuals as the species is linked on to +other species. How it is that the one great personality of +life as a whole, should have split itself up into so many centres +of thought and action, each one of which is wholly, or at any +rate nearly unconscious of its connection with the other members, +instead of having grown up into a huge polyp, or as it were coral +reef or compound animal over the whole world, which should be +conscious but of its own one single existence; how it is that the +daily waste of this creature should be carried on by the +conscious death of its individual members, instead of by the +unconscious waste of tissue which goes on in the bodies of each +individual (if indeed the tissue which we waste daily in our own +bodies is so unconscious of its birth and death as we suppose); +how, again, that the daily repair of this huge creature life +should have become decentralised, and be carried on by conscious +reproduction on the part of its component items, instead of by +the unconscious nutrition of the whole from a single centre, as +the nutrition of our own bodies would appear (though perhaps +falsely) to be carried on; these are matters upon which I dare +not speculate here, but on which some reflections may follow in +subsequent chapters.</p> +<h3><!-- page 116--><a name="page116"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 116</span>INSTINCT AS INHERITED MEMORY. +(<span class="smcap">chapter xi. of life and habit</span>.)</h3> +<p>Obviously the memory of a habit or experience will not +commonly be transmitted to offspring in that perfection which is +called “instinct,” till the habit or experience has +been repeated in several generations with more or less +uniformity; for otherwise the impression made will not be strong +enough to endure through the busy and difficult task of +reproduction. This of course involves that the habit shall +have attained, as it were, equilibrium with the creature’s +sense of its own needs, so that it shall have long seemed the +best course possible, leaving upon the whole and under ordinary +circumstances little further to be desired, and hence that it +should have been little varied during many generations. We +should expect that it would be transmitted in a more or less +partial, varying, imperfect, and intelligent condition before +equilibrium had been attained; it would, however, continually +tend towards equilibrium.</p> +<p>When this stage has been reached, as regards any habit, the +creature will cease trying to improve; on which the repetition of +the habit will become stable, and hence capable of more unerring +transmission—but at the same time improvement will cease; +the habit will become fixed, and be perhaps transmitted at <!-- +page 117--><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>an earlier and earlier age, till it has reached that +date of manifestation which shall be found most agreeable to the +other habits of the creature. It will also be manifested, +as a matter of course, without further consciousness or +reflection, for people cannot be always opening up settled +questions; if they thought a matter all over yesterday they +cannot think it all over again to-day, what they thought then +they will think now, and will act upon their opinion; and this, +too, even in spite sometimes of misgiving, that if they were to +think still further they could find a still better course. +It is not, therefore, to be expected that “instinct” +should show signs of that hesitating and tentative action which +results from knowledge that is still so imperfect as to be +actively self-conscious; nor yet that it should grow or vary +perceptibly unless under such changed conditions as shall baffle +memory, and present the alternative of either +invention—that is to say, variation—or death.</p> +<p>But every instinct must have passed through the laboriously +intelligent stages through which human civilisations <i>and +mechanical inventions</i> are now passing; and he who would study +the origin of an instinct with its development, partial +transmission, further growth, further transmission, approach to +more unreflecting stability, and finally, its perfection as an +unerring and unerringly transmitted instinct, must look to laws, +customs, <i>and machinery</i> as his best instructors. +Customs and machines are instincts <i>and organs</i> now in +process of development; they will assuredly one day reach the +unconscious state of equilibrium which we observe in the +structures and instincts of bees and ants, and an approach to +which may be found among some savage nations. We may +reflect, however, not without pleasure, <!-- page 118--><a +name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 118</span>that this +condition—the true millennium—is still distant. +Nevertheless the ants and bees seem happy; perhaps more happy +than when so many social questions were in as hot discussion +among them as other and not dissimilar ones will one day be +amongst ourselves.</p> +<p>And this, as will be apparent, opens up the whole question of +the stability of species, which we cannot follow further here, +than to say, that according to the balance of testimony, many +plants and animals do appear to have reached a phase of being +from which they are hard to move—that is to say, they will +die sooner than be at the pains of altering their +habits—true martyrs to their convictions. Such races +refuse to see changes in their surroundings as long as they can, +but when compelled to recognise them, they throw up the game +because they cannot and will not, or will not and cannot, +invent.</p> +<p>This is perfectly intelligible, for a race is nothing but a +long-lived individual, and like any individual, or tribe of men +whom we have yet observed, will have its special capacities and +its special limitations, though, as in the case of the +individual, so also with the race, it is exceedingly hard to say +what those limitations are, and why, having been able to go so +far, it should go no further. Every man and every race is +capable of education up to a certain point, but not to the extent +of being made from a sow’s ear into a silk purse. The +proximate cause of the limitation seems to lie in the absence of +the wish to go further; the presence or absence of the wish will +depend upon the nature and surroundings of the individual, which +is simply a way of saying that one can get no further, but that +as the song (with a slight alteration) says:—</p> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 119--><a name="page119"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 119</span>“Some breeds do, and some +breeds don’t,<br /> +Some breeds will, but this breed won’t:<br /> +I tried very often to see if it would,<br /> +But it said it really couldn’t, and I don’t think it +could.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>M. Ribot in his work on Heredity <a name="citation119"></a><a +href="#footnote119" class="citation">[119]</a> writes (p. +14):—“The duckling hatched by the hen makes straight +for water.” In what conceivable way can we account +for this, except on the supposition that the duckling knows +perfectly well what it can and what it cannot do with water, +owing to its recollection of what it did when it was still one +individuality with its parents, and hence, when it was a duckling +before?</p> +<p>“The squirrel, before it knows anything of winter, lays +up a store of nuts. A bird when hatched in a cage will, +when given its freedom, build for itself a nest like that of its +parents, out of the same materials, and of the same +shape.”</p> +<p>If this is not due to memory, “even an imperfect” +explanation of what else it can be due to, “would,” +to quote from Mr. Darwin, “be satisfactory.”</p> +<p>“Intelligence gropes about, tries this way and that, +misses its object, commits mistakes, and corrects +them.”</p> +<p>Yes. Because intelligence is of consciousness, and +consciousness is of attention, and attention is of uncertainty, +and uncertainty is of ignorance or want of consciousness. +Intelligence is not yet thoroughly up to its business.</p> +<p>“Instinct advances with a mechanical certainty, hence +comes its unconscious character. It knows nothing either of +ends, or of the means of attaining them: it implies no +comparison, judgment, or choice.”</p> +<p>This is assumption. What is certain is that instinct +does not betray signs of self-consciousness as to its own <!-- +page 120--><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +120</span>knowledge. It has dismissed reference to first +principles, and is no longer under the law, but under the grace +of a settled conviction.</p> +<p>“All seems directed by thought.”</p> +<p>Yes; because all <i>has been</i> in earlier existences +directed by thought.</p> +<p>“Without ever arriving at thought.”</p> +<p>Because it has <i>got past thought</i>, and though +“directed by thought” originally, is now travelling +in exactly the opposite direction. It is not likely to +reach thought again, till people get to know worse and worse how +to do things, the oftener they practise them.</p> +<p>“And if this phenomenon appear strange, it must be +observed that analogous states occur in ourselves. <i>All +that we do from habit</i>—<i>walking</i>, <i>writing</i>, +<i>or practising a mechanical act</i>, <i>for +instance</i>—<i>all these and many other very complex acts +are performed without consciousness</i>.</p> +<p>“Instinct appears stationary. It does not, like +intelligence, seem to grow and decay, to gain and to lose. +It does not improve.”</p> +<p>Naturally. For improvement can only as a general rule be +looked for along the line of latest development, that is to say, +in matters concerning which the creature is being still +consciously exercised. Older questions are settled, and the +solution must be accepted as final, for the question of living at +all would be reduced to an absurdity, if everything decided upon +one day was to be undecided again the next; as with painting or +music, so with life and politics, let every man be fully +persuaded in his own mind, for decision with wrong will be +commonly a better policy than indecision—I had almost added +with right; and a firm purpose with risk will be better than an +infirm one with temporary <!-- page 121--><a +name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>exemption +from disaster. Every race has made its great blunders, to +which it has nevertheless adhered, inasmuch as the corresponding +modification of other structures and instincts was found +preferable to the revolution which would be caused by a radical +change of structure, with consequent havoc among a legion of +vested interests. Rudimentary organs are, as has been often +said, the survivals of these interests—the signs of their +peaceful and gradual extinction as living faiths; they are also +instances of the difficulty of breaking through any cant or trick +which we have long practised, and which is not sufficiently +troublesome to make it a serious object with us to cure ourselves +of the habit.</p> +<p>“If it does not remain perfectly invariable, at least it +only varies within very narrow limits; and though this question +has been warmly debated in our day and is yet unsettled, we may +yet say that in instinct immutability is the law, variation the +exception.”</p> +<p>This is quite as it should be. Genius will occasionally +rise a little above convention, but with an old convention +immutability will be the rule.</p> +<p>“Such,” continues M. Ribot, “are the +admitted characters of instinct.”</p> +<p>Yes; but are they not also the admitted characters of habitual +actions that are due to memory?</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>M. Ribot says a little further on: “Originally man had +considerable trouble in taming the animals which are now +domesticated; and his work would have been in vain had not +heredity” (memory) “come to his aid. It may be +said that after man has modified a wild animal to his will, there +goes on in its progeny a silent conflict between two +heredities” (memories), “the one tending to fix the +acquired modifications and the other <!-- page 122--><a +name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 122</span>to preserve +the primitive instincts. The latter often get the mastery, +and only after several generations is training sure of +victory. But we may see that in either case heredity” +(memory) “always asserts its rights.”</p> +<p>How marvellously is the above passage elucidated and made to +fit in with the results of our recognised experience, by the +simple substitution of the word “memory” for +heredity.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>I cannot refrain from bringing forward a few more instances of +what I think must be considered by every reader as hereditary +memory. Sydney Smith writes:—</p> +<p>“Sir James Hall hatched some chickens in an oven. +Within a few minutes after the shell was broken, a spider was +turned loose before this very youthful brood; the destroyer of +flies had hardly proceeded more than a few inches, before he was +descried by one of these oven-born chickens, and, at one peck of +his bill, immediately devoured. This certainly was not +imitation. A female goat very near delivery died; Galen cut +out the young kid, and placed before it a bundle of hay, a bunch +of fruit, and a pan of milk; the young kid smelt to them all very +attentively, and then began to lap the milk. This was not +imitation. And what is commonly and rightly called +instinct, cannot be explained away under the notion of its being +imitation.” (Lecture xvii. on Moral Philosophy.)</p> +<p>It cannot, indeed, be explained away under the notion of its +being imitation, but I think it may well be so under that of its +being memory.</p> +<p>Again, a little further on in the same lecture as that above +quoted from, we find:—</p> +<p><!-- page 123--><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +123</span>“Ants and beavers lay up magazines. Where +do they get their knowledge that it will not be so easy to +collect food in rainy weather as it is in summer? Men and +women know these things, because their grandpapas and grandmammas +have told them so. Ants hatched from the egg artificially, +or birds hatched in this manner, have all this knowledge by +intuition, without the smallest communication with any of their +relations. Now observe what the solitary wasp does; she +digs several holes in the sand, in each of which she deposits an +egg, though she certainly knows not (?) that an animal is +deposited in that egg, and still less that this animal must be +nourished with other animals. She collects a few green +flies, rolls them up neatly in several parcels (like Bologna +sausages), and stuffs one parcel into each hole where an egg is +deposited. When the wasp worm is hatched, it finds a store +of provision ready made; and what is most curious, the quantity +allotted to each is exactly sufficient to support it, till it +attains the period of wasphood, and can provide for itself. +This instinct of the parent wasp is the more remarkable as it +does not feed upon flesh itself. Here the little creature +has never seen its parent; for by the time it is born, the parent +is always eaten by sparrows; and yet, without the slightest +education, or previous experience, it does everything that the +parent did before it. Now the objectors to the doctrine of +instinct may say what they please, but young tailors have no +intuitive method of making pantaloons; a new-born mercer cannot +measure diaper; nature teaches a cook’s daughter nothing +about sippets. All these things require with us seven +years’ apprenticeship; but insects are like +Molière’s persons of quality—they know +everything (as Molière says) without having learnt +anything. <!-- page 124--><a name="page124"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 124</span>‘Les gens de qualité +savent tout, sans avoir rien appris.’”</p> +<p>How completely all difficulty vanishes from the facts so +pleasantly told in this passage when we bear in mind the true +nature of personal identity, the ordinary working of memory, and +the vanishing tendency of consciousness concerning what we know +exceedingly well.</p> +<p>My last instance I take from M. Ribot, who +writes:—“Gratiolet, in his <i>Anatomie +Comparée du Systèms Nerveux</i>, states that an old +piece of wolf’s skin, with the hair all worn away, when set +before a little dog, threw the animal into convulsions of fear by +the slight scent attaching to it. The dog had never seen a +wolf, and we can only explain this alarm by the hereditary +transmission of certain sentiments, coupled with a certain +perception of the sense of smell.” +(“Heredity,” p. 43.)</p> +<p>I should prefer to say “we can only explain the alarm by +supposing that the smell of the wolf’s +skin”—the sense of smell being, as we all know, more +powerful to recall the ideas that have been associated with it +than any other sense—“brought up the ideas with which +it had been associated in the dog’s mind during many +previous existences”—he on smelling the wolf’s +skin remembering all about wolves perfectly well.</p> +<h3><!-- page 125--><a name="page125"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 125</span>CONCLUDING REMARKS. (<span +class="smcap">from chapter xv. of life and habit</span>.)</h3> +<p>Here, then, I leave my case, though well aware that I have +crossed the threshold only of my subject. My work is of a +tentative character, put before the public as a sketch or design +for a, possibly, further endeavour, in which I hope to derive +assistance from the criticisms which this present volume may +elicit. <a name="citation125"></a><a href="#footnote125" +class="citation">[125]</a> Such as it is, however, for the +present I must leave it.</p> +<p>We have seen that we cannot do anything thoroughly till we can +do it unconsciously, and that we cannot do anything unconsciously +till we can do it thoroughly; this at first seems illogical; but +logic and consistency are luxuries for the gods, and the lower +animals, only. Thus a boy cannot really know how to swim +till he can swim, but he cannot swim till he knows how to +swim. Conscious effort is but the process of rubbing off +the rough corners from these two contradictory statements, till +they eventually fit into one another so closely that it is +impossible to disjoin them.</p> +<p>Whenever we see any creature able to go through any +complicated and difficult process with little or no +effort—whether it be a bird building her nest, or a <!-- +page 126--><a name="page126"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +126</span>hen’s egg making itself into a chicken, or an +ovum turning itself into a baby—we may conclude that the +creature has done the same thing on a very great number of past +occasions.</p> +<p>We found the phenomena exhibited by heredity to be so like +those of memory, and to be so inexplicable on any other +supposition than that they were modes of memory, that it was +easier to suppose them due to memory in spite of the fact that we +cannot remember having recollected, than to believe that because +we cannot so remember, therefore the phenomena cannot be due to +memory.</p> +<p>We were thus led to consider “personal identity,” +in order to see whether there was sufficient reason for denying +that the experience, which we must have clearly gained somewhere, +was gained by us when we were in the persons of our forefathers; +we found, not without surprise, that unless we admitted that it +might be so gained, in so far as that we once <i>actually +were</i> our remotest ancestor, we must change our ideas +concerning personality altogether.</p> +<p>We therefore assumed that the phenomena of heredity, whether +as regards instinct or structure, were due to memory of past +experiences, accumulated and fused till they had become +automatic, or quasi automatic, much in the same way as after a +long life—</p> +<blockquote><p>. . . “Old experience doth attain<br /> +To something like prophetic strain.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>After dealing with certain phenomena of memory, but more +especially with its abeyance and revival, we inquired what the +principal corresponding phenomena of life and species should be, +on the hypothesis that they were mainly due to memory.</p> +<p>I think I may say that we found the hypothesis fit <!-- page +127--><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 127</span>in +with actual facts in a sufficiently satisfactory manner. We +found not a few matters, as, for example, the sterility of +hybrids, the principle underlying longevity, the phenomena of old +age, and puberty as generally near the end of development, +explain themselves with more completeness than I have yet heard +of their being explained on any other hypothesis. Most +indeed of these phenomena have been left hitherto without even an +attempt at an explanation.</p> +<p>We considered the most important difficulty in the way of +instinct as hereditary habit, namely, the structure and instincts +of neuter insects; these are very unlike those of their parents, +and cannot, apparently, be transmitted to offspring by +individuals of the previous generation, in whom such structure +and instincts appeared, inasmuch as these creatures are +sterile. I do not say that the difficulty is wholly +removed, inasmuch as some obscurity must be admitted to remain as +to the manner in which the structure of the larva is aborted; +this obscurity is likely to remain till we know more of the early +history of civilisation among bees than I can find that we know +at present; but I believe the difficulty was reduced to such +proportions as to make it little likely to be felt in comparison +with that of attributing instinct to any other cause than +inherited habit, or memory on the part of offspring, of habits +contracted in the persons of its ancestors. <a +name="citation127"></a><a href="#footnote127" +class="citation">[127]</a></p> +<p><!-- page 128--><a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +128</span>We then inquired what was the great principle +underlying variation, and answered, with Lamarck, that it must be +“sense of need;” and though not without being haunted +by suspicion of a vicious circle, and also well aware that we +were not much nearer the origin of life than when we started, we +still concluded that here was the truest origin of species, and +hence of genera; and that the accumulation of variations, which +in time amounted to specific and generic differences, was due to +intelligence and memory on the part of the creature varying, +rather than to the operation of what Mr. Darwin has called +“natural selection.” At the same time we +admitted that the course of nature is very much as Mr. Darwin has +represented it, in this respect, in so far as that there is a +struggle for existence, and that the weaker must go to the +wall. But we denied that this part of the course of nature +would lead to much, if any, accumulation of variation, unless the +variation was directed mainly by intelligent sense of need, with +continued personality and memory.</p> +<p>We conclude, therefore, that the small, apparently +structureless, impregnate ovum from which we have each one of us +sprung, has a potential recollection of all that has happened to +each one of its ancestors prior to the period at which any such +ancestor has issued from the bodies of its +progenitors—provided, that is to say, a sufficiently deep, +or sufficiently often-repeated, impression has been made to admit +of its being remembered at all.</p> +<p>Each step of normal development will lead the impregnate ovum +up to, and remind it of, its next ordinary course of action, in +the same way as we, when we recite a well-known passage, are led +up to each successive <!-- page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 129</span>sentence by the sentence which has +immediately preceded it.</p> +<p>And for this reason, namely, that as it takes two people +“to tell” a thing—a speaker and a comprehending +listener, without which last, though much may have been said, +there has been nothing told—so also it takes two people, as +it were, to “remember” a thing—the creature +remembering, and the surroundings of the creature at the time it +last remembered. Hence, though the ovum immediately after +impregnation is instinct with all the memories of both parents, +not one of these memories can normally become active till both +the ovum itself, and its surroundings, are sufficiently like what +they respectively were, when the occurrence now to be remembered +last took place. The memory will then immediately return, +and the creature will do as it did on the last occasion that it +was in like case as now. This ensures that similarity of +order shall be preserved in all the stages of development in +successive generations.</p> +<p>Life then is the being possessed of memory. We are all +the same stuff to start with; plants and animals only differ from +one another because they remember different things; they grow up +in the shapes they bear because these shapes are the embodiments +of their ideas concerning their own past history; they are forms +of faith or faiths of form whichever the reader chooses.</p> +<p>Hence the term “Natural History,” as applied to +the different plants and animals around us. For surely the +study of natural history means only the study of plants and +animals themselves, which, at the moment of using the words +“Natural History,” we assume to be the most important +part of nature.</p> +<p>A living creature well supported by a mass of healthy +ancestral memory is a young and growing creature, free <!-- page +130--><a name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +130</span>from ache or pain, and thoroughly acquainted with its +business so far, but with much yet to be reminded of. A +creature which finds itself and its surroundings not so unlike +those of its parents about the time of their begetting it, as to +be compelled to recognise that it never yet was in any such +position, is a creature in the heyday of life. A creature +which begins to be aware of itself is one which is beginning to +recognise that the situation is a new one.</p> +<p>It is the young and fair, then, who are the truly old and +truly experienced; it is they who alone have a trustworthy memory +to guide them; they alone know things as they are, and it is from +them that, as we grow older, we must study if we would still +cling to truth. The whole charm of youth lies in its +advantage over age in respect of experience, and where this has +for some reason failed, or been misapplied, the charm is +broken. When we say that we are getting old, we should say +rather that we are getting new or young, and are suffering from +inexperience, which drives us into doing things which we do not +understand, and lands us, eventually, in the utter impotence of +death. The kingdom of heaven is the kingdom of little +children.</p> +<h2><!-- page 131--><a name="page131"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 131</span>SELECTIONS FROM EVOLUTION, OLD AND +NEW. <a name="citation131"></a><a href="#footnote131" +class="citation">[131]</a></h2> +<h3>IMPOTENCE OF PALEY’S CONCLUSION. THE TELEOLOGY OF +THE EVOLUTIONIST. (<span class="smcap">from chapter iii. of +evolution</span>, <span class="smcap">old and new</span>.)</h3> +<p>If we conceive of ourselves as looking simultaneously upon a +real foot, and upon an admirably constructed artificial one, +placed by the side of it, the idea of design, and design by an +intelligent living being with a body and soul (without which, the +use of the word design is delusive), will present itself strongly +to our minds in connection both with the true foot and with the +model; but we find another idea asserting itself with even +greater strength, namely, that the design of the true foot is +infinitely more intricate, and yet is carried into execution in +far more masterly manner than that of the model. We not +only feel that there is a wider difference between the ability, +time, and care which have been lavished on the real foot and upon +the model, than there is between the skill and the time taken to +produce Westminster Abbey, and that bestowed upon a gingerbread +cake stuck with sugar plums so as to represent it, but also that +these two objects must have been manufactured on different +principles. We do not for a moment doubt that the real foot +was designed, but we are so astonished at the dexterity of <!-- +page 132--><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>the designer that we are at a loss for some time to +think who could have designed it, where he can live, in what +manner he studied, for how long, and by what processes he carried +out his design, when matured, into actual practice. Until +recently it was thought that there was no answer to many of these +questions, more especially to those which bear upon the mode of +manufacture. For the last hundred years, however, the +importance of a study has been recognised which does actually +reveal to us in no small degree the processes by which the human +foot is manufactured, so that in our endeavour to lay our hands +upon the points of difference between the kind of design with +which the foot itself is designed, and the design of the model, +we turn naturally to the guidance of those who have made this +study their specialty; and a very wide difference does this +study, embryology, at once reveal to us.</p> +<p>Writing of the successive changes through which each embryo is +forced to pass, the late Mr. G. H. Lewes says that “none of +these phases have any adaptation to the future state of the +animal, but are in positive contradiction to it or are simply +purposeless; whereas all show stamped on them the unmistakable +characters of <i>ancestral</i> adaptation, and the progressions +of organic evolution. What does the fact imply? There +is not a single known example of a complex organism which is not +developed out of simpler forms. Before it can attain the +complex structure which distinguishes it, there must be an +evolution of forms similar to those which distinguish the +structure of organisms lower in the series. On the +hypothesis of a plan which prearranged the organic world, nothing +could be more unworthy of a supreme intelligence than this +inability to construct an organism at once, without making +several <!-- page 133--><a name="page133"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 133</span>previous tentative efforts, undoing +to-day what was so carefully done yesterday, and <i>repeating for +centuries the same tentatives in the same succession</i>. +Do not let us blink this consideration. There is a +traditional phrase much in vogue among the anthropomorphists, +which arose naturally enough from a tendency to take human +methods as an explanation of the Divine—a phrase which +becomes a sort of argument—‘The Great +Architect.’ But if we are to admit the human point of +view, a glance at the facts of embryology must produce very +uncomfortable reflections. For what should we say to an +architect who was unable, or being able was obstinately +unwilling, to erect a palace except by first using his materials +in the shape of a hut, then pulling them down and rebuilding them +as a cottage, then adding story to story and room to room, +<i>not</i> with any reference to the ultimate purposes of the +palace, but wholly with reference to the way in which houses were +constructed in ancient times? What should we say to the +architect who could not form a museum out of bricks and mortar, +but was forced to begin as if going to construct a mansion, and +after proceeding some way in this direction, altered his plan +into a palace, and that again into a museum? Yet this is +the sort of succession on which organisms are constructed. +The fact has long been familiar; how has it been reconciled with +infinite wisdom? Let the following passage answer for a +thousand:—‘The embryo is nothing like the miniature +of the adult. For a long while the body in its entirety and +in its details, presents the strangest of spectacles. Day +by day and hour by hour, the aspect of the scene changes, and +this instability is exhibited by the most essential parts no less +than by the accessory parts. One would say that nature +feels her <!-- page 134--><a name="page134"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 134</span>way, and only reaches the goal after +many times missing the path’ (on dirait que la nature +tâtonne et ne conduit son œuvre à bon fin, +qu’après s’être souvent +trompée).” <a name="citation134a"></a><a +href="#footnote134a" class="citation">[134a]</a></p> +<p>The above passage does not, I think, affect the evidence for +design which we adduced in the preceding chapter. <a +name="citation134b"></a><a href="#footnote134b" +class="citation">[134b]</a> However strange the process of +manufacture may appear, when the work comes to be turned out the +design is too manifest to be doubted.</p> +<p>If the reader were to come upon some lawyer’s deed which +dealt with matters of such unspeakable intricacy that it baffled +his imagination to conceive how it could ever have been drafted, +and if in spite of this he were to find the intricacy of the +provisions to be made, exceeded only by the ease and simplicity +with which the deed providing for them was found to work in +practice; and after this, if he were to discover that the deed, +by whomsoever drawn, had nevertheless been drafted upon +principles which at first seemed very foreign to any according to +which he was in the habit of drafting deeds himself, as for +example, that the draftsman had begun to draft a will as a +marriage settlement, and so forth—yet an observer would +not, I take it, do either of two things. He would not in +the face of the result deny the design, making himself judge +rather of the method of procedure than of the achievement. +Nor yet after insisting in the manner of Paley, on the wonderful +proofs of intention and on the exquisite provisions which were to +be found in every syllable—thus leading us up to the +highest pitch of expectation—<!-- page 135--><a +name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 135</span>would he +present us with such an impotent conclusion as that the designer, +though a living person and a true designer, was yet immaterial +and intangible, a something, in fact, which proves to be a +nothing; an omniscient and omnipotent vacuum.</p> +<p>Our observer would feel he need not have been at such pains to +establish his design if this was to be the upshot of his +reasoning. He would therefore admit the design, and by +consequence the designer, but would probably ask a little time +for reflection before he ventured to say who, or what, or where +the designer was. Then gaining some insight into the manner +in which the deed had been drawn, he would conclude that the +draftsman was a specialist who had had long practice in this +particular kind of work, but who now worked almost as it might be +said automatically and without consciousness, and found it +difficult to depart from a habitual method of procedure.</p> +<p>We turn, then, on Paley, and say to him: “We have +admitted your design and your designer. Where is he? +Show him to us. If you cannot show him to us as flesh and +blood, show him as flesh and sap; show him as a living cell; show +him as protoplasm. Lower than this we should not fairly go; +it is not in the bond or <i>nexus</i> of our ideas that something +utterly inanimate and inorganic should scheme, design, contrive, +and elaborate structures which can make mistakes: it may +elaborate low unerring things, like crystals, but it cannot +elaborate those which have the power to err. Nevertheless, +we will commit such abuse with our understandings as to waive +this point, and we will ask you to show him to us as air which, +if it cannot be seen yet can be felt, weighed, handled, +transferred from place to place, be judged by its effects, and so +forth; or <!-- page 136--><a name="page136"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 136</span>if this may not be, give us half a +grain of hydrogen, diffused through all space and invested with +some of the minor attributes of matter; or if you cannot do this, +give us an imponderable like electricity, or even the higher +mathematics, but give us something or throw off the mask and tell +us fairly out that it is your paid profession to hoodwink us on +this matter if you can, and that you are but doing your best to +earn an honest living.”</p> +<p>We may fancy Paley as turning the tables upon us and as +saying; “But you too have admitted a designer—you too +then must mean a designer with a body and soul, who must be +somewhere to be found in space, and who must live in time. +Where is this your designer? Can you show him more than I +can? Can you lay your finger on him and demonstrate him so +that a child shall see him and know him, and find what was +heretofore an isolated idea concerning him, combine itself +instantaneously with the idea of the designer, we will say, of +the human foot, so that no power on earth shall henceforth tear +those two ideas asunder? Surely if you cannot do this, you +too are trifling with words, and abusing your own mind and that +of your reader. Where, then, is your designer of man? +Who made him? And where, again, is your designer of beasts +and birds, of fishes and of plants?”</p> +<p>Our answer is simple enough; it is that we can and do point to +a living tangible person with flesh, blood, eyes, nose, ears, +organs, senses, dimensions, who did of his own cunning after +infinite proof of every kind of hazard and experiment scheme out +and fashion each organ of the human body. This is the +person whom we claim as the designer and artificer of that body, +and he is the one of all others the best fitted for the task <!-- +page 137--><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>by his antecedents, and his practical knowledge of the +requirements of the case—for he is man himself.</p> +<p>Not man, the individual of any given generation, but man in +the entirety of his existence from the dawn of life onwards to +the present moment. In like manner we say that the designer +of all organisms is so incorporate with the organisms +themselves—so lives, moves, and has its being in those +organisms, and is so one with them—they in it, and it in +them—that it is more consistent with reason and the common +use of words to see the designer of each living form in the +living form itself, than to look for its designer in some other +place or person.</p> +<p>Thus we have a third alternative presented to us.</p> +<p>Mr. Charles Darwin and his followers deny design, as having +any appreciable share in the formation of organism at all.</p> +<p>Paley and the theologians insist on design, but upon a +designer outside the universe and the organism.</p> +<p>The third opinion is that suggested in the first instance and +carried out to a very high degree of development by Buffon. +It was improved, and indeed, made almost perfect by Dr. Erasmus +Darwin, but too much neglected by him after he had put it +forward. It was borrowed, as I think we may say with some +confidence, from Dr. Darwin by Lamarck, and was followed up by +him ardently thenceforth, during the remainder of his life, +though somewhat less perfectly comprehended by him than it had +been by Dr. Darwin. It is that the design which has +designed organisms, has resided within, and been embodied in, the +organisms themselves.</p> +<h3><!-- page 138--><a name="page138"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 138</span>FAILURE OF THE FIRST EVOLUTIONISTS +TO SEE THEIR POSITION AS TELEOLOGICAL. (<span +class="smcap">chapter iv. of evolution</span>, <span +class="smcap">old and new</span>.)</h3> +<p>It follows from the doctrine of Dr. Erasmus Darwin and +Lamarck, if not from that of Buffon himself, that the majority of +organs are as purposive to the evolutionist as to the theologian, +and far more intelligibly so. Circumstances, however, +prevented these writers from acknowledging this fact to the +world, and perhaps even to themselves. Their <i>crux</i> +was, as it still is to so many evolutionists, the presence of +rudimentary organs, and the processes of embryological +development. They would not admit that rudimentary and +therefore useless organs were designed by a Creator to take their +place once and for ever as part of a scheme whose main idea was, +that every animal structure was to serve some useful end in +connection with its possessor.</p> +<p>This was the doctrine of final causes as then commonly held; +in the face of rudimentary organs it was absurd. Buffon was +above all things else a plain matter of fact thinker, who refused +to go far beyond the obvious. Like all other profound +writers, he was, if I may say so, profoundly superficial. +He felt that the aim of research does not consist in the knowing +this or that, but in the easing of the desire to know or +understand more completely—in the peace of mind which +passeth all understanding. His was the perfection of a +healthy <!-- page 139--><a name="page139"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 139</span>mental organism by which over effort +is felt to be as vicious and contemptible as indolence. He +knew this too well to know the grounds of his knowledge, but we +smaller people who know it less completely, can see that such +felicitous instinctive tempering together of the two great +contradictory principles, love of effort and love of ease, has +underlain every healthy step of all healthy growth, whether of +vegetable or animal, from the earliest conceivable time to the +present moment. Nothing is worth looking at which is seen +either too obviously or with too much difficulty. Nothing +is worth doing or well done which is not done fairly easily, and +some little deficiency of effort is more pardonable than any very +perceptible excess, for virtue has ever erred on the side of +self-indulgence rather than of asceticism.</p> +<p>According to Buffon, then—as also according to Dr. +Darwin, who was just such another practical and genial thinker, +and who was distinctly a pupil of Buffon, though a most +intelligent and original one—if an organ after a reasonable +amount of inspection appeared to be useless, it was to be called +useless without more ado, and theories were to be ordered out of +court if they were troublesome. In like manner, if animals +breed freely <i>inter se</i> before our eyes, as for example the +horse and ass, the fact was to be noted, but no animals were to +be classed as capable of interbreeding until they had asserted +their right to such classification by breeding with tolerable +certainty. If, again, an animal looked as if it felt, that +is to say, if it moved about pretty quickly or made a noise, it +must be held to feel; if it did neither of these things it did +not look as if it felt, and therefore it must be said not to +feel. <i>De non apparentibus et non existentibus eadem est +</i><!-- page 140--><a name="page140"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 140</span><i>lex</i> was one of the chief +axioms of their philosophy; no writers have had a greater horror +of mystery or of ideas that have not become so mastered as to be, +or to have been, superficial. Lamarck was one of those men +of whom I believe it has been said that they have brain upon the +brain. He had his theory that an animal could not feel +unless it had a nervous system, and at least a spinal +marrow—and that it could not think at all without a +brain—all his facts, therefore, have to be made to square +with this. With Buffon and Dr. Darwin we feel safe that +however wrong they may sometimes be, their conclusions have +always been arrived at on that fairly superficial view of things +in which, as I have elsewhere said, our nature alone permits us +to be comforted.</p> +<p>To these writers, then, the doctrine of final causes for +rudimentary organs was a piece of mystification and an absurdity; +no less fatal to any such doctrine were the processes of +embryological development. It was plain that the commonly +received teleology must be given up; but the idea of design or +purpose was so associated in their minds with theological design +that they avoided it altogether. They seem to have +forgotten that an internal purpose is as much purpose as an +external one; hence, unfortunately, though their whole theory of +development is intensely purposive, it is the fact rather than +the name of teleology which has hitherto been insisted upon, even +by the greatest writers on evolution—the name having been +most persistently denied even by those who were most insisting on +the thing itself.</p> +<p>It is easy to understand the difficulty felt by the fathers of +evolution when we remember how much had to be seen before the +facts could lie well before them. <!-- page 141--><a +name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 141</span>It was +necessary to attain, firstly, to a perception of the unity of +person between parents and offspring in successive generations; +secondly, it must be seen that an organism’s memory (within +the limitations to which all memory is subject) goes back for +generations beyond its birth, to the first beginnings in fact, of +which we know anything whatever; thirdly, the latency of that +memory, as of memory generally, till the associated ideas are +reproduced, must be brought to bear upon the facts of heredity; +and lastly, the unconsciousness with which habitual actions come +to be performed, must be assigned as the explanation of the +unconsciousness with which we grow and discharge most of our +natural functions.</p> +<p>Buffon was too busy with the fact that animals descended with +modification at all, to go beyond the development and +illustration of this great truth. I doubt whether he ever +saw more than the first, and that dimly, of the four +considerations above stated.</p> +<p>Dr. Darwin was the first to point out the first two +considerations; he did so with some clearness, but can hardly be +said to have understood their full importance: the two latter +ideas do not appear to have occurred to him.</p> +<p>Lamarck had little if any perception of any one of the +four. When, however, they are firmly seized and brought +into their due bearings one upon another, the facts of heredity +become as simple as those of a man making a tobacco pipe, and +rudimentary organs are seen to be essentially of the same +character as the little rudimentary protuberance at the bottom of +the pipe to which I referred in ‘Erewhon.’ <a +name="citation141"></a><a href="#footnote141" +class="citation">[141]</a></p> +<p>These organs are now no longer useful, but they <!-- page +142--><a name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +142</span>once were so, and were therefore once purposive, though +not so now. They are the expressions of a bygone +usefulness; sayings, as it were, about which there was at one +time infinite wrangling, as to what both the meaning and the +expression should best be, so that they then had living +significance in the mouths of those who used them, though they +have become such mere shibboleths and cant formulæ to +ourselves that we think no more of their meaning than we do of +Julius Cæsar in the month of July. They continue to +be reproduced through the force of habit, and through +indisposition to get out of any familiar groove of action until +it becomes too unpleasant for us to remain in it any +longer. It has long been felt that embryology and +rudimentary structures indicated community of descent. Dr. +Darwin and Lamarck insisted on this, as have all subsequent +writers on evolution; but the explanation why and how the +structures come to be repeated—namely, that they are simply +examples of the force of habit—can only be perceived +intelligently by those who admit such unity between parents and +offspring as that the self-development of the latter can be +properly called habitual (as being a repetition of an act by one +and the same individual), and can only be fully sympathised with +by those who recognise that if habit be admitted as the key to +the fact at all, the unconscious manner in which the habit comes +to be repeated is only of a piece with all our other observations +concerning habit. For the fuller development of the +foregoing, I must refer the reader to my work “Life and +Habit.”</p> +<p>The purposiveness, which even Dr. Darwin (and Lamarck still +less) seems never to have quite recognised in spite of their +having insisted so much on what amounts to the same thing, now +comes into full view. <!-- page 143--><a +name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 143</span>It is seen +that the organs external to the body, and those internal to it, +are the second as much as the first, things which we have made +for our own convenience, and with a prevision that we shall have +need of them; the main difference between the manufacture of +these two classes of organs being, that we have made the one kind +so often that we can no longer follow the processes whereby we +make them, while the others are new things which we must make +introspectively or not at all, and which are not yet so +incorporate with our vitality as that we should think they grow +instead of being manufactured. The manufacture of the tool, +and the manufacture of the living organ prove therefore to be but +two species of the same genus, which, though widely +differentiated, have descended as it were from one common +filament of desire and inventive faculty. The greater or +less complexity of the organs goes for very little. It is +only a question of the amount of intelligence and voluntary +self-adaptation which we must admit, and this must be settled +rather by an appeal to what we find in organism, and observe +concerning it, than by what we may have imagined <i>à +priori</i>.</p> +<p>Given a small speck of jelly with some power of slightly +varying its actions in accordance with slightly varying +circumstances and desires—given such a jelly-speck with a +power of assimilating other matter, and thus of reproducing +itself, given also that it should be possessed of a memory and a +reproductive system, and we can show how the whole animal world +can have descended it may be from an <i>amœba</i> without +interference from without, and how every organ in every creature +is designed at first roughly and tentatively but finally +fashioned with the most consummate <!-- page 144--><a +name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 144</span>perfection, +by the creature which has had need of that organ, which best knew +what it wanted, and was never satisfied till it had got that +which was the best suited to its varying circumstances in their +entirety. We can even show how, if it becomes worth the +Ethiopian’s while to try and change his skin, or the +leopard’s to change his spots, they can assuredly change +them within a not unreasonable time and adapt their covering to +their own will and convenience, and to that of none other; thus +what is commonly conceived of as direct creation by God is moved +back to a time and space inconceivable in their remoteness, while +the aim and design so obvious in nature are shown to be still at +work around us, growing ever busier and busier, and advancing +from day to day both in knowledge and power.</p> +<p>It was reserved for Mr. Charles Darwin and for those who have +too rashly followed him to deny purpose as having had any share +in the development of animal and vegetable organs; to see no +evidence of design in those wonderful provisions which have been +the marvel and delight of observers in all ages. The one +who has drawn our attention more than perhaps any other living +writer to those very marvels of co-adaptation, is the foremost to +maintain that they are the result not of desire and design, +either within the creature or without it, but of blind chance, +working no whither, and due but to the accumulation of +innumerable lucky accidents.</p> +<p>“There are men,” writes Professor Tyndal in the +<i>Nineteenth Century</i> for last November, <a +name="citation144"></a><a href="#footnote144" +class="citation">[144]</a> “and by no means the minority, +who, however wealthy in regard to facts, can never rise into the +region of principles; <!-- page 145--><a name="page145"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 145</span>and they are sometimes intolerant of +those that can. They are formed to plod meritoriously on in +the lower levels of thought; unpossessed of the pinions necessary +to reach the heights, they cannot realise the mental +act—the act of inspiration it might well be called—by +which a man of genius, after long pondering and proving, reaches +a theoretic conception which unravels and illuminates the tangle +of centuries of observation and experiment. There are +minds, it may be said in passing, who, at the present moment, +stand in this relation to Mr. Darwin.”</p> +<p>The more rhapsodical parts of the above must go for what they +are worth, but I should be sorry to think that what remains +conveyed a censure which might fall justly on myself. As I +read the earlier part of the passage I confess that I imagined +the conclusion was going to be very different from what it proved +to be. Fresh from the study of the older men and also of +Mr. Darwin himself, I failed to see that Mr. Darwin had +“unravelled and illuminated” a tangled skein, but +believed him, on the contrary, to have tangled and obscured what +his predecessors had made in great part, if not wholly, +plain. With the older writers, I had felt as though in the +hands of men who wished to understand themselves and to make +their reader understand them with the smallest possible +exertion. The older men, if not in full daylight, at any +rate saw in what quarter of the sky the dawn was breaking, and +were looking steadily towards it. It is not they who have +put their hands over their own eyes and ours, and who are crying +out that there is no light, but chance and blindness +everywhere.</p> +<h3><!-- page 146--><a name="page146"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 146</span>THE TELEOLOGICAL EVOLUTION OF +ORGANISM. (<span class="smcap">chapter v. of +evolution</span>, <span class="smcap">old and new</span>.)</h3> +<p>I have stated the foregoing in what I take to be an extreme +logical development, in order that the reader may more easily +perceive the consequences of those premises which I am +endeavouring to re-establish. But it must not be supposed +that an animal or plant has ever conceived the idea of some organ +widely different from any it was yet possessed of, and has set +itself to design it in detail and grow towards it.</p> +<p>The small jelly-speck, which we call the amœba, has no +organs save what it can extemporise as occasion arises. If +it wants to get at anything, it thrusts out part of its jelly, +which thus serves it as an arm or hand: when the arm has served +its purpose, it is absorbed into the rest of the jelly, and has +now to do the duty of a stomach by helping to wrap up what it has +just purveyed. The small round jelly-speck spreads itself +out and envelops its food, so that the whole creature is now a +stomach, and nothing but a stomach. Having digested its +food, it again becomes a jelly-speck, and is again ready to turn +part of itself into hand or foot as its next convenience may +dictate. It is not to be believed that such a creature as +this, which is probably just sensitive to light and nothing more, +should be able to form any conception of an eye <!-- page +147--><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +147</span>and set itself to work to grow one, any more than it is +believable that he who first observed the magnifying power of a +dew-drop, or even he who first constructed a rude lens, should +have had any idea in his mind of Lord Rosse’s telescope +with all its parts and appliances. Nothing could be well +conceived more foreign to experience and common sense. +Animals and plants have travelled to their present forms as a man +has travelled to any one of his own most complicated +inventions. Slowly, step by step, through many blunders and +mischances which have worked together for good to those that have +persevered in elasticity. They have travelled as man has +travelled, with but little perception of a want till there was +also some perception of a power, and with but little perception +of a power till there was a dim sense of want; want stimulating +power, and power stimulating want; and both so based upon each +other that no one can say which is the true foundation, but +rather that they must be both baseless and, as it were, meteoric +in mid air. They have seen very little ahead of a present +power or need, and have been then most moral, when most inclined +to pierce a little into futurity, but also when most obstinately +declining to pierce too far, and busy mainly with the +present. They have been so far blindfolded that they could +see but for a few steps in front of them, yet so far free to see +that those steps were taken with aim and definitely, and not in +the dark.</p> +<p>“Plus il a su,” says Buffon, speaking of man, +“plus il a pu, mais aussi moins il a fait, moins il a +su.” This holds good wherever life holds good. +Wherever there is life there is a moral government of rewards and +punishments understood by the amœba neither <!-- page +148--><a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +148</span>better nor worse than by man. The history of +organic development is the history of a moral struggle.</p> +<p>As for the origin of a creature able to feel want and power +and as to what want and power spring from, we know nothing as +yet, nor does it seem worth while to go into this question until +an understanding has been come to as to whether the interaction +of want and power in some low form or forms of life which could +assimilate matter, reproduce themselves, vary their actions, and +be capable of remembering, will or will not suffice to explain +the development of the varied organs and desires which we see in +the higher vertebrates and man. When this question has been +settled, then it will be time to push our inquiries farther +back.</p> +<p>But given such a low form of life as here postulated, and +there is no force in Paley’s pretended objection to the +Darwinism of his time.</p> +<p>“Give our philosopher,” he says, +“appetencies; give him a portion of living irritable matter +(a nerve or the clipping of a nerve) to work upon; give also to +his incipient or progressive forms the power of propagating their +like in every stage of their alteration; and if he is to be +believed, he could replenish the world with all the vegetable and +animal productions which we now see in it.” <a +name="citation148"></a><a href="#footnote148" +class="citation">[148]</a></p> +<p>After meeting this theory with answers which need not detain +us, he continues:—</p> +<p>“The senses of animals appear to me quite incapable of +receiving the explanation of their origin which this theory +affords. Including under the word ‘sense’ the +organ and the perception, we have no account of either. How +will our philosopher get at vision or make an eye? Or, +suppose the eye formed, would the perception <!-- page 149--><a +name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +149</span>follow? The same of the other senses. And +this objection holds its force, ascribe what you will to the hand +of time, to the power of habit, to changes too slow to be +observed by man, or brought within any comparison which he is +able to make of past things with the present. Concede what +you please to these arbitrary and unattested superstitions, how +will they help you? Here is no inception. No laws, no +course, no powers of nature which prevail at present, nor any +analogous to these would give commencement to a new sense; and it +is in vain to inquire how that might proceed which would never +<i>begin</i>.”</p> +<p>In answer to this, let us suppose that some inhabitants of +another world were to see a modern philosopher so using a +microscope that they should believe it to be a part of the +philosopher’s own person, which he could cut off from and +join again to himself at pleasure, and suppose there were a +controversy as to how this microscope had originated, and that +one party maintained the man had made it little by little because +he wanted it, while the other declared this to be absurd and +impossible; I ask, would this latter party be justified in +arguing that microscopes could never have been perfected by +degrees through the preservation of and accumulation of small +successive improvements inasmuch as men could not have begun to +want to use microscopes until they had had a microscope which +should show them that such an instrument would be useful to them, +and that hence there is nothing to account for the +<i>beginning</i> of microscopes, which might indeed make some +progress when once originated, but which could never +originate?</p> +<p>It might be pointed out to such a reasoner, firstly, that as +regards any acquired power the various stages <!-- page 150--><a +name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 150</span>in the +acquisition of which he might be supposed able to remember, he +would find that logic notwithstanding, the wish did originate the +power, and yet was originated by it, both coming up gradually out +of something which was not recognisable as either power or wish, +and advancing through vain beating of the air, to a vague effort, +and from this to definite effort with failure, and from this to +definite effort with success, and from this to success with +little consciousness of effort, and from this to success with +such complete absence of effort that he now acts unconsciously +and without power of introspection, and that, do what he will, he +can rarely or never draw a sharp dividing line whereat anything +shall be said to begin, though none less certain that there has +been a continuity in discontinuity, and a discontinuity in +continuity between it and certain other past things; moreover, +that his opponents postulated so much beginning of the microscope +as that there should be a dew-drop, even as our evolutionists +start with a sense of touch, of which sense all the others are +modifications, so that not one of them, but is resolvable into +touch by more or less easy stages; and secondly, that the +question is one of fact and of the more evident deductions +therefrom, and should not be carried back to those remote +beginnings where the nature of the facts is so purely a matter of +conjecture and inference.</p> +<p>No plant or animal, then, according to our view, would be able +to conceive more than a very slight improvement on its +organisation at a given time, so clearly as to make the efforts +towards it that would result in growth of the required +modification; nor would these efforts be made with any +far-sighted perception of what next and next and after, but only +of what next; while many of the happiest thoughts would come like +all other <!-- page 151--><a name="page151"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 151</span>happy thoughts—thoughtlessly; +by a chain of reasoning too swift and subtle for conscious +analysis by the individual. Some of these modifications +would be noticeable, but the majority would involve no more +noticeable difference that can be detected between the length of +the shortest day, and that of the shortest but one.</p> +<p>Thus a bird whose toes were not webbed, but who had under +force of circumstances little by little in the course of many +generations learned to swim, either from having lived near a +lake, and having learnt the art owing to its fishing habits, or +from wading about in shallow pools by the sea-side at low water +and finding itself sometimes a little out of its depth and just +managing to scramble over the intermediate yard or so between it +and safety—such a bird did not probably conceive the idea +of swimming on the water and set itself to learn to do so, and +then conceive the idea of webbed feet and set itself to get +webbed feet. The bird found itself in some small +difficulty, out of which it either saw, or at any rate found that +it could extricate itself by striking out vigorously with its +feet and extending its toes as far as ever it could; it thus +began to learn the art of swimming and conceived the idea of +swimming synchronously, or nearly so; or perhaps wishing to get +over a yard or two of deep water, and trying to do so without +being at the trouble of rising to fly, it would splash and +struggle its way over the water, and thus practically swim, +though without much perception of what it had been doing. +Finding that no harm had come to it, the bird would do the same +again and again; it would thus presently lose fear, and would be +able to act more calmly; then it would begin to find out that it +could swim a little, and <!-- page 152--><a +name="page152"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 152</span>if its food +lay much in the water so that it would be of great advantage to +it to be able to alight and rest without being forced to return +to land, it would begin to make a practice of swimming. It +would now discover that it could swim the more easily according +as its feet presented a more extended surface to the water; it +would therefore keep its toes extended wherever it swam, and as +far as in it lay, would make the most of whatever skin was +already at the base of its toes. After many generations it +would become web-footed, if doing as above described should have +been found continuously convenient, so that the bird should have +continuously used the skin about its toes as much as possible in +this direction.</p> +<p>For there is a margin in every organic structure (and perhaps +more than we imagine in things inorganic also), which will admit +of references, as it were, side notes, and glosses upon the +original text. It is on this margin that we may err or +wander—the greatness of a mistake depending rather upon the +extent of the departure from the original text, than on the +direction that the departure takes. A little error on the +bad side is more pardonable, and less likely to hurt the organism +than a too great departure upon the right one. This is a +fundamental proposition in any true system of ethics, the +question what is too much or too sudden being decided by much the +same higgling as settles the price of butter in a country market, +and being as invisible as the link which connects the last moment +of desire with the first of power and performance, and with the +material result achieved.</p> +<p>It is on this margin that the fulcrum is to be found, whereby +we obtain the little purchase over our structure, that enables us +to achieve great results if we use <!-- page 153--><a +name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 153</span>it +steadily, with judgment, and with neither too little effort nor +too much. It is by employing this that those who have a +fancy to move their ears or toes without moving other organs +learn to do so. There is a man at the Agricultural Hall now +<a name="citation153a"></a><a href="#footnote153a" +class="citation">[153a]</a> playing the violin with his toes, and +playing it, as I am told, sufficiently well. The eye of the +sailor, the wrist of the conjuror, the toe of the professional +medium, are all found capable of development to an astonishing +degree, even in a single lifetime; but in every case success has +been attained by the simple process of making the best of +whatever power a man has had at any given time, and by being on +the look-out to take advantage of accident, and even of +misfortune. If a man would learn to paint, he must not +theorise concerning art, nor think much what he would do +beforehand, but he must do <i>something</i>—whatever under +the circumstances will come handiest and easiest to him; and he +must do that something as well as he can. This will +presently open the door for something else, and a way will show +itself which no conceivable amount of searching would have +discovered, but which yet could never have been discovered by +sitting still and taking no pains at all. “Dans +l’animal,” says Buffon, “il y a moins de +jugement que de sentiment.” <a name="citation153b"></a><a +href="#footnote153b" class="citation">[153b]</a></p> +<p>It may appear as though this were blowing hot and cold with +the same breath, inasmuch as I am insisting that important +modifications of structure have been always purposive; and at the +same time am denying that the creature modified has had any +far-seeing purpose in the greater part of all those actions which +have at length modified both structure and instinct. Thus I +say that a bird learns to swim without having <!-- page 154--><a +name="page154"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 154</span>any purpose +of learning to swim before it set itself to make those movements +which have resulted in its being able to do so. At the same +time I maintain that it has only learned to swim by trying to +swim, and this involves the very purpose which I have just +denied. The reconciliation of these two apparently +irreconcilable contentions must be found in the consideration +that the bird was not the less trying to swim, merely because it +did not know the name we have chosen to give to the art which it +was trying to master, nor yet how great were the resources of +that art. A person, who knew all about swimming, if from +some bank he could watch our supposed bird’s first attempt +to scramble over a short space of deep water, would at once +declare that the bird was trying to swim—if not actually +swimming. Provided then that there is a very little +perception of, and prescience concerning, the means whereby the +next desired end may be attained, it matters not how little in +advance that end may be of present desire or faculties; it is +still reached through purpose, and must be called +purposive. Again, no matter how many of these small steps +be taken, nor how absolute was the want of purpose or prescience +concerning any but the one being actually taken at any given +moment, this does not bar the result from having been arrived at +through design and purpose. If each one of the small steps +is purposive the result is purposive, though there was never +purpose extended over more than one, two, or perhaps at most +three steps at a time.</p> +<p>Returning to the art of painting for an example, are we to say +that the proficiency which such a student as was supposed above +will certainly attain, is not due to design, merely because it +was not until he had already <!-- page 155--><a +name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 155</span>become +three parts excellent that he knew the full purport of all that +he had been doing? When he began he had but vague notions +of what he would do. He had a wish to learn to represent +nature, but the line into which he has settled down has probably +proved very different from that which he proposed to himself +originally. Because he has taken advantage of his +accidents, is it, therefore, one whit the less true that his +success is the result of his desires and his design? The +<i>Times</i> pointed out some time ago that the theory which now +associates meteors and comets in the most unmistakable manner, +was suggested by one accident, and confirmed by another. +But the writer added well that “such accidents happen only +to the zealous student of nature’s secrets.” In +the same way the bird that is taking to the habit of swimming, +and of making the most of whatever skin it already has between +its toes, will have doubtless to thank accidents for no small +part of its progress; but they will be such accidents as could +never have happened to or been taken advantage of by any creature +which was not zealously trying to make the most of +itself—and between such accidents as this, and design, the +line is hard to draw; for if we go deep enough we shall find that +most of our design resolves itself into as it were a shaking of +the bag to see what will come out that will suit our purpose, and +yet at the same time that most of our shaking of the bag resolves +itself into a design that the bag shall contain only such and +such things, or thereabouts.</p> +<p>Again, the fact that animals are no longer conscious of design +and purpose in much that they do, but act unreflectingly, and as +we sometimes say concerning ourselves “automatically” +or “mechanically”—that they have no idea +whatever of the steps, whereby they <!-- page 156--><a +name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 156</span>have +travelled to their present state, and show no sign of doubt about +what must have been at one time the subject of all manner of +doubts, difficulties, and discussions—that whatever sign of +reflection they now exhibit is to be found only in case of some +novel feature or difficulty presenting itself; these facts do not +bar that the results achieved should be attributed to an +inception in reason, design and purpose, no matter how rapidly +and as we call it instinctively, the creatures may now act.</p> +<p>For if we look closely at such an invention as the steam +engine in its latest and most complicated developments, about +which there can be no dispute but that they are achievements of +reason, purpose and design, we shall find them present us with +examples of all those features the presence of which in the +handiwork of animals is too often held to bar reason and purpose +from having had any share therein.</p> +<p>Assuredly such men as the Marquis of Worcester and Captain +Savery had very imperfect ideas as to the upshot of their own +action. The simplest steam engine now in use in England is +probably a marvel of ingenuity as compared with the highest +development which appeared possible to these two great men, while +our newest and most highly complicated engines would seem to them +more like living beings than machines. Many, again, of the +steps leading to the present development have been due to action +which had but little heed of the steam engine, being the +inventions of attendants whose desire was to save themselves the +trouble of turning this or that cock, and who were indifferent to +any other end than their own immediate convenience. No step +in fact along the whole route was ever taken with much perception +of what would <!-- page 157--><a name="page157"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 157</span>be the next step after the one being +taken at any given moment.</p> +<p>Nor do we find that an engine made after any old and +well-known pattern is now made with much more consciousness of +design than we can suppose a bird’s nest to be built +with. The greater number of the parts of any such engine, +are made by the gross as it were like screw and nuts, which are +turned out by machinery and in respect of which the labour of +design is now no more felt than is the design of him who first +invented the wheel. It is only when circumstances require +any modification in the article to be manufactured that thought +and design will come into play again; but I take it few will deny +that if circumstances compel a bird either to give up a nest +three-parts built altogether, or to make some trifling deviation +from its ordinary practice, it will in nine cases out of ten make +such deviation as shall show that it had thought the matter over, +and had on the whole concluded to take such and such a course, +that is to say, that it had reasoned and had acted with such +purpose as its reason had dictated.</p> +<p>And I imagine that this is the utmost that any one can claim +even for man’s own boasted powers. Set the man who +has been accustomed to make engines of one type, to make engines +of another type without any intermediate course of training or +instruction, and he will make no better figure with his engines +than a thrush would do if commanded by her mate to make a nest +like a blackbird. It is vain then to contend that the ease +and certainty with which an action is performed, even though it +may have now become matter of such fixed habit that it cannot be +suddenly and seriously modified without rendering the whole +performance abortive, is any argument against that <!-- page +158--><a name="page158"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +158</span>action having been an achievement of design and reason +in respect of each one of the steps that have led to it; and if +in respect of each one of the steps then as regards the entire +action; for we see our own most reasoned actions become no less +easy, unerring, automatic, and unconscious, than the actions +which we call instinctive when they have been repeated a +sufficient number of times.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>If the foregoing be granted, and it be admitted that the +unconsciousness and seeming automatism with which any action may +be performed is no bar to its having a foundation in memory, +reason, and at one time consciously recognised effort—and +this I believe to be the chief addition which I have ventured to +make to the theory of Buffon and Dr. Erasmus Darwin—then +the wideness of the difference between the Darwinism of eighty +years ago and the Darwinism of to-day becomes immediately +apparent, and it also becomes apparent, how important and +interesting is the issue which is raised between them.</p> +<p>According to the older Darwinism the lungs are just as +purposive as the corkscrew. They, no less than the +corkscrew, are a piece of mechanism designed and gradually +improved upon and perfected by an intelligent creature for the +gratification of its own needs. True there are many +important differences between mechanism which is part of the +body, and mechanism which is no such part, but the differences +are such as do not affect the fact that in each case the result, +whether, for example, lungs or corkscrew, is due to desire, +invention, and design.</p> +<p>And now I will ask one more question, which may seem, perhaps, +to have but little importance, but which <!-- page 159--><a +name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 159</span>I find +personally interesting. I have been told by a reviewer, of +whom upon the whole I have little reason to complain, that the +theory I put forward in “Life and Habit,” and which I +am now again insisting on, is pessimism—pure and +simple. I have a very vague idea what pessimism means, but +I should be sorry to believe that I am a pessimist. Which, +I would ask, is the pessimist? He who sees love of beauty, +design, steadfastness of purpose, intelligence, courage, and +every quality to which success has assigned the name of +“worth” as having drawn the pattern of every leaf and +organ now and in all past time, or he who sees nothing in the +world of nature but a chapter of accidents and of forces +interacting blindly?</p> +<h3><!-- page 160--><a name="page160"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 160</span>BUFFON—MEMOIR. (<span +class="smcap">chapter viii. of evolution</span>, <span +class="smcap">old and new</span>.)</h3> +<p>Buffon, says M. Flourens, was born at Montbar, on the 7th of +September 1707; he died in Paris, at the Jardin du Roi, on the +16th of April 1788, aged 81 years. More than fifty of these +years, as he used himself to say, he had passed at his +writing-desk. His father was a councillor of the parliament +of Burgundy. His mother was celebrated for her wit, and +Buffon cherished her memory.</p> +<p>He studied at Dijon with much <i>éclat</i>, and shortly +after leaving became accidentally acquainted with the Duke of +Kingston, a young Englishman of his own age, who was travelling +abroad with a tutor. The three travelled together in France +and Italy, and Buffon then passed some months in England.</p> +<p>Returning to France, he translated Hales’s Vegetable +Statics and Newton’s Treatise on Fluxions. He refers +to several English writers on natural history in the course of +his work, but I see he repeated spells the English name +Willoughby, “Willulghby.” He was appointed +superintendent of the Jardin du Roi in 1739, and from thenceforth +devoted himself to science.</p> +<p>In 1752 Buffon married Mdlle de Saint Bélin, whose +beauty and charm of manner were extolled by all her +contemporaries. One son was born to him, who entered the +army, became a colonel, and I grieve to say, was <!-- page +161--><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +161</span>guillotined at the age of twenty-nine, a few days only +before the extinction of the Reign of Terror.</p> +<p>Of this youth, who inherited the personal comeliness and +ability of his father, little is recorded except the following +story. Having fallen into the water and been nearly drowned +when he was about twelve years old, he was afterwards accused of +having been afraid: “I was so little afraid,” he +answered, “that though I had been offered the hundred years +which my grandfather lived, I would have died then and there, if +I could have added one year to the life of my father;” then +thinking for a minute, a flush suffused his face and he added, +“but I should petition for one quarter of an hour in which +to exult over the thought of what I was about to do.”</p> +<p>On the scaffold he showed much composure, smiling half +proudly, half reproachfully, yet wholly kindly upon the crowd in +front of him. “Citoyens,” he said, “Je me +nomine Buffon,” and laid his head upon the block.</p> +<p>The noblest outcome of the old and decaying order, overwhelmed +in the most hateful birth frenzy of the new. So in those +cataclysms and revolutions which take place in our own bodies +during their development, when we seem studying in order to +become fishes and suddenly make, as it were, different +arrangements and resolve on becoming men—so, doubtless, +many good cells must go, and their united death cry comes up, it +may be, in the pain which an infant feels on teething. But +to return. The man who could be father of such a son, and +who could retain that son’s affection, as it is well known +that Buffon retained it, may not perhaps always be strictly +accurate, but it will be as well to pay attention to whatever he +may think fit to <!-- page 162--><a name="page162"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 162</span>tell us. These are the only +people whom it is worth while to look to and study from.</p> +<p>“Glory,” said Buffon, after speaking of the hours +during which he had laboured, “glory comes always after +labour if she can—<i>and she generally +can</i>.” But in his case she could not well help +herself. “He was conspicuous,” says M. +Flourens, “for elevation and force of character, for a love +of greatness and true magnificence in all he did. His great +wealth, his handsome person, and graceful manners seemed in +correspondence with the splendour of his genius, so that of all +the gifts which Fortune has in it her power to bestow she had +denied him nothing.”</p> +<p>Many of his epigrammatic sayings have passed into proverbs: +for example, that “genius is but a supreme capacity for +taking pains.” Another and still more celebrated +passage shall be given in its entirety and with its original +setting.</p> +<p>“Style,” says Buffon, “is the only passport +to posterity. It is not range of information, nor mastery +of some little known branch of science, nor yet novelty of matter +that will ensure immortality. Works that can claim all this +will yet die if they are conversant about trivial objects only, +or written without taste, genius, and true nobility of mind; for +range of information, knowledge of details, novelty of discovery +are of a volatile essence and fly off readily into other hands +that know better how to treat them. The matter is foreign +to the man, and is not of him; the manner is the man +himself.” <a name="citation162"></a><a href="#footnote162" +class="citation">[162]</a></p> +<p>“Le style, c’est l’homme +mêmo.” Elsewhere he tells us what true style +is, but I quote from memory and cannot be sure of the +passage. “Le style,” he says <!-- page 163--><a +name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 163</span>“est +comme le bonheur; il vient de la douceur de +l’âme.”</p> +<p>Is it possible not to think of the following?—</p> +<p>“But whether there be prophecies they shall fail; +whether there be tongues they shall cease; whether there be +knowledge it shall vanish away . . . and now abideth faith, hope +and charity, these three; but the greatest of these is +charity.” <a name="citation163"></a><a href="#footnote163" +class="citation">[163]</a></p> +<h3><!-- page 164--><a name="page164"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 164</span>BUFFON’S METHOD—THE +IRONICAL CHARACTER OF HIS WORK. (<span +class="smcap">chapter ix. of evolution</span>, <span +class="smcap">old and new</span>.)</h3> +<p>Buffon’s idea of a method amounts almost to the denial +of the possibility of method at all. “The true +method,” he writes, “is the complete description and +exact history of each particular object,” <a +name="citation164a"></a><a href="#footnote164a" +class="citation">[164a]</a> and later on he asks, “is it +not more simple, more natural and more true to call an ass an +ass, and a cat a cat, than to say, without knowing why, that an +ass is a horse, and a cat a lynx?” <a +name="citation164b"></a><a href="#footnote164b" +class="citation">[164b]</a></p> +<p>He admits such divisions as between animals and vegetables, or +between vegetables and minerals, but that done, he rejects all +others that can be founded on the nature of things +themselves. He concludes that one who could see living +forms as a whole and without preconceived opinions, would +classify animals according to the relations in which he found +himself standing towards them:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Those which he finds most necessary and +useful to him will occupy the first rank; thus he will give the +precedence among the lower animals to the dog and the horse; he +will next concern himself with those which without being +domesticated, nevertheless occupy the same country and climate as +himself, as for example <!-- page 165--><a +name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 165</span>stags, +hares, and all wild animals; nor will it be till after he has +familiarised himself with all these that curiosity will lead him +to inquire what inhabitants there may be in foreign climates, +such as elephants, dromedaries, &c. The same will hold +good for fishes, birds, insects, shells, and for all +nature’s other productions; he will study them in +proportion to the profit which he can draw from them; he will +consider them in that order in which they enter into his daily +life; he will arrange them in his head according to this order, +which is in fact that in which he has become acquainted with +them, and in which it concerns him to think about them, This +order—the most natural of all—is the one which I have +thought it well to follow in this volume. My classification +has no more mystery in it than the reader has just seen . . . it +is preferable to the most profound and ingenious that can be +conceived, for there is none of all the classifications which +ever have been made or ever can be, which has not more of an +arbitrary character than this has. Take it for all in +all,” he concludes, “it is more easy, more agreeable, +and more useful, to consider things in their relation to +ourselves than from any other standpoint.” <a +name="citation165"></a><a href="#footnote165" +class="citation">[165]</a></p> +<p>“Has it not a better effect not only in a treatise on +natural history, but in a picture or any work of art to arrange +objects in the order and place in which they are commonly found, +than to force them into association in virtue of some theory of +our own? Is it not better to let the dog which has toes, +come after the horse which has a single hoof, in the same way as +we see him follow the horse in daily life, than to follow up the +horse by the zebra, an animal which is little known to us, and +<!-- page 166--><a name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +166</span>which has no other connection with the horse than the +fact that it has a single hoof?” <a +name="citation166a"></a><a href="#footnote166a" +class="citation">[166a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Can we suppose that Buffon really saw no more connection than +this? The writer whom we shall presently find <a +name="citation166b"></a><a href="#footnote166b" +class="citation">[166b]</a> declining to admit any essential +difference between the skeletons of man and of the horse, can +here see no resemblance between the zebra and the horse, except +that they each have a single hoof. Is he to be taken at his +word?</p> +<p>It is perhaps necessary to tell the reader that Buffon carried +the foregoing scheme into practice as nearly as he could in the +first fifteen volumes of his Natural History. He begins +with man—and then goes on to the horse, the ass, the cow, +sheep, goat, pig, dog, &c. One would be glad to know +whether he found it always more easy to know in what order of +familiarity this or that animal would stand to the majority of +his readers than other classifiers have found it to know whether +an individual more resembles one species or another; probably he +never gave the matter a thought after he had gone through the +first dozen most familiar animals, but settled generally down +into a classification which becomes more and more +specific—as when he treats of the apes and +monkeys—till he reaches the birds, when he openly abandons +his original idea, in deference, as he says, to the opinion of +“le peuple des naturalistes.”</p> +<p>Perhaps the key to this piece of apparent extravagance is to +be found in the word “mystérieuse.” <a +name="citation166c"></a><a href="#footnote166c" +class="citation">[166c]</a> Buffon wished to raise a +standing protest against mystery mongering. Or perhaps more +probably, he wished at once to turn to animals under +domestication, so as to insist early on the main object of his +work—the plasticity of animal forms.</p> +<p><!-- page 167--><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +167</span>I am inclined to think that a vein of irony pervades +the whole or much the greater part of Buffon’s work, and +that he intended to convey one meaning to one set of readers, and +another to another; indeed, it is often impossible to believe +that he is not writing between his lines for the discerning, what +the undiscerning were not intended to see. It must be +remembered that his Natural History has two sides,—a +scientific and a popular one. May we not imagine that +Buffon would be unwilling to debar himself from speaking to those +who could understand him, and yet would wish like Handel and +Shakespeare to address the many, as well as the few? But +the only manner in which these seemingly irreconcilable ends +could be attained, would be by the use of language which should +be self-adjusting to the capacity of the reader. So keen an +observer can hardly have been blind to the signs of the times +which were already close at hand. Free-thinker though he +was, he was also a powerful member of the aristocracy, and little +likely to demean himself—for so he would doubtless hold +it—by playing the part of Voltaire or Rousseau. He +would help those who could see to see still further, but he would +not dazzle eyes that were yet imperfect with a light brighter +than they could stand. He would therefore impose upon +people, as much as he thought was for their good; but, on the +other hand, he would not allow inferior men to mystify them.</p> +<p>“In the private character of Buffon,” says Sir +William Jardine in a characteristic passage, “we regret +there is not much to praise; his disposition was kind and +benevolent, and he was generally beloved by his inferiors, +followers, and dependants, which were numerous over his extensive +property; he was strictly honourable, <!-- page 168--><a +name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 168</span>and was an +affectionate parent. In early youth he had entered into the +pleasures and dissipations of life, and licentious habits seem to +have been retained to the end. But the great blemish in +such a mind was his declared infidelity; it presents one of those +exceptions among the persons who have been devoted to the study +of nature; and it is not easy to imagine a mind apparently with +such powers, scarcely acknowledging a Creator, and when noticed, +only by an arraignment for what appeared wanting or defective in +His great works. So openly, indeed, was the freedom of his +religious opinions expressed, that the indignation of the +Sorbonne was provoked. He had to enter into an explanation +which he in some way rendered satisfactory; and while he +afterwards attended to the outward ordinances of religion, he +considered them as a system of faith for the multitude, and +regarded those most impolitic who most opposed them.” <a +name="citation168"></a><a href="#footnote168" +class="citation">[168]</a></p> +<p>This is partly correct and partly not. Buffon was a +free-thinker, and as I have sufficiently explained, a decided +opponent of the doctrine that rudimentary and therefore useless +organs were designed by a Creator in order to serve some useful +end throughout all time to the creature in which they are +found.</p> +<p>He was not, surely, to hide the magnificent conceptions which +he had been the first to grasp, from those who were worthy to +receive them; on the other hand he would not tell the +uninstructed what they would interpret as a licence to do +whatever they pleased, inasmuch as there was no God. What +he did was to point so irresistibly in the right direction, that +a reader of any intelligence should be in no doubt as to the road +he ought to take, and then to contradict himself <!-- page +169--><a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 169</span>so +flatly as to reassure those who would be shocked by a truth for +which they were not yet ready. If I am right in the view +which I have taken of Buffon’s work, it is not easy to see +how he could have formed a finer scheme, nor have carried it out +more finely.</p> +<p>I should, however, warn the reader to be on his guard against +accepting my view too hastily. So far as I know I stand +alone in taking it. Neither Dr. Darwin, nor Flourens, nor +Isidore Geoffroy, nor Mr. Charles Darwin see any subrisive humour +in Buffon’s pages; but it must be remembered that Flourens +was a strong opponent of mutability, and probably paid but little +heed to what Buffon said on this question; Isidore Geoffroy is +not a safe guide, few men indeed less so. Mr. Charles +Darwin seems to have adopted the one half of Isidore +Geoffrey’s conclusions without verifying either; and Dr. +Erasmus Darwin, who has no small share of a very pleasant +conscious humour, yet sometimes rises to such heights of +unconscious humour, that Buffon’s puny labour may well have +been invisible to him. Dr. Darwin wrote a great deal of +poetry, some of which was about the common pump. Miss +Seward tells us, that he “illustrated this familiar object +with a picture of Maternal Beauty administering sustenance to her +infant.” Buffon could not have done anything like +this.</p> +<p>Buffon never, then, “arraigned the Creator for what was +wanting or defective in His works;” on the contrary, +whenever he was led up by an irresistible chain of reasoning to +conclusions which should make men recast their ideas concerning +the Deity, he invariably retreats under cover of an appeal to +revelation. Naturally enough, the Sorbonne objected to an +artifice which even Buffon could not conceal completely. +They did <!-- page 170--><a name="page170"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 170</span>not like being undermined; like +Buffon himself, they preferred imposing upon the people, to +seeing others do so. Buffon made his peace with the +Sorbonne immediately, and, perhaps, from that time forward, +contradicted himself a little more impudently than +heretofore.</p> +<p>It is probably for the reasons above suggested that Buffon did +not propound a connected scheme of evolution or descent with +modification, but scattered his theory in fragments up and down +his work in the prefatory remarks with which he introduces the +more striking animals or classes of animals. He never +wastes evolutionary matter in the preface to an uninteresting +animal; and the more interesting the animal, the more evolution +will there be commonly found. When he comes to describe the +animal more familiarly—and he generally begins a fresh +chapter or half chapter when he does so—he writes no more +about evolution, but gives an admirable description, which no one +can fail to enjoy, and which I cannot think is nearly so +inaccurate as is commonly supposed. These descriptions are +the parts which Buffon intended for the general reader, +expecting, doubtless, and desiring that such a reader should skip +the dry parts he had been addressing to the more studious. +It is true the descriptions are written <i>ad captandum</i>, as +are all great works, but they succeed in captivating, having been +composed with all the pains a man of genius and of great +perseverance could bestow upon them. If I am not mistaken, +he looked to these parts of his work to keep the whole alive till +the time should come when the philosophical side of his writings +should be understood and appreciated.</p> +<p>Thus the goat breeds with the sheep, and may therefore <!-- +page 171--><a name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +171</span>serve as the text for a dissertation on hybridism, +which is accordingly given in the preface to this animal. +The presence of rudimentary organs under a pig’s hoof +suggests an attack upon the doctrine of final causes in so far as +it is pretended that every part of every animal or plant was +specially designed with a view to the wants of the animal or +plant itself, once and forever throughout all time. The dog +with his great variety of breeds gives an opportunity for an +article on the formation of breeds and sub-breeds by man’s +artificial selection. The cat is not honoured with any +philosophical reflection, and comes in for nothing but +abuse. The hare suggests the rabbit, and the rabbit is a +rapid breeder, although the hare is an unusually slow one; but +this is near enough, so the hare shall serve us for the theme of +a discourse on the geometrical ratio of increase and the balance +of power which may be observed in nature. When we come to +the carnivora, additional reflections follow upon the necessity +for death, and even for violent death; this leads to the question +whether the creatures that are killed suffer pain; here, then, +will be the proper place for considering the sensations of +animals generally.</p> +<p>Perhaps the most pregnant passage concerning evolution is to +be found in the preface to the ass, which is so near the +beginning of the work as to be only the second animal of which +Buffon treats after having described man himself. It points +strongly in the direction of his having believed all animal forms +to have been descended from one single common ancestral +type. Buffon did not probably choose to take his very first +opportunity in order to insist upon matter that should point in +this direction; but the considerations <!-- page 172--><a +name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 172</span>were too +important to be deferred long, and are accordingly put forward +under cover of the ass, his second animal.</p> +<p>When we consider the force with which Buffon’s +conclusion is led up to; the obviousness of the conclusion itself +when the premises are once admitted; the impossibility that such +a conclusion should be again lost sight of if the reasonableness +of its being drawn had been once admitted; the position in his +scheme which is assigned to it by its propounder; the persistency +with which he demonstrates during forty years thereafter that the +premises, which he has declared should establish the conclusion +in question, are indisputable;—when we consider, too, that +we are dealing with a man of unquestionable genius, and that the +times and circumstances of his life were such as would go far to +explain reserve and irony—is it, I would ask, reasonable to +suppose that Buffon did not in his own mind, and from the first, +draw the inference to which he leads his reader, merely because +from time to time he tells the reader, with a shrug of the +shoulders, that <i>he</i> draws no inferences opposed to the Book +of Genesis? Is it not more likely that Buffon intended his +reader to draw his inferences for himself, and perhaps to value +them all the more highly on that account?</p> +<p>The passage to which I am alluding is as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“If from the boundless variety which +animated nature presents to us, we choose the body of some animal +or even that of man himself to serve as a model with which to +compare the bodies of other organised beings, we shall find that +though all these beings have an individuality of their own, and +are distinguished from one another by differences of which the +gradations are infinitely subtle, there exists at the same time a +<!-- page 173--><a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +173</span>primitive and general design which we can follow for a +long way, and the departures from which +(<i>dégénérations</i>) are far more gentle +than those from mere outward resemblance. For not to +mention organs of digestion, circulation, and generation, which +are common to all animals, and without which the animal would +cease to be an animal, and could neither continue to exist nor +reproduce itself—there is none the less even in those very +parts which constitute the main difference in outward appearance, +a striking resemblance which carries with it irresistibly the +idea of a single pattern after which all would appear to have +been conceived. The horse, for example—what can at +first sight seem more unlike mankind? Yet when we compare +man and horse point by point and detail by detail, is not our +wonder excited rather by the points of resemblance than of +difference that are to be found between them? Take the +skeleton of a man; bend forward the bones in the region of the +pelvis, shorten the thigh bones, and those of the leg and arm, +lengthen those of the feet and hands, run the joints together, +lengthen the jaws, and shorten the frontal bone, finally, +lengthen the spine, and the skeleton will now be that of a man no +longer, but will have become that of a horse—for it is easy +to imagine that in lengthening the spine and the jaws we shall at +the same time have increased the number of the vertebræ, +ribs, and teeth. It is but in the number of these bones, +which may be considered accessory, and by the lengthening, +shortening, or mode of attachment of others, that the skeleton of +the horse differs from that of the human body. . . . We find ribs +in man, in all the quadrupeds, in birds, in fishes, and we may +find traces of them as far down as the turtle, in which they seem +still to be sketched <!-- page 174--><a name="page174"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 174</span>out by means of furrows that are to +be found beneath the shell. Let it be remembered that the +foot of the horse, which seems so different from a man’s +hand, is, nevertheless, as M. Daubenton has pointed out, composed +of the same bones, and that we have at the end of each of our +fingers a nail corresponding to the hoof of a horse’s +foot. Judge, then, whether this hidden resemblance is not +more marvellous than any outward differences—whether this +constancy to a single plan of structure which we may follow from +man to the quadrupeds, from the quadrupeds to the cetacea, from +the cetacea to birds, from birds to reptiles, from reptiles to +fishes—in which all such essential parts as heart, +intestines, spine are invariably found—whether, I say, this +does not seem to indicate that the Creator when He made them +would use but a single main idea, though at the same time varying +it in every conceivable way, so that man might admire equally the +magnificence of the execution and the simplicity of the +design.” <a name="citation174"></a><a href="#footnote174" +class="citation">[174]</a></p> +<p>“If we regard the matter thus, not only the ass and the +horse, <i>but even man himself</i>, <i>the apes</i>, <i>the +quadrupeds</i>, <i>and all animals might be regarded but as +forming members of one and the same family</i>. But are we +to conclude that within this vast family which the Creator has +called into existence out of nothing, there are other and smaller +families, projected as it were by Nature, and brought forth by +her in the natural course of events and after a long time, of +which some contain but two members, as the ass and the horse, +others many members, as the weasel, martin, stoat, ferret, +&c., and that on the same principle there are families of +vegetables, containing ten, twenty, or thirty plants, as the case +may be? If such families had any real existence <!-- page +175--><a name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +175</span>they could have been formed only by crossing, by the +accumulation of successive variations (<i>variation +successive</i>), and by degeneration from an original type; but +if we once admit that there are families of plants and animals, +so that the ass may be of the family of the horse, and that the +one may only differ from the other through degeneration from a +common ancestor, we might be driven to admit that the ape is of +the family of man, that he is but a degenerate man, and that he +and man have had a common ancestor, even as the ass and horse +have had. It would follow then that every family, whether +animal or vegetable, had sprung from a single stock, which after +a succession of generations had become higher in the case of some +of its descendants and lower in that of others.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>What inference could be more aptly drawn? But it was not +one which Buffon was going to put before the general +public. He had said enough for the discerning, and +continues with what is intended to make the conclusions they +should draw even plainer to them, while it conceals them still +more carefully from the general reader.</p> +<p>“The naturalists who are so ready to establish families +among animals and vegetables, do not seem to have sufficiently +considered the consequences which should follow from their +premises, for these would limit direct creation to as small a +number of forms as any one might think fit (reduisoient le +produit immédiat de la création, àun nombre +d’individus aussi petit que l’on voudroit). +<i>For if it were once shown that we had right grounds for +establishing these families</i>; <i>if the point were once gained +that among animals and vegetables there had been</i>, <i>I do not +say several species</i>, <i>but even a single one</i>, <i>which +had been produced in the course of direct descent </i><!-- page +176--><a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +176</span><i>from another species</i>; <i>if for example it could +be once shown that the ass was but a degeneration from the +horse</i>—<i>then there is no further limit to be set to +the power of nature</i>, <i>and we should not be wrong in +supposing that with sufficient time she could have evolved all +other organised forms from one primordial type</i> (<i>et +l’on n’auroit pas tort de supposer</i>, <i>que +d’un seul être elle a su tirer avec le temps tous les +autres êtres organisés</i>).”</p> +<p>Buffon now felt that he had sailed as near the wind as was +desirable. His next sentence is as follows:—</p> +<p>“But no! It is certain <i>from revelation</i> that +all animals have alike been favoured with the grace of an act of +direct creation, and that the first pair of every species issued +full formed from the hands of the Creator.” <a +name="citation176"></a><a href="#footnote176" +class="citation">[176]</a></p> +<p>This might be taken as <i>bonâ fide</i>, if it had been +written by Bonnet, but it is impossible to accept it from +Buffon. It is only those who judge him at second hand, or +by isolated passages, who can hold that he failed to see the +consequences of his own premises. No one could have seen +more clearly, nor have said more lucidly, what should suffice to +show a sympathetic reader the conclusion he ought to come +to. Even when ironical, his irony is not the ill-natured +irony of one who is merely amusing himself at other +people’s expense, but the serious and legitimate irony of +one who must either limit the circle of those to whom he appeals, +or must know how to make the same language appeal differently to +the different capacities of his readers, and who trusts to the +good sense of the discerning to understand the difficulty of his +position and make due allowance for it.</p> +<p>The compromise which he thought fit to put before <!-- page +177--><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +177</span>the public was that “Each species has a type of +which the principal features are engraved in indelible and +eternally permanent characters, while all accessory touches +vary.” <a name="citation177a"></a><a href="#footnote177a" +class="citation">[177a]</a> It would be satisfactory to +know where an accessory touch is supposed to begin and end.</p> +<p>And again:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The essential characteristics of every +animal have been conserved without alteration in their most +important parts. . . . The individuals of each genus still +represent the same forms as they did in the earliest ages, +especially in the case of the larger animals” (so that the +generic forms even of the larger animals prove not to be the +same, but only “especially” the same as in the +earliest ages). <a name="citation177b"></a><a +href="#footnote177b" class="citation">[177b]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>This transparently illogical position is maintained ostensibly +from first to last, much in the same spirit as in the two +foregoing passages, written at intervals of thirteen years. +But they are to be read by the light of the earlier +one—placed as a lantern to the wary upon the threshold of +his work in 1753—to the effect that a single, +well-substantiated case of degeneration would make it conceivable +that all living beings were descended from but one common +ancestor. If after having led up to this by a remorseless +logic, a man is found five-and-twenty years later still +substantiating cases of degeneration, as he has been +substantiating them unceasingly in thirty quartos during the +whole interval, there should be little question how seriously we +are to take him when he wishes us to stop short of the +conclusions he has told us we ought to draw from the premises +that he has made it the business of his life to +establish—especially when we know that he has a Sorbonne to +keep a sharp eye upon him.</p> +<p><!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +178</span>I believe that if the reader will bear in mind the +twofold, serious and ironical, character of Buffon’s work +he will understand it, and feel an admiration for it which will +grow continually greater and greater the more he studies it, +otherwise he will miss the whole point.</p> +<p>Buffon on one of the early pages of his first volume protested +against the introduction of either +“<i>plaisanterie</i>” or +“<i>équivoque</i>” (p. 25) into a serious +work. But I have observed that there is an unconscious +irony in most disclaimers of this nature. When a writer +begins by saying that he has “an ineradicable tendency to +make things clear,” we may infer that we are going to be +puzzled; so when he shows that he is haunted by a sense of the +impropriety of allowing humour to intrude into his work, we may +hope to be amused as well as interested. As showing how far +the objection to humour which he expressed upon his twenty-fifth +page succeeded in carrying him safely over his twenty-sixth and +twenty-seventh, I will quote the following, which begins on page +twenty-six:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Aldrovandus is the most learned and +laborious of all naturalists; after sixty years of work he has +left an immense number of volumes behind him, which have been +printed at various times, the greater number of them after his +death. It would be possible to reduce them to a tenth part +if we could rid them of all useless and foreign matter, and of a +prolixity which I find almost overwhelming; were this only done, +his books should be regarded as among the best we have on the +subject of natural history in its entirety. The plan of his +work is good, his classification distinguished for its good +sense, his dividing lines well marked, his descriptions +sufficiently accurate—monotonous it is true, but <!-- page +179--><a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +179</span>painstaking; the historical part of his work is less +good; it is often confused and fabulous, and the author shows too +manifestly the credulous tendencies of his mind.</p> +<p>“While going over his work, I have been struck with that +defect, or rather excess, which we find in almost all the books +of a hundred or a couple of hundred years ago, and which prevails +still among the Germans—I mean with that quantity of +useless erudition with which they intentionally swell out their +works, and the result of which is that their subject is overlaid +with a mass of extraneous matter on which they enlarge with great +complacency, but with no consideration whatever for their +readers. They seem, in fact, to have forgotten what they +have to say in their endeavour to tell us what has been said by +other people.</p> +<p>“I picture to myself a man like Aldrovandus, after he +has once conceived the design of writing a complete natural +history. I see him in his library reading, one after the +other, ancients, moderns, philosophers, theologians, +jurisconsults, historians, travellers, poets, and reading with no +other end than with that of catching at all words and phrases +which can be forced from far or near into some kind of relation +with his subject. I see him copying all these passages, or +getting them copied for him, and arranging them in alphabetical +order. He fills many portfolios with all manner of notes, +often taken without either discrimination or research, and at +last sets himself to write with a resolve that not one of all +these notes shall remain unused. The result is that when he +comes to his account of the cow or of the hen, he will tell us +all that has ever yet been said about cows or hens; all that the +ancients ever thought about <!-- page 180--><a +name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 180</span>them; all +that has ever been imagined concerning their virtues, characters, +and courage; every purpose to which they have ever yet been put; +every story of every old woman that he can lay hold of; all the +miracles which certain religions have ascribed to them; all the +superstitions they have given rise to; all the metaphors and +allegories which poets have drawn from them; the attributes that +have been assigned to them; the representations that have been +made of them in hieroglyphics and armorial bearings, in a word +all the histories and all fables in which there was ever yet any +mention either of a cow or hen. How much natural history is +likely to be found in such a lumber-room? and how is one to lay +one’s hand upon the little that there may actually +be?” <a name="citation180"></a><a href="#footnote180" +class="citation">[180]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>It is hoped that the reader will see Buffon, much as Buffon +saw the learned Aldrovandus. He should see him going into +his library, &c., and quietly chuckling to himself as he +wrote such a passage as the one in which we lately found him +saying that the larger animals had “especially” the +same generic forms as they had always had. And the reader +should probably see Daubenton chuckling also.</p> +<h2><!-- page 181--><a name="page181"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 181</span>EXTRACTS FROM UNCONSCIOUS +MEMORY.</h2> +<h3>RECAPITULATION AND STATEMENT OF AN OBJECTION. (<span +class="smcap">chapter x. of unconscious memory</span>.) <a +name="citation181a"></a><a href="#footnote181a" +class="citation">[181a]</a></h3> +<p>The true theory of unconscious action is that of Professor +Hering, from whose lecture <a name="citation181b"></a><a +href="#footnote181b" class="citation">[181b]</a> it is no +strained conclusion to gather that he holds the action of all +living beings, from the moment of conception to that of fullest +development, to be founded in volition and design, though these +have been so long lost sight of that the work is now carried on, +as it were, departmentally and in due course according to an +official routine which can hardly be departed from.</p> +<p>This involves the older “Darwinism” and the theory +of Lamarck, according to which the modification of living forms +has been effected mainly through the needs of the living forms +themselves, which vary with varying conditions—the survival +of the fittest (which, as I see Mr. H. B. Baildon has just said, +“sometimes comes to mean merely the survival of the +survivors” <a name="citation181c"></a><a +href="#footnote181c" class="citation">[181c]</a>) <!-- page +182--><a name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +182</span>being taken as a matter of course. According to +this view of evolution, there is a remarkable analogy between the +development of living organs, or tools, and that of those organs +or tools external to the body which has been so rapid during the +last few thousand years.</p> +<p>Animals and plants, according to Professor Hering, are guided +throughout their development, and preserve the due order in each +step they take, through memory of the course they took on past +occasions when in the persons of their ancestors. I am +afraid I have already too often said that if this memory remains +for long periods together latent and without effect, it is +because the vibrations of the molecular substance of the body +which are its supposed explanation are during these periods too +feeble to generate action, until they are augmented in force +through an accession of similar vibrations issuing from exterior +objects; or, in other words, until recollection is stimulated by +a return of the associated ideas. On this the internal +agitation becomes so much enhanced, that equilibrium is visibly +disturbed, and the action ensues which is proper to the +vibrations of the particular substance under the particular +conditions. This, at least, is what I suppose Professor +Hering to intend.</p> +<p>Leaving the explanation of memory on one side, and confining +ourselves to the fact of memory only, a caterpillar on being just +hatched is supposed, according to this theory, to lose its memory +of the time it was in the egg, and to be stimulated by an intense +but unconscious recollection of the action taken by its ancestors +when they were first hatched. It is guided in the course it +takes by the experience it can thus command. Each step it +takes recalls a new recollection, and thus it goes through a +development as a performer performs <!-- page 183--><a +name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 183</span>a piece of +music, each bar leading his recollection to the bar that should +next follow.</p> +<p>In Life and Habit will be found examples of the manner in +which this view solves a number of difficulties for the +explanation of which the leading men of science express +themselves at a loss. The following from Professor +Huxley’s recent work upon the crayfish may serve for an +example. Professor Huxley writes:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“It is a widely received notion that the +energies of living matter have a tendency to decline and finally +disappear, and that the death of the body as a whole is a +necessary correlate of its life. That all living beings +sooner or later perish needs no demonstration, but it would be +difficult to find satisfactory grounds for the belief that they +needs must do so. The analogy of a machine, that sooner or +later must be brought to a standstill by the wear and tear of its +parts, does not hold, inasmuch as the animal mechanism is +continually renewed and repaired; and though it is true that +individual components of the body are constantly dying, yet their +places are taken by vigorous successors. A city remains +notwithstanding the constant death-rate of its inhabitants; and +such an organism as a crayfish is only a corporate unity, made up +of innumerable partially independent +individualities.”—<i>The Crayfish</i>, p. 127.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Surely the theory which I have indicated above makes the +reason plain why no organism can permanently outlive its +experience of past lives. The death of such a body +corporate as the crayfish is due to the social condition becoming +more complex than there is memory of past experience to deal +with. Hence social disruption, insubordination, and +decay. The crayfish dies as a state dies, and all states +that we have heard of die sooner or later. There are some +<!-- page 184--><a name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +184</span>savages who have not yet arrived at the conception that +death is the necessary end of all living beings, and who consider +even the gentlest death from old age as violent and abnormal; so +Professor Huxley seems to find a difficulty in seeing that though +a city commonly outlives many generations of its citizens, yet +cities and states are in the end no less mortal than +individuals. “The <i>city</i>,” he says, +“remains.” Yes, but not for ever. When +Professor Huxley can find a city that will last for ever, he may +wonder that a crayfish does not last for ever.</p> +<p>I have already here and elsewhere said all that I can yet +bring forward in support of Professor Hering’s theory; it +now remains for me to meet the most troublesome objection to it +that I have been able to think of—an objection which I had +before me when I wrote Life and Habit, but which then as now I +believe to be unsound. Seeing, however, that a plausible +case can be made out for it, I will state it and refute it +here. When I say refute it, I do not mean that I shall have +done with it—for it is plain that it opens up a vaster +question in the relations between the so-called organic and +inorganic worlds—but that I will refute the supposition +that it any way militates against Professor Hering’s +theory.</p> +<p>“Why,” it may be asked, “should we go out of +our way to invent unconscious memory—the existence of which +must at the best remain an inference <a name="citation184"></a><a +href="#footnote184" class="citation">[184]</a>—when the +observed fact that like antecedents are invariably followed by +like consequents should be sufficient for our purpose? Why +should the fact that a given kind <!-- page 185--><a +name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 185</span>of +chrysalis in a given condition will always become a butterfly +within a certain time be connected with memory when it is not +pretended that memory has anything to do with the invariableness +with which oxygen and hydrogen when mixed in certain proportions +make water?”</p> +<p>We assume confidently that if a drop of water were decomposed +into its component parts, and if these were brought together +again, and again decomposed and again brought together any number +of times over, the results would be invariably the same, whether +decomposition or combination, yet no one will refer the +invariableness of the action during each repetition, to +recollection by the gaseous molecules of the course taken when +the process was last repeated. On the contrary, we are +assured that molecules in some distant part of the world which +had never entered into such and such a known combination +themselves, nor held concert with other molecules that had been +so combined, and which, therefore, could have had no experience +and no memory, would none the less act upon one another in that +one way in which other like combinations of atoms have acted +under like circumstances, as readily as though they had been +combined and separated and recombined again a hundred or a +hundred thousand times. It is this assumption, tacitly made +by every man, beast, and plant in the universe, throughout all +time and in every action of their lives, that has made any +improvement in action possible—for it is this which lies at +the root of the power to profit by experience. I do not +exactly know <i>why</i> we make this assumption, and I cannot +find out that any one else knows much better than myself, but I +do not recommend any one to dispute it.</p> +<p><!-- page 186--><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +186</span>As we admit of no doubt concerning the main result, so +we do not suppose an alternative to lie before any atom of any +molecule at any moment during the process of combination. +This process is, in all probability, an exceedingly complicated +one, involving a multitude of actions and subordinate processes, +which follow one upon the other, and each one of which has a +beginning, a middle, and an end, though they all come to pass in +what appears to be an instant of time. Yet at no point do +we conceive of any atom as swerving ever such a little to right +or left of a determined course, but invest each one of them with +so much of the divine attributes as that with it there shall be +no variableness neither shadow of turning.</p> +<p>We attribute this regularity of action to what we call the +necessity of things, as determined by the nature of the atoms and +the circumstances in which they are placed. We say that +only one proximate result can ever arise from any given +combination. If, then, so great uniformity of action as +nothing can exceed is manifested by atoms to which no one will +impute memory, why this desire for memory, as though it were the +only way of accounting for regularity of action in living +beings? Sameness of action may be seen abundantly where +there is no room for anything that we can consistently call +memory. In these cases we say that it is due to sameness of +substance in same circumstances.</p> +<p>The most cursory reflection upon our actions will show us that +it is no more possible for living action to have more than one +set of proximate consequents at any given time than for oxygen +and hydrogen when mixed in the proportions proper for the +formation of water. Why then not recognise this fact, and +ascribe <!-- page 187--><a name="page187"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 187</span>repeated similarity of living action +to the reproduction of the necessary antecedents, with no more +sense of connection between the steps in the action, or memory of +similar action taken before, than we suppose on the part of +oxygen and hydrogen molecules between the several occasions on +which they may have been disunited and reunited?</p> +<p>A boy catches the measles not because he remembers having +caught them in the persons of his father and mother, but because +he is a fit soil for a certain kind of seed to grow upon. +In like manner he should be said to grow his nose because he is a +fit combination for a nose to spring from. Dr. X---’s +father died of <i>angina pectoris</i> at the age of forty-nine; +so did Dr. X---. Can it be pretended that Dr. X--- +remembered having died of <i>angina pectoris</i> at the age of +forty-nine when in the person of his father, and accordingly, +when he came to be forty-nine years old himself, died also? +For this to hold, Dr. X---’s father must have begotten him +after he was dead; for the son could not remember the +father’s death before it happened.</p> +<p>As for the diseases of old age, so very commonly inherited, +they are developed for the most part not only long after the +average age of reproduction, but at a time when no appreciable +amount of memory of any previous existence can remain; for a man +will not have many male ancestors who become parents at over +sixty years old, nor female ancestors who did so at over +forty. By our own showing, therefore, recollection can have +nothing to do with the matter. Yet who can doubt that gout +is due to inheritance as much as eyes and noses? In what +respects do the two things differ so that we should refer the +inheritance of eyes and noses to memory, while denying any +connection between memory <!-- page 188--><a +name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 188</span>and +gout? We may have a ghost of a pretence for saying that a +man grows a nose by rote, or even that he catches the measles or +whooping-cough by rote; but do we mean to say that he develops +the gout by rote in his old age if he comes of a gouty +family? If, then, rote and red-tape have nothing to do with +the one, why should they with the other?</p> +<p>Remember also the cases in which aged females develop male +characteristics. Here are growths, often of not +inconsiderable extent, which make their appearance during the +decay of the body, and grow with greater and greater vigour in +the extreme of old age, and even for days after death +itself. It can hardly be doubted that an especial tendency +to develop these characteristics runs as an inheritance in +certain families; here then is perhaps the best case that can be +found of a development strictly inherited, but having clearly +nothing whatever to do with memory. Why should not all +development stand upon the same footing?</p> +<p>A friend who had been arguing with me for some time as above, +concluded with the following words:—</p> +<p>“If you cannot be content with the similar action of +similar substances (living or non-living) under similar +circumstances—if you cannot accept this as an ultimate +fact, but consider it necessary to connect repetition of similar +action with memory before you can rest in it and be +thankful—be consistent, and introduce this memory which you +find so necessary into the inorganic world also. Either say +that a chrysalis becomes a butterfly because it is the thing that +it is, and, being that kind of thing, must act in such and such a +manner and in such a manner only, so that the act of one +generation has no more to do with the act of the next than the +fact of cream being churned into butter in a <!-- page 189--><a +name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 189</span>dairy one +day has to do with other cream being churnable into butter in the +following week—either say this or else develop some mental +condition—which I have no doubt you will be very well able +to do if you feel the want of it—in which you can make out +a case for saying that oxygen and hydrogen on being brought +together, and cream on being churned, are in some way acquainted +with, and mindful of, action taken by other cream, and other +oxygen and hydrogen on past occasions.”</p> +<p>I felt inclined to reply that my friend need not twit me with +being able to develop a mental organism if I felt the need of it, +for his own ingenious attack on my position, and indeed every +action of his life, was but an example of this omnipresent +principle.</p> +<p>When he was gone, however, I thought over what he had been +saying. I endeavoured to see how far I could get on without +volition and memory, and reasoned as follows:—A repetition +of like antecedents will be certainly followed by a repetition of +like consequents, whether the agents be men and women or chemical +substances. “If there be two cowards perfectly +similar in every respect, and if they be subjected in a perfectly +similar way to two terrifying agents, which are themselves +perfectly similar, there are few who will not expect a perfect +similarity in the running away, even though ten thousand years +intervene between the original combination and its +repetition.” <a name="citation189"></a><a +href="#footnote189" class="citation">[189]</a> Here +certainly there is no coming into play of memory, more than in +the pan of cream on two successive churning days, yet the action +is similar.</p> +<p>A clerk in an office has an hour in the middle of the day for +dinner. About half-past twelve he begins to <!-- page +190--><a name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +190</span>feel hungry; at one he takes down his hat and leaves +the office. He does not yet know the neighbourhood, and on +getting down into the street asks a policeman at the corner which +is the best eating-house within easy distance. The +policeman tells him of three houses, one of which is a little +farther off than the other two, but is cheaper. Money being +a greater object to him than time, the clerk decides on going to +the cheaper house. He goes, is satisfied, and returns.</p> +<p>Next day he wants his dinner at the same hour, and—it +will be said—remembering his satisfaction of yesterday, +will go to the same place as before. But what has his +memory to do with it? Suppose him to have forgotten all the +circumstances of the preceding day from the moment of his +beginning to feel hungry onward, though in other respects sound +in mind and body, and unchanged generally. At half-past +twelve he would begin to be hungry; but his beginning to be +hungry cannot be connected with his remembering having begun to +be hungry yesterday. He would begin to be hungry just as +much whether he remembered or no. At one o’clock he +again takes down his hat and leaves the office, not because he +remembers having done so yesterday, but because he wants his hat +to go out with. Being again in the street, and again +ignorant of the neighbourhood (for he remembers nothing of +yesterday), he sees the same policeman at the corner of the +street, and asks him the same question as before; the policeman +gives him the same answer, and money being still an object to +him, the cheapest eating-house is again selected; he goes there, +finds the same <i>menu</i>, makes the same choice for the same +reasons, eats, is satisfied, and returns.</p> +<p>What similarity of action can be greater than this, <!-- page +191--><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +191</span>and at the same time more incontrovertible? But +it has nothing to do with memory; on the contrary, it is just +because the clerk has no memory that his action of the second day +so exactly resembles that of the first. As long as he has +no power of recollecting, he will day after day repeat the same +actions in exactly the same way, until some external +circumstances, such as his being sent away, modify the +situation. Till this or some other modification occurs, he +will day after day go down into the street without knowing where +to go; day after day he will see the same policeman at the corner +of the same street, and (for we may as well suppose that the +policeman has no memory too) he will ask and be answered, and ask +and be answered, till he and the policeman die of old age. +This similarity of action is plainly due to that—whatever +it is—which ensures that like persons or things when placed +in like circumstances shall behave in a like manner.</p> +<p>Allow the clerk ever such a little memory, and the similarity +of action will disappear; for the fact of remembering what +happened to him on the first day he went out in search of dinner +will be a modification in him in regard to his then condition +when he next goes out to get his dinner. He had no such +memory on the first day, and he has upon the second. Some +modification of action must ensue upon this modification of the +actor, and this is immediately observable. He wants his +dinner, indeed, goes down into the street, and sees the policeman +as yesterday, but he does not ask the policeman; he remembers +what the policeman told him and what he did, and therefore goes +straight to the eating-house without wasting time: nor does he +dine off the same dish two days running, for he remembers what he +had yesterday and likes variety. If, then, similarity <!-- +page 192--><a name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +192</span>of action is rather hindered than promoted by memory, +why introduce it into such cases as the repetition of the +embryonic processes by successive generations? The embryos +of a well-fixed breed, such as the goose, are almost as much +alike as water is to water, and by consequence one goose comes to +be almost as like another as water to water. Why should it +not be supposed to become so upon the same grounds—namely, +that it is made of the same stuffs, and put together in like +proportions in the same manner?</p> +<h3><!-- page 193--><a name="page193"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 193</span>ON CYCLES. (<span +class="smcap">chapter xi. of unconscious memory</span>.)</h3> +<p>The one faith on which all normal living beings consciously or +unconsciously act, is that like antecedents will be followed by +like consequents. This is the one true and catholic faith, +undemonstrable, but except a living being believe which, without +doubt it shall perish everlastingly. In the assurance of +this all action is taken. But if this fundamental article +is admitted, it follows that if ever a complete cycle were +formed, so that the whole universe of one instant were to repeat +itself absolutely in a subsequent one, no matter after what +interval of time, then the course of the events between these two +moments would go on repeating itself for ever and ever afterwards +in due order, down to the minutest detail, in an endless series +of cycles like a circulating decimal. For the universe +comprises everything; there could therefore be no disturbance +from without. Once a cycle, always a cycle.</p> +<p>Let us suppose the earth of given weight, moving with given +momentum in a given path, and under given conditions in every +respect, to find itself at any one time conditioned in all these +respects as it was conditioned at some past moment; then it must +move exactly in the same path as the one it took when at the +beginning of the cycle it has just completed, and must therefore +in the course of time fulfil a second cycle, and therefore <!-- +page 194--><a name="page194"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +194</span>a third, and so on for ever and ever, with no more +chance of escape than a circulating decimal has, if the +circumstances have been reproduced with perfect accuracy as to +draw it into such a whirlpool.</p> +<p>We see something very like this actually happen in the yearly +revolutions of the planets round the sun. But the relations +between, we will say, the earth and the sun are not reproduced +absolutely. These relations deal only with a small part of +the universe, and even in this small part the relation of the +parts <i>inter se</i> has never yet been reproduced with the +perfection of accuracy necessary for our argument. They are +liable, moreover, to disturbance from events which may or may not +actually occur (as, for example, our being struck by a comet, or +the sun’s coming within a certain distance of another sun), +but of which, if they do occur, no one can foresee the +effects. Nevertheless the conditions have been so nearly +repeated that there is no appreciable difference in the relations +between the earth and sun on one New Year’s Day and on +another, nor is there reason for expecting such change within any +reasonable time.</p> +<p>If there is to be an eternal series of cycles involving the +whole universe, it is plain that not one single atom must be +excluded. Exclude a single molecule of hydrogen from the +ring, or vary the relative positions of two molecules only, and +the charm is broken; an element of disturbance has been +introduced, of which the utmost that can be said is that it may +not prevent the ensuing of a long series of very nearly perfect +cycles before similarity in recurrence is destroyed, but which +must inevitably prevent absolute identity of repetition. +The movement of the series becomes no longer a cycle, but spiral, +and convergent or divergent at a greater or less rate according +to circumstances.</p> +<p><!-- page 195--><a name="page195"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +195</span>We cannot conceive of all the atoms in the universe +standing twice over in absolutely the same relation each one of +them to every other. There are too many of them, and they +are too much mixed; but, as has been just said, in the planets +and their satellites we do see large groups of atoms whose +movements recur with some approach to precision. The same +holds good also with certain comets and with the sun +himself. The result is that our days and nights and seasons +follow one another with nearly perfect regularity from year to +year, and have done so for as long time as we know anything for +certain. A vast preponderance of all the action that takes +place around us is cyclical action. Within the great cycle +of the planetary revolution of our own earth, and as a +consequence thereof, we have the minor cycle of the seasons; +these generate atmospheric cycles. Water is evaporated from +the ocean and conveyed to mountain-ranges, where it is cooled, +and whence it returns again to the sea. This cycle of +events is being repeated again and again with little appreciable +variation. The tides, and winds in certain latitudes, go +round and round the world with what amounts to continuous +regularity. There are storms of wind and rain called +cyclones. In the case of these, the cycle is not very +complete, the movement, therefore, is spiral, and the tendency to +recur is comparatively soon lost. It is a common saying +that history repeats itself, so that anarchy will lead to +despotism and despotism to anarchy; every nation can point to +instances of men’s minds having gone round and round so +nearly in a perfect cycle that many revolutions have occurred +before the cessation of a tendency to recur. Lastly, in the +generation of plants and animals we have, perhaps, the most +striking and <!-- page 196--><a name="page196"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 196</span>common example of the inevitable +tendency of all action to repeat itself when it has once +proximately done so. Let only one living being have once +succeeded in producing a being like itself, and thus have +returned, so to speak, upon itself, and a series of generations +must follow of necessity, unless some matter interfere which had +no part in the original combination, and, as it may happen, kill +the first reproductive creature or all its descendants within a +few generations. If no such mishap occurs as this, and if +the recurrence of the conditions is sufficiently perfect, a +series of generations follows with as much certainty as a series +of seasons follows upon the cycle of the relations between the +earth and sun.</p> +<p>Let the first periodically recurring substance—we will +say A—be able to recur or reproduce itself, not once only, +but many times over, as A<sup>1</sup>, A<sup>2</sup>, &c.; +let A also have consciousness and a sense of self-interest, which +qualities must, <i>ex hypothesi</i>, be reproduced in each one of +its offspring; let these get placed in circumstances which differ +sufficiently to destroy the cycle in theory without doing so +practically—that is to say, to reduce the rotation to a +spiral, but to a spiral with so little deviation from perfect +cycularity as for each revolution to appear practically a cycle, +though after many revolutions the deviation becomes perceptible; +then some such differentiations of animal and vegetable life as +we actually see follow as matters of course. A<sup>1</sup> +and A<sup>2</sup> have a sense of self-interest as A had, but +they are not precisely in circumstances similar to A’s, +nor, it may be, to each other’s; they will therefore act +somewhat differently, and every living being is modified by a +change of action. Having become modified, they follow the +spirit of A’s action <!-- page 197--><a +name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 197</span>more +essentially in begetting a creature like themselves than in +begetting one like A; for the essence of A’s act was not +the reproduction of A, but the reproduction of a creature like +the one from which it sprung—that is to say, a creature +bearing traces in its body of the main influences that have +worked upon its parent.</p> +<p>Within the cycle of reproduction there are cycles upon cycles +in the life of each individual, whether animal or plant. +Observe the action of our lungs and heart, how regular it is, and +how a cycle having been once established, it is repeated many +millions of times in an individual of average health and +longevity. Remember also that it is this +periodicity—this inevitable tendency of all atoms in +combination to repeat any combination which they have once +repeated, unless forcibly prevented from doing so—which +alone renders nine-tenths of our mechanical inventions of +practical use to us. There is not internal periodicity +about a hammer or a saw, but there is in the steam-engine or +watermill when once set in motion. The actions of these +machines recur in a regular series, at regular intervals, with +the unerringness of circulating decimals.</p> +<p>When we bear in mind, then, the omnipresence of this tendency +in the world around us, the absolute freedom from exception which +attends its action, the manner in which it holds equally good +upon the vastest and the smallest scale, and the completeness of +its accord with our ideas of what must inevitably happen when a +like combination is placed in circumstances like those in which +it was placed before—when we bear in mind all this, is it +possible not to connect the facts together, and to refer cycles +of living generations to the same unalterableness in the action +of like matter under like circumstances which makes <!-- page +198--><a name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +198</span>Jupiter and Saturn revolve round the sun, or the piston +of a steam-engine move up and down as long as the steam acts upon +it?</p> +<p>But who will attribute memory to the hands of a clock, to a +piston-rod, to air or water in a storm or in course of +evaporation, to the earth and planets in their circuits round the +sun, or to the atoms of the universe, if they too be moving in a +cycle vaster than we can take account of? <a +name="citation198a"></a><a href="#footnote198a" +class="citation">[198a]</a> And if not, why introduce it +into the embryonic development of living beings, when there is +not a particle of evidence in support of its actual presence, +when regularity of action can be ensured just as well without it +as with it, and when at the best it is considered as existing +under circumstances which it baffles us to conceive, inasmuch as +it is supposed to be exercised without any conscious +recollection? Surely a memory which is exercised without +any consciousness of recollecting is only a periphrasis for the +absence of any memory at all. <a name="citation198b"></a><a +href="#footnote198b" class="citation">[198b]</a></p> +<h3><!-- page 199--><a name="page199"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 199</span>REPUTATION—MEMORY AT ONCE A +PROMOTER AND A DISTURBER OF UNIFORMITY OF ACTION AND +STRUCTURE. (<span class="smcap">chapter xii. of unconscious +memory</span>.)</h3> +<p>To meet the objections in the two foregoing chapters, I need +do little more than show that the fact of certain often inherited +diseases and developments, whether of youth or old age, being +obviously not due to a memory on the part of offspring of like +diseases and developments in the parents, does not militate +against supposing that embryonic and youthful development +generally is due to memory.</p> +<p>This is the main part of the objection; the rest resolves +itself into an assertion that there is no evidence in support of +instinct and embryonic development being due to memory, and a +contention that the necessity of each particular moment in each +particular case is sufficient to account for the facts without +the introduction of memory.</p> +<p>I will deal with these two last points briefly first. As +regards the evidence in support of the theory that instinct and +growth are due to a rapid unconscious memory of past experiences +and developments in the persons of the ancestors of the living +form in which they appear, I must refer my readers to Life and +Habit, and to the translation of Professor Hering’s lecture +given in Chapter VI. of Unconscious Memory. <!-- page +200--><a name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 200</span>I +will only repeat here that a chrysalis, we will say, is as much +one and the same person with the chrysalis of its preceding +generation, as this last is one and the same person with the egg +or caterpillar from which it sprang. You cannot deny +personal identity between two successive generations without +sooner or later denying it during the successive stages in the +single life of what we call one individual; nor can you admit +personal identity through the stages of a long and varied life +(embryonic and post-natal) without admitting it to endure through +an endless series of generations.</p> +<p>The personal identity of successive generations being +admitted, the possibility of the second of two generations +remembering what happened to it in the first is obvious. +The <i>à priori</i> objection, therefore, is removed, and +the question becomes one of fact—does the offspring act as +if it remembered?</p> +<p>The answer to this question is not only that it does so act, +but that it is not possible to account for either its development +or its early instinctive actions upon any other hypothesis than +that of its remembering, and remembering exceedingly well.</p> +<p>The only alternative is to declare with Von Hartmann that a +living being may display a vast and varied information concerning +all manner of details, and be able to perform most intricate +operations, independently of experience and practice. Once +admit knowledge independent of experience, and farewell to sober +sense and reason from that moment.</p> +<p>Firstly, then, we show that offspring has had every facility +for remembering; secondly, that it shows every appearance of +having remembered; thirdly, that no other hypothesis except +memory can be brought forward, so as to account for the phenomena +of instinct and <!-- page 201--><a name="page201"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 201</span>heredity generally, which is not +easily reducible to an absurdity. Beyond this we do not +care to go, and must allow those to differ from us who require +further evidence.</p> +<p>As regards the argument that the necessity of each moment will +account for likeness of result, without there being any need for +introducing memory, I admit that likeness of consequents is due +to likeness of antecedents, and I grant this will hold as good +with embryos as with oxygen and hydrogen gas; what will cover the +one will cover the other, for the writs of the laws common to all +matter run within the womb as freely as elsewhere; but admitting +that there are combinations into which living beings enter with a +faculty called memory which has its effects upon their conduct, +and admitting that such combinations are from time to time +repeated (as we observe in the case of a practised performer +playing a piece of music which he has committed to memory), then +I maintain that though, indeed, the likeness of one performance +to its immediate predecessor is due to likeness of the +combinations immediately preceding the two performances, yet +memory plays so important a part in both these combinations as to +make it a distinguishing feature in them, and therefore proper to +be insisted upon. We do not, for example, say that Herr +Joachim played such and such a sonata without the music, because +he was such and such an arrangement of matter in such and such +circumstances, resembling those under which he played without +music on some past occasion. This goes without saying; we +say only that he played the music by heart or by memory, as he +had often played it before.</p> +<p>To the objector that a caterpillar becomes a chrysalis <!-- +page 202--><a name="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +202</span>not because it remembers and takes the action taken by +its fathers and mothers in due course before it, but because when +matter is in such a physical and mental state as to be called +caterpillar, it must perforce assume presently such another +physical and mental state as to be called chrysalis, and that +therefore there is no memory in the case—to this objector I +rejoin that the offspring caterpillar would not have become so +like the parent as to make the next or chrysalis stage a matter +of necessity, unless both parent and offspring had been +influenced by something that we usually call memory. For it +is this very possession of a common memory which has guided the +offspring into the path taken by, and hence to a virtually same +condition with, the parent, and which guided the parent in its +turn to a state virtually identical with a corresponding state in +the existence of its own parent. To memory, therefore, the +most prominent place in the transaction is assigned rightly.</p> +<p>To deny that will guided by memory has anything to do with the +development of embryos seems like denying that a desire to +obstruct has anything to do with the recent conduct of certain +members in the House of Commons. What should we think of +one who said that the action of these gentlemen had nothing to do +with a desire to embarrass the Government, but was simply the +necessary outcome of the chemical and mechanical forces at work, +which being such and such, the action which we see is inevitable, +and has therefore nothing to do with wilful obstruction? We +should answer that there was doubtless a great deal of chemical +and mechanical action in the matter; perhaps, for aught we knew +or cared, it was all chemical and mechanical; but if so, then a +desire to obstruct <!-- page 203--><a name="page203"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 203</span>parliamentary business is involved +in certain kinds of chemical and mechanical action, and that the +kinds involving this had preceded the recent proceedings of the +members in question. If asked to prove this, we can get no +further than that such action as has been taken has never been +seen except as following after and in consequence of a desire to +obstruct; that this is our nomenclature, and that we can no more +be expected to change it than to change our mother tongue at the +bidding of a foreigner.</p> +<p>A little reflection will convince the reader that he will be +unable to deny will and memory to the embryo without at the same +time denying their existence everywhere, and maintaining that +they have no place in the acquisition of a habit, nor indeed in +any human action. He will feel that the actions, and the +relation of one action to another which he observes in embryos is +such as is never seen except in association with and as a +consequence of will and memory. He will therefore say that +it is due to will and memory. To say that these are the +necessary outcome of certain antecedents is not to destroy them: +granted that they are—a man does not cease to be a man when +we reflect that he has had a father and mother, neither do will +and memory cease to be will and memory on the ground that they +cannot come causeless. They are manifest minute by minute +to the perception of all people who can keep out of lunatic +asylums, and this tribunal, though not infallible, is +nevertheless our ultimate court of appeal—the final +arbitrator in all disputed cases.</p> +<p>We must remember that there is no action, however original or +peculiar, which is not in respect of far the greater number of +its details founded upon memory. If a desperate man blows +his brains out—an action which he can do once in a lifetime +only, and which <!-- page 204--><a name="page204"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 204</span>none of his ancestors can have done +before leaving offspring—still nine hundred and ninety-nine +thousandths of the movements necessary to achieve his end consist +of habitual movements—movements, that is to say, which were +once difficult, but which have been practised and practised by +the help of memory until they are now performed +automatically. We can no more have an action than a +creative effort of the imagination cut off from memory. +Ideas and actions seem almost to resemble matter and force in +respect of the impossibility of originating or destroying them; +nearly all that are, are memories of other ideas and actions, +transmitted but not created, disappearing but not perishing.</p> +<p>It appears, then, that when in Chapter X. we supposed the +clerk who wanted his dinner to forget on a second day the action +he had taken the day before, we still, without perhaps perceiving +it, supposed him to be guided by memory in all the details of his +action, such as his taking down his hat and going out into the +street. We could not, indeed, deprive him of all memory +without absolutely paralysing his action.</p> +<p>Nevertheless new ideas, new faiths, and new actions do in the +course of time come about, the living expressions of which we may +see in the new forms of life which from time to time have arisen +and are still arising, and in the increase of our own knowledge +and mechanical inventions. But it is only a very little new +that is added at a time, and that little is generally due to the +desire to attain an end which cannot be attained by any of the +means for which there exists a perceived precedent in the +memory. When this is the case, either the memory is further +ransacked for any forgotten shreds of details a combination of +which may serve the desired purpose; or action is taken in the +<!-- page 205--><a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +205</span>dark, which sometimes succeeds and becomes a fertile +source of further combinations; or we are brought to a dead +stop. All action is random in respect of any of the minute +actions which compose it that are not done in consequence of +memory, real or supposed. So that random, or action taken +in the dark, or illusion, lies at the very root of progress.</p> +<p>I will now consider the objection that the phenomena of +instinct and embryonic development ought not to be ascribed to +memory, inasmuch as certain other phenomena of heredity, such as +gout, cannot be ascribed to it.</p> +<p>Those who object in this way forget that our actions fall into +two main classes: those which we have often repeated before by +means of a regular series of subordinate actions beginning and +ending at a certain tolerably well-defined point—as when +Herr Joachim plays a sonata in public, or when we dress or +undress ourselves; and actions the details of which are indeed +guided by memory, but which in their general scope and purpose +are new—as when we are being married, or presented at +court.</p> +<p>At each point in any action of the first of the two kinds +above referred to there is a memory (conscious or unconscious +according to the less or greater number of times the action has +been repeated), not only of the steps in the present and previous +performances which have led up to the particular point that may +be selected, <i>but also of the particular point itself</i>; +there is therefore, at each point in a habitual performance, a +memory at once of like antecedents <i>and of a like +present</i>.</p> +<p>If the memory, whether of the antecedent or the present, were +absolutely perfect; that is to say, if the vibrations in the +nervous system (or, if the reader likes <!-- page 206--><a +name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 206</span>it better, +if the molecular change in the particular nerves +affected—for molecular change is only a change in the +character of the vibrations going on within the +molecules—it is nothing else than this)—it the +vibrations in the particular nerves affected by any occurrence +continued on each fresh repetition of the occurrence in their +full original strength and without having been interfered with by +any other vibrations; and if, again, the new waves running into +the faint old ones from exterior objects and restoring the lapsed +molecular state of the nerves to a pristine condition were +absolutely identical in character on each repetition of the +occurrence with the waves that ran in upon the last occasion, +then there would be no change in the action, and no modification +or improvement could take place. For though indeed the +latest performance would always have one memory more than the +latest but one to guide it, yet the memories being identical, it +would not matter how many or how few they were.</p> +<p>On any repetition, however, the circumstances, external or +internal, or both, never are absolutely identical: there is some +slight variation in each individual case, and some part of this +variation is remembered, with approbation or disapprobation as +the case may be.</p> +<p>The fact, therefore, that on each repetition of the action +there is one memory more than on the last but one, and that this +memory is slightly different from its predecessor, is seen to be +an inherent and, <i>ex hypothesi</i>, necessarily disturbing +factor in all habitual action—and the life of an organism +should, as has been sufficiently insisted on, be regarded as the +habitual action of a single individual, namely, of the organism +itself, and of its ancestors. This is the key to +accumulation of improvement, whether in the arts which we +assiduously <!-- page 207--><a name="page207"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 207</span>practise during our single life, or +in the structures and instincts of successive generations. +The memory does not complete a true circle, but is, as it were, a +spiral slightly divergent therefrom. It is no longer a +perfectly circulating decimal. Where, on the other hand, +there is no memory of a like present, where, in fact, the memory +is not, so to speak, spiral, there is no accumulation of +improvement. The effect of any variation is not +transmitted, and is not thus pregnant of still further +change.</p> +<p>As regards the second of the two classes of actions above +referred to—those, namely which are not recurrent or +habitual, <i>and at no point of which is there a memory of a past +present like the one which is present now</i>—there will +have been no accumulation of strong and well-knit memory as +regards the action as a whole, but action, if taken at all, will +be taken upon disjointed fragments of individual actions (our own +and those of other people) pieced together with a result more or +less satisfactory according to circumstances.</p> +<p>But it does not follow that the action of two people who have +had tolerably similar antecedents and are placed in tolerably +similar circumstances should be more unlike each other in this +second case than in the first. On the contrary, nothing is +more common than to observe the same kind of people making the +same kind of mistake when placed for the first time in the same +kind of new circumstances. I did not say that there would +be no sameness of action without memory of a like present. +There may be sameness of action proceeding from a memory, +conscious or unconscious, of like antecedents, and <i>a presence +only of like presents without recollection of the same</i>.</p> +<p>The sameness of action of like persons placed under <!-- page +208--><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>like circumstances for the first time, resembles the +sameness of action of inorganic matter under the same +combinations. Let us for a moment suppose what we call +non-living substances to be capable of remembering their +antecedents, and that the changes they undergo are the +expressions of their recollections. Then I admit, of +course, that there is not memory in any cream, we will say, that +is about to be churned of the cream of the preceding week, but +the common absence of such memory from each week’s cream is +an element of sameness between the two. And though no cream +can remember having been churned before, yet all cream in all +time has had nearly identical antecedents, and has therefore +nearly the same memories and nearly the same proclivities. +Thus, in fact, the cream of one week is as truly the same as the +cream of another; week from the same cow, pasture, &c., as +anything is ever the same with anything; for the having been +subjected to like antecedents engenders the closest similarity +that we can conceive of, if the substances were like to start +with. Same is as same does.</p> +<p>The manifest absence of any connecting memory (or memory of +like presents) from certain of the phenomena of heredity, such +as, for example, the diseases of old age, is now seen to be no +valid reason for saying that such other and far more numerous and +important phenomena as those of embryonic development are not +phenomena of memory. Growth and the diseases of old age do +indeed, at first sight, appear to stand on the same +footing. The question, however, whether certain results are +due to memory or no must be settled not by showing that two +combinations, neither of which can remember the other (as between +each other), may yet generate like results, and therefore, +considering the <!-- page 209--><a name="page209"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 209</span>memory theory disposed of for all +other cases, but by the evidence we may be able to adduce in any +particular case that the second agent has actually remembered the +conduct of the first. Such evidence must show firstly that +the second agent cannot be supposed able to do what it is plain +he can do, except under the guidance of memory or experience, and +secondly, that the second agent has had every opportunity of +remembering. When the first of these tests fails, +similarity of action on the part of two agents need not be +connected with memory of a like present as well as of like +antecedents; when both fail, similarity of action should be +referred to memory of like antecedents only.</p> +<p>Returning to a parenthesis a few pages back, in which I said +that consciousness of memory would be less or greater according +to the greater or fewer number of times that the act had been +repeated, it may be observed as a corollary to this, that the +less consciousness of memory the greater the uniformity of +action, and <i>vice versâ</i>. For the less +consciousness involves the memory’s being more perfect, +through a larger number (generally) of repetitions of the act +that is remembered; there is therefore a less proportionate +difference in respect of the number of recollections of this +particular act between the most recent actor and the most recent +but one. This is why very old civilisations, as those of +many insects, and the greater number of now living organisms, +appear to the eye not to change at all.</p> +<p>For example, if an action has been performed only ten times, +we will say by A, B, C, &c, who are similar in all respects, +except that A acts without recollection, B with recollection of +A’s action, C with recollection of both B’s and +A’s, while J remembers the course taken by A, B, C, D, E, +F, G, H, and I—the possession of a <!-- page 210--><a +name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 210</span>memory by B +will indeed so change his action, as compared with A’s, +that it may well be hardly recognisable. We saw this in our +example of the clerk who asked the policeman the way to the +eating-house on one day, but did not ask him the next, because he +remembered; but C’s action will not be so different from +B’s as B’s from A’s, for though C will act with +a memory of two occasions on which the action has been performed, +while B recollects only the original performance by A, yet B and +C both act with the guidance of a memory and experience of some +kind, while A acted without any. Thus the clerk referred to +in Chapter X. will act on the third day much as he acted on the +second—that is to say, he will see the policeman at the +corner of the street, but will not question him.</p> +<p>When the action is repeated by J for the tenth time, the +difference between J’s repetition of it and I’s will +be due solely to the difference between a recollection of nine +past performances by J against only eight by I, and this is so +much proportionately less than the difference between a +recollection of two performances and of only one, that a less +modification of action should be expected. At the same time +consciousness concerning an action repeated for the tenth time +should be less acute than on the first repetition. Memory, +therefore, though tending to disturb similarity of action less +and less continually, must always cause some disturbance. +At the same time the possession of a memory on the successive +repetitions of an action after the first, and, perhaps, the first +two or three, during which the recollection may be supposed still +imperfect, will tend to ensure uniformity, for it will be one of +the elements of sameness in the agents—they both acting by +the light of experience and memory.</p> +<p><!-- page 211--><a name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +211</span>During the embryonic stages and in childhood we are +almost entirely under the guidance of a practised and powerful +memory of circumstances which have been often repeated, not only +in detail and piecemeal, but as a whole, and under many slightly +varying conditions; thus the performance has become well averaged +and matured in its arrangements, so as to meet all ordinary +emergencies. We therefore act with great unconsciousness +and vary our performances little. Babies are much more +alike than persons of middle age.</p> +<p>Up to the average age at which our ancestors have had children +during many generations, we are still guided in great measure by +memory; but the variations in external circumstances begin to +make themselves perceptible in our characters. In middle +life we live more and more continually upon the piecing together +of details of memory drawn from our personal experience, that is +to say, upon the memory of our own antecedents; and this +resembles the kind of memory we hypothetically attached to cream +a little time ago. It is not surprising, then, that a son +who has inherited his father’s tastes and constitution, and +who lives much as his father had done, should make the same +mistakes as his father did when he reaches his father’s +age—we will say of seventy—though he cannot possibly +remember his father’s having made the mistakes. It +were to be wished we could, for then we might know better how to +avoid gout, cancer, or what not. And it is to be noticed +that the developments of old age are generally things we should +be glad enough to avoid if we knew how to do so.</p> +<h3><!-- page 212--><a name="page212"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 212</span>CONCLUSION. (<span +class="smcap">chapter xiii. of unconscious memory</span>.)</h3> +<p>If we observed the resemblance between successive generations +to be as close as that between distilled water and distilled +water through all time, and if we observed that perfect +unchangeableness in the action of living beings which we see in +what we call chemical and mechanical combinations, we might +indeed suspect that memory had as little place among the causes +of their action as it can have in anything, and that each +repetition, whether of a habit or the practice of art, or of an +embryonic process in successive generations, was as original as +the “Origin of Species” itself, for all that memory +had to do with it. I submit, however, that in the case of +the reproductive forms of life we see just so much variety, in +spite of uniformity, as is consistent with a repetition involving +not only a nearly perfect similarity in the agents and their +circumstances, but also the little departure therefrom that is +inevitably involved in the supposition that a memory of like +presents as well as of like antecedents (as distinguished from a +memory of like antecedents only) has played a part in their +development—a cyclical memory, if the expression may be +pardoned.</p> +<p>There is life infinitely lower and more minute than any which +our most powerful microscopes reveal to us, <!-- page 213--><a +name="page213"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 213</span>but let us +leave this upon one side and begin with the amœba. +Let us suppose that this “structureless” morsel of +protoplasm is, for all its “structurelessness,” +composed of an infinite number of living molecules, each one of +them with hopes and fears of its own, and all dwelling together +like Tekke Turcomans, of whom we read that they live for plunder +only, and that each man of them is entirely independent, +acknowledging no constituted authority, but that some among them +exercise a tacit and undefined influence over the others. +Let us suppose these molecules capable of memory, both in their +capacity as individuals and as societies, and able to transmit +their memories to their descendants from the traditions of the +dimmest past to the experiences of their own lifetime. Some +of these societies will remain simple, as having had no history, +but to the greater number unfamiliar, and therefore striking, +incidents will from time to time occur, which, when they do not +disturb memory so greatly as to kill, will leave their impression +upon it. The body or society will remember these incidents +and be modified by them in its conduct, and therefore more or +less in its internal arrangements, which will tend inevitably to +specialisation. This memory of the most striking events of +varied lifetimes I maintain, with Professor Hering, to be the +differentiating cause, which, accumulated in countless +generations, has led up from the amœba to man. If +there had been no such memory, the amœba of one generation +would have exactly resembled the amœba of the preceding, +and a perfect cycle would have been established; the modifying +effects of an additional memory in each generation have made the +cycle into a spiral, and into a spiral whose eccentricities, in +the outset hardly perceptible, is becoming <!-- page 214--><a +name="page214"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 214</span>greater and +greater with increasing longevity and more complex social and +mechanical inventions.</p> +<p>We say that the chicken grows the horny tip to its beak with +which it ultimately pecks its way out of its shell, because it +remembers having grown it before, and the use it made of +it. We say that it made it on the same principles as a man +makes a spade or a hammer, that is to say, as the joint result +both of desire and experience. When I say experience, I +mean, experience not only of what will be wanted, but also of the +details of all the means that must be taken in order to effect +this. Memory, therefore, is supposed to guide the chicken +not only in respect of the main design, but in respect also of +every atomic action, so to speak, which goes to make up the +execution of this design. It is not only the suggestion of +a plan which is due to memory, but, as Professor Hering has so +well said, it is the binding power of memory which alone renders +any consolidation or coherence of action possible, inasmuch as +without this no action could have parts subordinate one to +another, yet bearing upon a common end; no part of an action, +great or small, could have reference to any other part, much less +to a combination of all the parts; nothing, in fact, but ultimate +atoms of actions could ever happen—these bearing the same +relation to such an action, we will say, as a railway journey +from London to Edinburgh as a single molecule of hydrogen to a +gallon of water.</p> +<p>If asked how it is that the chicken shows no sign of +consciousness concerning this design, nor yet of the steps it is +taking to carry it out, we reply that such unconsciousness is +usual in all cases where an action, and the design which prompts +it, have been repeated exceedingly often. If, again, we are +asked how we <!-- page 215--><a name="page215"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 215</span>account for the regularity with +which each step is taken in its due order, we answer that this +too is characteristic of actions that are done +habitually—they being very rarely misplaced in respect of +any part.</p> +<p>When I wrote Life and Habit, I had arrived at the conclusion +that memory was the most essential characteristic of life, and +went so far as to say, “Life is that property of matter +whereby it can remember—matter which can remember is +living.” I should perhaps have written, “Life +is the being possessed of a memory—the life of a thing at +any moment is the memories which at that moment it +retains;” and I would modify the words that immediately +follow, namely, “Matter which cannot remember is +dead;” for they imply that there is such a thing as matter +which cannot remember anything at all, and this on fuller +consideration I do not believe to be the case; I can conceive of +no matter which is not able to remember a little, and which is +not living in respect of what it can remember. I do not see +how action of any kind (chemical as much as vital) is conceivable +without the supposition that every atom retains a memory of +certain antecedents. I cannot, however, at this point, +enter upon the reasons which have compelled me to join the many +who are now adopting this conclusion. Whether these would +be deemed sufficient or no, at any rate we cannot believe that a +system of self-reproducing associations should develop from the +simplicity of the amœba to the complexity of the human body +without the presence of that memory which can alone account at +once for the resemblances and the differences between successive +generations, for the arising and the accumulation of +divergences—<!-- page 216--><a name="page216"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 216</span>for the tendency to differ and the +tendency not to differ.</p> +<p>At parting, therefore, I would recommend the reader to see +every atom in the universe as living and able to feel and to +remember, but in a humble way. He must have life eternal, +as well as matter eternal; and the life and the matter must be +joined together inseparably as body and soul to one +another. Thus he will see God everywhere, not as those who +repeat phrases conventionally, but as people who would have their +words taken according to their most natural and legitimate +meaning; and he will feel that the main difference between him +and many of those who oppose him lies in the fact that whereas +both he and they use the same language, his opponents only half +mean what they say, while he means it entirely.</p> +<p>The attempt to get a higher form of a life from a lower one is +in accordance with our observation and experience. It is +therefore proper to be believed. The attempt to get it from +that which has absolutely no life is like trying to get something +out of nothing. The millionth part of a farthing put out to +interest at ten per cent. will in five hundred years become over +a million pounds, and so long as we have any millionth of a +millionth of the farthing to start with, our getting as many +million pounds as we have a fancy for is only a question of time, +but without the initial millionth of a millionth of a millionth +part, we shall get no increment whatever. A little leaven +will leaven the whole lump, but there must be <i>some</i> +leaven.</p> +<p>We should endeavour to see the so-called inorganic as living, +in respect of the qualities it has in common with the organic, +rather than the organic as non-living in respect of the qualities +it has in common with the <!-- page 217--><a +name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +217</span>inorganic. True, it would be hard to place +one’s self on the same moral platform as a stone, but this +is not necessary; it is enough that we should feel the stone to +have a moral platform of its own, though that platform embraces +little more than a profound respect for the laws of gravitation, +chemical affinity, &c. As for the difficulty of +conceiving a body as living that has not got a reproductive +system—we should remember that neuter insects are living +but are believed to have no reproductive system. Again, we +should bear in mind that mere assimilation involves all the +essentials of reproduction, and that both air and water possess +this power in a very high degree. The essence of a +reproductive system, then, is found low down in the scheme of +nature.</p> +<p>At present our leading men of science are in this difficulty; +on the one hand their experiments and their theories alike teach +them that spontaneous generation ought not to be accepted; on the +other, they must have an origin for the life of the living forms, +which, by their own theory, have been evolved, and they can at +present get this origin in no other way than by <i>Deus ex +machinâ</i> method, which they reject as unproved, or +spontaneous generation of living from non-living matter, which is +no less foreign to their experience. As a general rule, +they prefer the latter alternative. So Professor Tyndall, +in his celebrated article (<i>Nineteenth Century</i>, November +1878), wrote:—</p> +<p>“The theory of evolution in its complete form involves +the assumption that at some period or other of the earth’s +history there occurred what would be now called +‘spontaneous generation.’” <a +name="citation217"></a><a href="#footnote217" +class="citation">[217]</a> And so Professor +Huxley—</p> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 218--><a name="page218"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 218</span>“It is argued that a belief in +abiogenesis is a necessary corollary from the doctrine of +Evolution. This may be” [which I submit is equivalent +here to “is”] “true of the occurrence of +abiogenesis at some time.” <a name="citation218"></a><a +href="#footnote218" class="citation">[218]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Professor Huxley goes on to say that however this may be, +abiogenesis (or spontaneous generation) is not respectable and +will not do at all now. There may have been one case once; +this may be winked at, but it must not occur again. +“It is enough,” he writes, “that a single +particle of living protoplasm should once have appeared on the +globe as the result of no matter what agency. In the eyes +of a consistent [!] evolutionist any further [!] independent +formation of protoplasm would be sheer waste”—and the +sooner the Almighty gets to understand that He must not make that +single act of special creation into a precedent the better for +Him.</p> +<p>Professor Huxley, in fact, excuses the single case of +spontaneous generation which he appears to admit, because however +illegitimate, it was still “only a very little one,” +and came off a long time ago in a foreign country. For my +own part I think it will prove in the end more convenient if we +say that there is a low kind of livingness in every atom of +matter, and adopt Life eternal as no less inevitable a conclusion +than matter eternal.</p> +<p>It should not be doubted that wherever there is vibration or +motion there is life and memory, and that there is vibration and +motion at all times in all things. The reader who takes the +above position will find that he can explain the entry of what he +calls death among what he calls the living, whereas he could by +<!-- page 219--><a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +219</span>no means introduce life into his system if he started +without it. Death is deducible; life is not +deducible. Death is a change of memories; it is not the +destruction of all memory. It is as the liquidation of one +company each member of which will presently join a new one, and +retain a trifle even of the old cancelled memory, by way of +greater aptitude for working in concert with other +molecules. This is why animals feed on grass and on each +other, and cannot proselytise or convert the rude ground before +it has been tutored in the first principles of the higher kinds +of association.</p> +<p>Again, I would recommend the reader to beware of believing +anything in this book unless he either likes it, or feels angry +at being told it. If required belief in this or that makes +a man angry, I suppose he should, as a general rule, swallow it +whole then and there upon the spot, otherwise he may take it or +leave it as he likes.</p> +<p>I have not gone far for my facts, nor yet far from them; all +on which I rest are as open to the reader as to me. If I +have sometimes used hard terms, the probability is that I have +not understood them, but have done so by a slip, as one who has +caught a bad habit from the company he has been lately +keeping. They should be skipped.</p> +<p>Do not let the reader be too much cast down by the bad +language with which professional scientists obscure the issue, +nor by their seeming to make it their business to fog us under +the pretext of removing our difficulties. It is not the +ratcatcher’s interest to catch all the rats; and, as Handel +observed so sensibly, “Every professional gentleman must do +his best for to live.” The art of some of our +philosophers, however, is sufficiently <!-- page 220--><a +name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +220</span>transparent, and consists too often in saying +“organism which . . . must be classified among +fishes,” <a name="citation220a"></a><a href="#footnote220a" +class="citation">[220a]</a> instead of “fish” and +then proclaiming that they have “an ineradicable tendency +to try to make things clear.” <a name="citation220b"></a><a +href="#footnote220b" class="citation">[220b]</a></p> +<p>If another example is required, here is the following from an +article than which I have seen few with which I more completely +agree, or which have given me greater pleasure. If our men +of science would take to writing in this way, we should be glad +enough to follow them. The passage I refer to runs +thus:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Professor Huxley speaks of a ‘verbal +fog by which the question at issue may be hidden;’ is there +no verbal fog in the statement that <i>the ætiology of +crayfishes resolves itself into a gradual evolution in the course +of the mesozoic and subsequent epochs of the world’s +history of these animals from a primitive astacomorphous +form</i>? Would it be fog or light that would envelop the +history of man if we say that the existence of man was explained +by the hypothesis of his gradual evolution from a primitive +anthropomorphous form? I should call this fog, not +light.” <a name="citation220c"></a><a href="#footnote220c" +class="citation">[220c]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Especially let him mistrust those who are holding forth about +protoplasm, and maintaining that this is the only living +substance. Protoplasm may be, and perhaps is, the +<i>most</i> living part of an organism, as the most capable of +retaining vibrations, of a certain character, but this is the +utmost that can be claimed for it. I have noticed, however, +that protoplasm has not been buoyant lately in the scientific +market.</p> +<p>Having mentioned protoplasm, I may ask the reader to note the +breakdown of that school of philosophy <!-- page 221--><a +name="page221"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 221</span>which +divided the <i>ego</i> from the <i>non ego</i>. The +protoplasmists, on the one hand, are whittling away at +<i>ego</i>, till they have reduced it to a little jelly in +certain parts of the body, and they will whittle away this too +presently, if they go on as they are doing now.</p> +<p>Others, again, are so unifying the <i>ego</i> and the <i>non +ego</i>, that with them there will soon be as little of the +<i>non ego</i> left as there is of the <i>ego</i> with their +opponents. Both, however, are so far agreed as that we know +not where to draw the line between the two, and this renders +nugatory any system which is founded upon a distinction between +them.</p> +<p>The truth is, that all classification whatever, when we +examine its <i>raison d’être</i> closely, is found to +be arbitrary—to depend on our sense of our own convenience, +and not on any inherent distinction in the nature of the things +themselves. Strictly speaking, there is only one thing and +one action. The universe, or God, and the action of the +universe as a whole.</p> +<p>Lastly, I may predict with some certainty that before long we +shall find the original Darwinism of Dr. Erasmus Darwin (with an +infusion of Professor Hering into the bargain) generally accepted +instead of the neo-Darwinism of to-day, and that the variations +whose accumulation results in species will be recognised as due +to the wants and endeavours of the living forms in which they +appear, instead of being ascribed to chance, or, in other words, +to unknown causes, as by Mr. Charles Darwin’s system. +We shall have some idyllic young naturalists bringing up Dr. +Erasmus Darwin’s note on <i>Trapa natans</i> <a +name="citation221"></a><a href="#footnote221" +class="citation">[221]</a> and Lamarck’s kindred passage on +the descent of <i>Ranunculus hederaceus</i> from <!-- page +222--><a name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +222</span><i>Ranunculus aquatilis</i> <a +name="citation222a"></a><a href="#footnote222a" +class="citation">[222a]</a> as fresh discoveries, and be told +with much happy simplicity, that those animals and plants which +have felt the need of such a structure have developed it, while +those which have not wanted it have gone without it. Thus +it will be declared, every leaf we see around us, every structure +of the minutest insect, will bear witness to the truth of the +“great guess” of the greatest of naturalists +concerning the memory of living matter. <a +name="citation222b"></a><a href="#footnote222b" +class="citation">[222b]</a></p> +<p>I dare say the public will not object to this, and am very +sure that none of the admirers of Mr. Charles Darwin or Mr. +Wallace will protest against it; but it may be as well to point +out that this was not the view of the matter taken by Mr. Wallace +in 1858 when he and Mr. Darwin first came forward as preachers of +natural selection. At that time Mr. Wallace saw clearly +enough the difference between the theory of “natural +selection” and that of Lamarck. He wrote:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The hypothesis of Lamarck—that +progressive changes in species have been produced by the attempts +of animals to increase the development of their own organs and +thus modify their structure and habits—has been repeatedly +and easily refuted by all writers on the subject of varieties and +species, . . . but the view here developed renders such a +hypothesis quite unnecessary . . . The powerful retractile +talons of the falcon and the cat tribes have not been produced or +increased by the volition of those animals, . . . neither did the +giraffe acquire its long neck by desiring to reach the foliage of +the more lofty shrubs, and constantly stretching its neck <!-- +page 223--><a name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +223</span>for this purpose, but because any varieties which +occurred among its antitypes with a longer neck than usual <i>at +once secured a fresh range of pasture over the same ground as +their short-necked companions</i>, <i>and on the first scarcity +of food were thereby enabled to outlive them</i>” (italics +in original). <a name="citation223a"></a><a href="#footnote223a" +class="citation">[223a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is absolutely the neo-Darwin doctrine, and a denial of +the mainly fortuitous character of the variations in animal and +vegetable forms cuts at its root. That Mr. Wallace, after +years of reflection, still adhered to this view, is proved by his +heading a reprint of the paragraph just quoted from <a +name="citation223b"></a><a href="#footnote223b" +class="citation">[223b]</a> with the words “Lamarck’s +hypothesis very different from that now advanced;” nor do +any of his more recent works show that he has modified his +opinion. It should be noted that Mr. Wallace does not call +his work Contributions to the Theory of Evolution, but to that of +Natural Selection.</p> +<p>Mr. Darwin, with characteristic caution, only commits himself +to saying that Mr. Wallace has arrived at <i>almost</i> (italics +mine) the same general conclusions as he, Mr. Darwin, has done; +<a name="citation223c"></a><a href="#footnote223c" +class="citation">[223c]</a> but he still, as in 1859, declares +that it would be “a serious error to suppose that the +greater number of instincts have been acquired by habit in one +generation and then transmitted by inheritance to succeeding +generations,” <a name="citation223d"></a><a +href="#footnote223d" class="citation">[223d]</a> and he still +<!-- page 224--><a name="page224"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +224</span>comprehensively condemns the “well-known doctrine +of inherited habit, as advanced by Lamarck.” <a +name="citation224"></a><a href="#footnote224" +class="citation">[224]</a></p> +<p>As for the statement in the passage quoted from Mr. Wallace, +to the effect that Lamarck’s hypothesis “has been +repeatedly and easily refuted by all writers on the subject of +varieties and species,” it is a very surprising one. +I have searched Evolution literature in vain for any refutation +of the Erasmus Darwinian system (for this is what Lamarck’s +hypothesis really is), which need make the defenders of that +system at all uneasy. The best attempt at an answer to +Erasmus Darwin that has yet been made is Paley’s Natural +Theology, which was throughout obviously written to meet Buffon +and the Zoonomia. It is the manner of theologians to say +that such and such an objection “has been refuted over and +over again,” without at the same time telling us when and +where; it is to be regretted that Mr. Wallace has here taken a +leaf out of the theologians’ book. His statement is +one which will not pass muster with those whom public opinion is +sure in the end to follow.</p> +<p>Did Mr. Herbert Spencer, for example, “repeatedly and +easily refute” Lamarck’s hypothesis in his brilliant +article in the <i>Leader</i>, March 20, 1852? On the +contrary, that article is expressly directed against those +“who cavalierly reject the hypothesis of Lamarck and his +followers.” This article was written six years before +the words last quoted from Mr. Wallace; how absolutely, however, +does the word “cavalierly” apply to them!</p> +<p>Does Isidore Geoffrey, again, bear Mr. Wallace’s +assertion out better? In 1859—that is to say but a +short time after Mr. Wallace had written—he wrote as +follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p><!-- page 225--><a name="page225"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 225</span>“Such was the language which +Lamarck heard during his protracted old age, saddened alike by +the weight of years and blindness; this was what people did not +hesitate to utter over his grave yet barely closed, and what +indeed they are still saying—commonly too without any +knowledge of what Lamarck maintained, but merely repeating at +secondhand bad caricatures of his teaching.</p> +<p>“When will the time come when we may see Lamarck’s +theory discussed—and, I may as well at once say, refuted in +some important points <a name="citation225a"></a><a +href="#footnote225a" class="citation">[225a]</a>—with at +any rate the respect due to one of the most illustrious masters +of our science? And when will this theory, the hardihood of +which has been greatly exaggerated, become freed from the +interpretations and commentaries by the false light of which so +many naturalists have followed their opinion concerning it? +If its author is to be condemned, let it be, at any rate, not +before he has been heard.” <a name="citation225b"></a><a +href="#footnote225b" class="citation">[225b]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>In 1873 M. Martin published his edition of Lamarck’s +<i>Philosophic Zoologique</i>. He was still able to say, +with, I believe, perfect truth, that Lamarck’s theory has +“never yet had the honour of being discussed +seriously.” <a name="citation225c"></a><a +href="#footnote225c" class="citation">[225c]</a></p> +<p>Professor Huxley in his article on Evolution is no less +cavalier than Mr. Wallace. He writes: <a +name="citation225d"></a><a href="#footnote225d" +class="citation">[225d]</a>—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Lamarck introduced the conception of the +action of an animal on itself as a factor in producing +modification.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Lamarck did nothing of the kind. It was Buffon and Dr. +Darwin who introduced this, but more especially Dr. Darwin. +The accuracy of Professor <!-- page 226--><a +name="page226"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +226</span>Huxley’s statements about the history and +literature of evolution is like the direct interference of the +Deity—it vanishes whenever and wherever I have occasion to +test it.</p> +<p>“But <i>a little consideration showed</i>” +(italics mine) “that though Lamarck had seized what, as far +as it goes, is a true cause of modification, it is a cause the +actual effects of which are wholly inadequate to account for any +considerable modification in animals, and which can have no +influence whatever in the vegetable world,” &c.</p> +<p>I should be very glad to come across some of the “little +consideration” which will show this. I have searched +for it far and wide, and have never been able to find it.</p> +<p>I think Professor Huxley has been exercising some of his +ineradicable tendency to try to make things clear in the article +on Evolution, already so often quoted from. We find him (p. +750) pooh-poohing Lamarck, yet on the next page he says, +“How far ‘natural selection’ suffices for the +production of species remains to be seen.” And this +when “natural selection” was already so nearly of +age! Why, to those who know how to read between a +philosopher’s lines the sentence comes to very nearly the +same as a declaration that the writer has no great opinion of +“natural selection.” Professor Huxley +continues, “Few can doubt that, if not the whole cause, it +is a very important factor in that operation.” A +philosopher’s words should be weighed carefully, and when +Professor Huxley says, “few can doubt,” we must +remember that he may be including himself among the few whom he +considers to have the power of doubting on this matter. He +does not say “few will,” but “few <!-- page +227--><a name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +227</span>can” doubt, as though it were only the +enlightened who would have the power of doing so. Certainly +“nature”—for that is what “natural +selection” comes to—is rather an important factor in +the operation, but we do not gain much by being told so. If +however, Professor Huxley neither believes in the origin of +species, through sense of need on the part of animals themselves, +nor yet in “natural selection,” we should be glad to +know what he does believe in.</p> +<p>The battle is one of greater importance than appears at first +sight. It is a battle between teleology and non-teleology, +between the purposiveness and the non-purposiveness of the organs +in animal and vegetable bodies. According to Erasmus +Darwin, Lamarck, and Paley, organs are purposive; according to +Mr. Darwin and his followers, they are not purposive. But +the main arguments against the system of Dr. Erasmus Darwin are +arguments which, so far as they have any weight, tell against +evolution generally. Now that these have been disposed of, +and the prejudice against evolution has been overcome, it will be +seen that there is nothing to be said against the system of +Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck which does not tell with far greater +force against that of Mr. Charles Darwin and Mr. Wallace.</p> +<h2><!-- page 228--><a name="page228"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 228</span>REMARKS ON MR. ROMANES’ MENTAL +EVOLUTION IN ANIMALS. <a name="citation228a"></a><a +href="#footnote228a" class="citation">[228a]</a></h2> +<p>I have said on page 96 of this book that the word +“heredity” may be a very good way of stating the +difficulty which meets us when we observe the reappearance of +like characteristics, whether of body or mind, in successive +generations, but that it does nothing whatever towards removing +it.</p> +<p>It is here that Mr. Herbert Spencer, the late Mr. G. H. Lewes, +and Mr. Romanes fail. Mr. Herbert Spencer does indeed go so +far in one place as to call instinct “organised +memory,” <a name="citation228b"></a><a href="#footnote228b" +class="citation">[228b]</a> and Mr. G. H. Lewes attributes many +instincts to what he calls the “lapsing of +intelligence.” <a name="citation228c"></a><a +href="#footnote228c" class="citation">[228c]</a> So does +Mr. Herbert Spencer, <a name="citation228d"></a><a +href="#footnote228d" class="citation">[228d]</a> whom Mr. Romanes +should have known that Mr. Lewis was following. Mr. +Romanes, in his recent work, Mental Evolution in Animals +(November, 1883), endorses this, and frequently uses such +expressions as “the lifetime of the species,” <a +name="citation228e"></a><a href="#footnote228e" +class="citation">[228e]</a> “hereditary experience,” +<a name="citation228f"></a><a href="#footnote228f" +class="citation">[228f]</a> and “hereditary memory and +instinct,” <a name="citation228g"></a><a +href="#footnote228g" class="citation">[228g]</a> but none of +these writers (and indeed no writer that I know of except +Professor Hering of Prague, for a translation of whose address on +this subject I must refer the reader <!-- page 229--><a +name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 229</span>to my book +Unconscious Memory) has shown a comprehension of the fact that +these expressions are unexplained so long as +“heredity,” whereby they explain them, is +unexplained; and none of them sees the importance of emphasizing +Memory, and making it as it were the keystone of the system.</p> +<p>Mr. Spencer may very well call instinct “organised +memory” if he means that offspring can +remember—within the limitations to which all memory is +subject—what happened to it while it was yet in the person +or persons of its parent or parents; but if he does not mean +this, his use of the word “memory,” his talk about +“the experience of the race,” and other expressions +of kindred nature, are delusive. If he does mean this, it +is a pity he has nowhere said so.</p> +<p>Professor Hering does mean this, and makes it clear that he +does so. He does not catch the ball and let it slip through +his fingers again, but holds it firmly. “It is to +memory,” he says, “that we owe almost all that we +have or are; our ideas and conceptions are its work; our every +thought and movement are derived from this source. Memory +connects the countless phenomena of our existence into a single +whole, and as our bodies would be scattered into the dust of +their component atoms if they were not held together by the +cohesion of matter, so our consciousness would be broken up into +as many moments as we had lived seconds, but for the binding and +unifying force of Memory.” <a name="citation229"></a><a +href="#footnote229" class="citation">[229]</a> And he +proceeds to show that Memory persists between generations exactly +as it does between the various stages in the life of the +individual. If I could find any such passage as the one I +have just <!-- page 230--><a name="page230"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 230</span>quoted, in Mr. Herbert +Spencer’s, Mr. Lewes’s, or Mr. Romanes’ works, +I should be only too glad to quote it, but I know of nothing +comparable to it for definiteness of idea, thoroughness and +consistency.</p> +<p>No reader indeed can rise from a perusal of Mr. Herbert +Spencer’s, or Mr. G. H. Lewes’, work with an +adequate—if indeed with any—impression that the +phenomena of heredity are in fact phenomena of memory; that +heredity, whether as regards body or mind, is only possible +because each generation is linked on to and made one with its +predecessor by the possession of a common and abiding memory, in +as far as bodily existence was common—that is to say, until +the substance of the one left the substance of the other; and +that this memory is exactly of the same general character as that +which enables us to remember what we did half an hour +ago—strong under the same circumstances as those under +which this familiar kind of memory is strong, and weak under +those under which it is weak. Mr. Spencer and Mr. Lewes +have even less conception of the connection between heredity and +memory than Dr. Erasmus Darwin had at the close of the last +century. <a name="citation230"></a><a href="#footnote230" +class="citation">[230]</a></p> +<p>Mr. Lewes’ position was briefly this. He denied +that there could be any knowledge independent of experience, but +he could not help seeing that young animals come into the world +furnished with many organs which they use with great dexterity at +a very early age. This looks as if they are acting on +knowledge acquired independently of experience. +“No,” says Mr. Lewes, “not so. They are +born with the organs—I cannot tell how or why, but heredity +explains all that, and having once got the organs, the objects +<!-- page 231--><a name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +231</span>that come into contact with them in daily life +naturally produce the same effect as on the parents, just as +oxygen coming into contact with the right quantity of hydrogen +will make water; hence even the first time the offspring come +into contact with any given object they act as their parents +did.” The idea of the young having got their +experience in a past generation does not seem to have even +crossed his mind.</p> +<p>“What marvel is there,” he asks, “that +constant conditions acting upon structures which are similar +should produce similar results? It is in this sense that +the paradox of Leibnitz is true, and we can be said ‘to +acquire an innate idea;’ only the idea is not acquired +independently of experience, but through the process of +experience similar to that which originally produced it.” +<a name="citation231a"></a><a href="#footnote231a" +class="citation">[231a]</a></p> +<p>The impression left upon me is that he is all at sea for want +of the clue with which Professor Hering would have furnished him, +and that had that clue been presented to him a dozen years or so +earlier than it was he would have adopted it.</p> +<p>As regards Mr. Romanes the case is different. His recent +work, Mental Evolution in Animals, <a name="citation231b"></a><a +href="#footnote231b" class="citation">[231b]</a> shows that he is +well aware of the direction which modern opinion is taking, and +in several places he so writes as to warrant me in claiming his +authority in support of the views which I have been insisting on +for several years past.</p> +<p>Thus Mr. Romanes says that the analogies between the memory +with which we are familiar in daily life and hereditary memory +“are so numerous and precise” <!-- page 232--><a +name="page232"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 232</span>as to +justify us in considering them to be of essentially the same +kind. <a name="citation232a"></a><a href="#footnote232a" +class="citation">[232a]</a></p> +<p>Again he says that although the memory of milk shown by +new-born infants is “at all events in large part +hereditary, it is none the less memory” of a certain kind. +<a name="citation232b"></a><a href="#footnote232b" +class="citation">[232b]</a></p> +<p>Two lines lower down he writes of “hereditary memory or +instinct,” thereby implying that instinct is +“hereditary memory.” “It makes no +essential difference,” he says, “whether the past +sensation was actually experienced by the individual itself, or +bequeathed it, so to speak, by its ancestors. <a +name="citation232c"></a><a href="#footnote232c" +class="citation">[232c]</a> For it makes no essential +difference whether the nervous changes . . . were occasioned +during the lifetime of the individual or during that of the +species, and afterwards impressed by heredity on the +individual.”</p> +<p>Lower down on the same page he writes:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“As showing how close is the connection +between hereditary memory and instinct,” &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And on the following page:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“And this shows how closely the phenomena of +hereditary memory are related to those of individual memory: at +this stage . . . it is practically impossible to disentangle the +effects of hereditary memory from those of the +individual.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Again:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Another point which we have here to +consider is the part which heredity has played in forming the +perceptive faculty of the individual prior to its own +experience. We have already seen that heredity plays an +important part in forming memory of ancestral experiences, and +thus it is that many animals come <!-- page 233--><a +name="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 233</span>into the +world with their power of perception already largely developed. . +. . The wealth of ready-formed information, and therefore +of ready-made powers of perception, with which many newly-born or +newly-hatched animals are provided, is so great and so precise +that it scarcely requires to be supplemented by the subsequent +experience of the individual.” <a +name="citation233a"></a><a href="#footnote233a" +class="citation">[233a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Again:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Instincts probably owe their origin and +development to one or other of two principles.</p> +<p>“I. The first mode of origin consists in natural +selection or survival of the fittest, continuously preserving +actions, &c. &c. . . .</p> +<p>“II. The second mode of origin is as +follows:—By the effects of habit in successive generations, +actions which were originally intelligent become as it were +stereotyped into permanent instincts. Just as in the +lifetime of the individual adjustive actions which were +originally intelligent may by frequent repetition become +automatic, so in the lifetime of species actions originally +intelligent may by frequent repetition and heredity so write +their effects on the nervous system that the latter is prepared, +even before individual experience, to perform adjustive actions +mechanically which in previous generations were performed +intelligently. This mode of origin of instincts has been +appropriately called (by Lewes—see Problems of Life and +Mind <a name="citation233b"></a><a href="#footnote233b" +class="citation">[233b]</a>) the ‘lapsing of +intelligence.’” <a name="citation233c"></a><a +href="#footnote233c" class="citation">[233c]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Later on:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“That ‘practice makes perfect’ +is a matter, as I have previously said, of daily +observation. Whether <!-- page 234--><a +name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 234</span>we regard a +juggler, a pianist, or a billiard-player, a child learning his +lesson or an actor his part by frequently repeating it, or a +thousand other illustrations of the same process, we see at once +that there is truth in the cynical definition of a man as a +‘bundle of habits.’ And the same of course is +true of animals.” <a name="citation234a"></a><a +href="#footnote234a" class="citation">[234a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>From this Mr. Romanes goes on to show “that automatic +actions and conscious habits may be inherited,” <a +name="citation234b"></a><a href="#footnote234b" +class="citation">[234b]</a> and in the course of doing this +contends that “instincts may be lost by disuse, and +conversely that they may be acquired as instincts by the +hereditary transmission of ancestral experience.” <a +name="citation234c"></a><a href="#footnote234c" +class="citation">[234c]</a></p> +<p>On another page Mr. Romanes says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Let us now turn to the second of these two +assumptions, viz., that some at least among migratory birds must +possess, by inheritance alone, a very precise knowledge of the +particular direction to be pursued. It is without question +an astonishing fact that a young cuckoo should be prompted to +leave its foster parents at a particular season of the year, and +without any guide to show the course previously taken by its own +parents, but this is a fact which must be met by any theory of +instinct which aims at being complete. Now upon our own +theory it can only be met by taking it to be due to inherited +memory.” <a name="citation234d"></a><a href="#footnote234d" +class="citation">[234d]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Mr. Romanes says in a note that this theory was first advanced +by Canon Kingsley in <i>Nature</i>, January 18, 1867, a piece of +information which I learn for the first time; otherwise, as I +need hardly say, I should have called attention to it in my own +books on evolution. <i>Nature</i> did not begin to appear +till the end of 1869, and I can find no communication from Canon +<!-- page 235--><a name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +235</span>Kingsley bearing upon hereditary memory in any number +of <i>Nature</i> prior to the date of Canon Kingsley’s +death; but no doubt Mr. Romanes has only made a slip in his +reference. Mr. Romanes also says that the theory connecting +instinct with inherited memory “has since been +independently ‘suggested’ by many writers.”</p> +<p>A little lower Mr. Romanes says: “Of what kind, then, is +the inherited memory on which the young cuckoo (if not also other +migratory birds) depends? We can only answer, of the same +kind, whatever this may be, as that upon which the old bird +depends.” <a name="citation235"></a><a href="#footnote235" +class="citation">[235]</a></p> +<p>I have given above most of the more marked passages which I +have been able to find in Mr. Romanes’ book which attribute +instinct to memory, and which admit that there is no fundamental +difference between the kind of memory with which we are all +familiar and hereditary memory as transmitted from one generation +to another. But throughout his work there are passages +which suggest, though less obviously, the same inference.</p> +<p>The passages I have quoted show that Mr. Romanes is upholding +the same opinions as Professor Hering’s and my own, but +their effect and tendency is more plain here than in Mr. +Romanes’ own book, where they are overlaid by nearly 400 +long pages of matter which is not always easy of +comprehension.</p> +<p>The late Mr. Darwin himself, indeed—whose mantle seems +to have fallen more especially and particularly on Mr. +Romanes—could not contradict himself more hopelessly than +Mr. Romanes often does. Indeed in one of the very passages +I have quoted in order to show that Mr. Romanes accepts the +phenomena of heredity as <!-- page 236--><a +name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 236</span>phenomena +of memory, he speaks of “heredity as playing an important +part <i>in forming memory</i> of ancestral experiences;” so +that whereas I want him to say that the phenomena of heredity are +due to memory, he will have it that the memory is due to the +heredity, <a name="citation236a"></a><a href="#footnote236a" +class="citation">[236a]</a> which seems to me absurd.</p> +<p>Over and over again Mr. Romanes insists that it is heredity +which does this or that. Thus it is “<i>heredity with +natural selection which adapt</i> the anatomical plan of the +ganglia.” <a name="citation236b"></a><a +href="#footnote236b" class="citation">[236b]</a> It is +heredity which impresses nervous changes on the individual. <a +name="citation236c"></a><a href="#footnote236c" +class="citation">[236c]</a> “In the lifetime of +species actions originally intelligent may by frequent repetition +<i>and heredity</i>,” &c. <a name="citation236d"></a><a +href="#footnote236d" class="citation">[236d]</a>; but he nowhere +tells us what heredity is any more than Messrs. Herbert Spencer, +Darwin, and Lewes have done. This, however, is, exactly +what Professor Hering, whom I have unwittingly followed, +does. He resolves all phenomena of heredity, whether in +respect of body or mind, into phenomena of memory. He says +in effect, “A man grows his body as he does, and a bird +makes her nest as she does, because both man and bird remember +having grown body and made nest as they now do, or very nearly +so, on innumerable past occasions.” He thus reduces +life from an equation of say 100 unknown quantities to one of 99 +only by showing that heredity and memory, two of the original 100 +unknown quantities, are in reality part of one and the same +thing.</p> +<p>That he is right Mr. Romanes seems to me to admit, though in a +very unsatisfactory way.</p> +<h2><!-- page 237--><a name="page237"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 237</span>REMARKS ON MR. ROMANES’ MENTAL +EVOLUTION IN ANIMALS—(<i>continued</i>).</h2> +<p>I will give examples of my meaning. Mr. Romanes says on +an early page, “The most fundamental principle of mental +operation is that of memory, for this is the <i>conditio sine +quâ non</i> of all mental life” (page 35).</p> +<p>I do not understand Mr. Romanes to hold that there is any +living being which has no mind at all, and I do understand him to +admit that development of body and mind are closely +interdependent.</p> +<p>If then, “the most fundamental principle” of mind +is memory, it follows that memory enters also as a fundamental +principle into development of body. For mind and body are +so closely connected that nothing can enter largely into the one +without correspondingly affecting the other.</p> +<p>On a later page, indeed, Mr. Romanes speaks point-blank of the +new-born child as “<i>embodying</i> the results of a great +mass of <i>hereditary experience</i>” (p. 77), so that what +he is driving at can be collected by those who take trouble, but +is not seen until we call up from our own knowledge matter whose +relevancy does not appear on the face of it, and until we connect +passages many pages asunder, the first of which may easily be +forgotten before we reach the second. There can be no +doubt, however, that Mr. Romanes does in reality, <!-- page +238--><a name="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +238</span>like Professor Hering and myself, regard development, +whether of mind or body, as due to memory, for it is nonsense +indeed to talk about “hereditary experience” or +“hereditary memory” if anything else is intended.</p> +<p>I have said above that on page 113 of his recent work Mr. +Romanes declares the analogies between the memory with which we +are familiar in daily life, and hereditary memory, to be +“so numerous and precise” as to justify us in +considering them as of one and the same kind.</p> +<p>This is certainly his meaning, but, with the exception of the +words within inverted commas, it is not his language. His +own words are these:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Profound, however, as our ignorance +unquestionably is concerning the physical substratum of memory, I +think we are at least justified in regarding this substratum as +the same both in ganglionic or organic, and in conscious or +psychological memory, seeing that the analogies between them are +so numerous and precise. Consciousness is but an adjunct +which arises when the physical processes, owing to infrequency of +repetition, complexity of operation, or other causes, involve +what I have before called ganglionic friction.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I submit that I have correctly translated Mr. Romanes’ +meaning, and also that we have a right to complain of his not +saying what he has to say in words which will involve less +“ganglionic friction” on the part of the reader.</p> +<p>Another example may be found on p. 43 of Mr. Romanes’ +book. “Lastly,” he writes, “just as +innumerable special mechanisms of muscular co-ordinations are +found to be inherited, innumerable special associations of ideas +are found to be the same, and in one <!-- page 239--><a +name="page239"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 239</span>case as in +the other the strength of the organically imposed connection is +found to bear a direct proportion to the frequency with which in +the history of the species it has occurred.”</p> +<p>Mr. Romanes is here intending what the reader will find +insisted on on p. 98 of the present volume; but how difficult he +has made what could have been said intelligibly enough, if there +had been nothing but the reader’s comfort to be +considered. Unfortunately that seems to have been by no +means the only thing of which Mr. Romanes was thinking, or why, +after implying and even saying over and over again that instinct +is inherited habit due to inherited memory, should he turn +sharply round on p. 297 and praise Mr. Darwin for trying to snuff +out “the well-known doctrine of inherited habit as advanced +by Lamarck”? The answer is not far to seek. It +is because Mr. Romanes did not merely want to tell us all about +instinct, but wanted also, if I may use a homely metaphor, to +hunt with the hounds and run with the hare at one and the same +time.</p> +<p>I remember saying that if the late Mr. Darwin “had told +us what the earlier evolutionists said, why they said it, wherein +he differed from them, and in what way he proposed to set them +straight, he would have taken a course at once more agreeable +with usual practice, and more likely to remove misconception from +his own mind and from those of his readers.” <a +name="citation239"></a><a href="#footnote239" +class="citation">[239]</a> This I have no doubt was one of +the passages which made Mr. Romanes so angry with me. I can +find no better words to apply to Mr. Romanes himself. He +knows perfectly well what others have written about the +connection between heredity and memory, and he knows <!-- page +240--><a name="page240"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 240</span>no +less well that so far as he is intelligible at all he is taking +the same view that they have taken. If he had begun by +saying what they had said and had then improved on it, I for one +should have been only too glad to be improved upon.</p> +<p>Mr. Romanes has spoiled his book just because this plain +old-fashioned method of procedure was not good enough for +him. One-half the obscurity which makes his meaning so hard +to apprehend is due to exactly the same cause as that which has +ruined so much of the late Mr. Darwin’s work—I mean +to a desire to appear to be differing altogether from others with +whom he knew himself after all to be in substantial +agreement. He adopts, but (probably quite unconsciously) in +his anxiety to avoid appearing to adopt, he obscures what he is +adopting.</p> +<p>Here, for example, is Mr. Romanes’ definition of +instinct:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Instinct is reflex action into which there +is imported the element of consciousness. The term is +therefore a generic one, comprising all those faculties of mind +which are concerned in conscious and adaptive action, antecedent +to individual experience, without necessary knowledge of the +relation between means employed and ends attained, but similarly +performed under similar and frequently recurring circumstances by +all the individuals of the same species.” <a +name="citation240"></a><a href="#footnote240" +class="citation">[240]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>If Mr. Romanes would have been content to build frankly upon +Professor Hering’s foundation, the soundness of which he +has elsewhere abundantly admitted, he might have said—</p> +<p>“Instinct is knowledge or habit acquired in past +generations—the new generation remembering what <!-- page +241--><a name="page241"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +241</span>happened to it before it parted company with the +old.” Then he might have added as a rider—</p> +<p>“If a habit is acquired as a new one, during any given +lifetime, it is not an instinct. If having been acquired in +one lifetime it is transmitted to offspring, it is an instinct in +the offspring though it was not an instinct in the parent. +If the habit is transmitted partially, it must be considered as +partly instinctive and partly acquired.”</p> +<p>This is easy; it tells people how they may test any action so +as to know what they ought to call it; it leaves well alone by +avoiding all such debatable matters as reflex action, +consciousness, intelligence, purpose, knowledge of purpose, +&c.; it both introduces the feature of inheritance which is +the one mainly distinguishing instinctive from so-called +intelligent actions, and shows the manner in which these last +pass into the first, that is to say, by way of memory and +habitual repetition; finally it points the fact that the new +generation is not to be looked upon as a new thing, but (as Dr. +Erasmus Darwin long since said <a name="citation241"></a><a +href="#footnote241" class="citation">[241]</a>) as “a +branch or elongation” of the one immediately preceding +it.</p> +<p>But then to have said this would have made it too plain that +Mr. Romanes was following some one else. Mr. Romanes should +remember that no one would mind how much he took if he would only +take it well. But this is what those who take without due +acknowledgment never do.</p> +<p>In Mr. Darwin’s case it is hardly possible to exaggerate +the waste of time, money, and trouble that has been caused by his +not having been content to appear as descending with modification +like other people from those who went before him. It will +take years to get <!-- page 242--><a name="page242"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 242</span>the evolution theory out of the mess +in which Mr. Darwin has left it. He was heir to a +discredited truth; he left behind him an accredited +fallacy. Mr. Romanes, if he is not stopped in time, will +get the theory connecting heredity and memory into just such +another muddle as Mr. Darwin has got Evolution, for surely the +writer who can talk about “<i>heredity being able to work +up</i> the faculty of homing into the instinct of +migration,” <a name="citation242a"></a><a +href="#footnote242a" class="citation">[242a]</a> or of “the +principle of (natural) selection combining with that of lapsing +intelligence to the formation of a joint result,” <a +name="citation242b"></a><a href="#footnote242b" +class="citation">[242b]</a> is little likely to depart from the +usual methods of scientific procedure with advantage either to +himself or any one else. Fortunately Mr. Romanes is not Mr. +Darwin, and though he has certainly got Mr. Darwin’s +mantle, and got it very much too, it will not on Mr. +Romanes’ shoulders hide a good deal that people were not +going to observe too closely while Mr. Darwin wore it.</p> +<h2><!-- page 243--><a name="page243"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 243</span>REMARKS ON MR. ROMANES’ MENTAL +EVOLUTION IN ANIMALS—(<i>concluded</i>).</h2> +<p>I gather that in the end the late Mr. Darwin himself admitted +the soundness of the view which the reader will have found +insisted upon in the extracts from my earlier books given in this +volume. Mr. Romanes quotes a letter written by Mr. Darwin +in the last year of his life, in which he speaks of an +intelligent action gradually becoming “<i>instinctive</i>, +<i>i.e.</i>, <i>memory transmitted from one generation to +another</i>.” <a name="citation243a"></a><a +href="#footnote243a" class="citation">[243a]</a></p> +<p>Briefly, the stages of Mr. Darwin’s opinion upon the +subject of hereditary memory are as follows:—</p> +<p>1859. “It would be <i>the most serious error</i> +to suppose that the greater number of instincts have been +acquired by habit in one generation and transmitted by +inheritance to succeeding generations.” <a +name="citation243b"></a><a href="#footnote243b" +class="citation">[243b]</a> And this more especially +applies to the instincts of many ants.</p> +<p>1876. “It would be <i>a serious error</i> to +suppose” &c., as before. <a name="citation243c"></a><a +href="#footnote243c" class="citation">[243c]</a></p> +<p>1881. “We should remember <i>what a mass of +inherited knowledge</i> is crowded into the minute brain of a +worker ant.” <a name="citation243d"></a><a +href="#footnote243d" class="citation">[243d]</a></p> +<p>1881 or 1882. Speaking of a given habitual action <!-- +page 244--><a name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +244</span>Mr. Darwin writes:—“It does not seem to me +at all incredible that this action [and why this more than any +other habitual action?] should then become instinctive:” +<i>i.e.</i>, <i>memory transmitted from one generation to +another</i>. <a name="citation244a"></a><a href="#footnote244a" +class="citation">[244a]</a></p> +<p>And yet in 1839 or thereabouts, Mr. Darwin had pretty nearly +grasped the conception from which until the last year or two of +his life he so fatally strayed; for in his contribution to the +volumes giving an account of the voyages of the <i>Adventure</i> +and <i>Beagle</i>, he wrote: “Nature by making habit +omnipotent and its effects hereditary, has fitted the Fuegian for +the climate and productions of his country” (p. 237).</p> +<p>What is the secret of the long departure from the simple +common-sense view of the matter which he took when he was a young +man? I imagine simply what I have referred to in the +preceding chapter,—over-anxiety to appear to be differing +from his grandfather, Dr. Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck.</p> +<p>I believe I may say that Mr. Darwin before he died not only +admitted the connection between memory and heredity, but came +also to see that he must readmit that design in organism which he +had so many years opposed. For in the preface to Hermann +Müller’s Fertilisation of Flowers, <a +name="citation244b"></a><a href="#footnote244b" +class="citation">[244b]</a> which bears a date only a very few +weeks prior to Mr. Darwin’s death, I find him +saying:—“Design in nature has for a long time deeply +interested many men, and though the subject must now be looked at +from a somewhat different point of view from what was formerly +the case, it is not on that account rendered less +interesting.” This is mused <!-- page 245--><a +name="page245"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 245</span>forth as a +general gnome, and may mean anything or nothing: the writer of +the letterpress under the hieroglyph in Old Moore’s Almanac +could not be more guarded; but I think I know what it does +mean.</p> +<p>I cannot of course be sure; Mr. Darwin did not probably intend +that I should; but I assume with confidence that whether there is +design in organism or no, there is at any rate design in this +passage of Mr. Darwin’s. This, we may be sure, is not +a fortuitous variation; and moreover it is introduced for some +reason which made Mr. Darwin think it worth while to go out of +his way to introduce it. It has no fitness in its +connection with Hermann Müller’s book, for what little +Hermann Müller says about teleology at all is to condemn it; +why then should Mr. Darwin muse here of all places in the world +about the interest attaching to design in organism? Neither +has the passage any connection with the rest of the +preface. There is not another word about design, and even +here Mr. Darwin seems mainly anxious to face both ways, and pat +design as it were on the head while not committing himself to any +proposition which could be disputed.</p> +<p>The explanation is sufficiently obvious. Mr. Darwin +wanted to hedge. He saw that the design which his works had +been mainly instrumental in pitchforking out of organisms no less +manifestly designed than a burglar’s jemmy is designed, had +nevertheless found its way back again, and that though, as I +insisted in Evolution, Old and New, and Unconscious Memory, it +must now be placed within the organism instead of outside it, as +“was formerly the case,” it was not on that account +any the less—design, as well as interesting.</p> +<p>I should like to have seen Mr. Darwin say this more +explicitly. Indeed I should have liked to have seen <!-- +page 246--><a name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +246</span>Mr. Darwin say anything at all about the meaning of +which there could be no mistake, and without contradicting +himself elsewhere; but this was not Mr. Darwin’s +manner.</p> +<p>In passing I will give another example of Mr. Darwin’s +manner when he did not quite dare even to hedge. It is to +be found in the preface which he wrote to Professor +Weismann’s Studies in the Theory of Descent, published in +1882.</p> +<p>“Several distinguished naturalists,” says Mr. +Darwin, “maintain with much confidence that organic beings +tend to vary and to rise in the scale, independently of the +conditions to which they and their progenitors have been exposed; +whilst others maintain that all variation is due to such +exposure, though the manner in which the environment acts is as +yet quite unknown. At the present time there is hardly any +question in biology of more importance than this of the nature +and causes of variability, and the reader will find in the +present work an able discussion on the whole subject which will +probably lead him to pause before he admits the existence of an +innate tendency to perfectibility”—or towards, +<i>being able to be perfected</i>.</p> +<p>I could find no able discussion upon the whole subject in +Professor Weismann’s book. There was a little +something here and there, but not much.</p> +<p>Mr Herbert Spencer has not in his more recent works said +anything which enables me to appeal to his authority.</p> +<p>I imagine that if he had got hold of the idea that heredity +was only a mode of memory before 1870, when he published the +second edition of his Principles of Psychology, he would have +gladly adopted it, for he seems continually groping after it, and +aware of it as <!-- page 247--><a name="page247"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 247</span>near him, though he is never able to +grasp it. He probably failed to grasp it because Lamarck +had failed. He could not adopt it in his edition of 1880, +for this is evidently printed from stereos taken from the 1870 +edition, and no considerable alteration was therefore +possible.</p> +<p>The late Mr. G. H. Lewes did not get hold of the memory +theory, probably because neither Mr. Spencer nor any of the +well-known German philosophers had done so. Mr. Romanes, as +I think I have shown, actually has adopted it, but he does not +say where he got it from. I suppose from reading Canon +Kingsley in <i>Nature</i> some years before <i>Nature</i> began +to exist, or (for has not the mantle of Mr. Darwin fallen upon +him?) he has thought it all out independently; but however Mr. +Romanes may have reached his conclusion, he must have done so +comparatively recently, for when he reviewed my book, Unconscious +Memory, <a name="citation247"></a><a href="#footnote247" +class="citation">[247]</a> he scoffed at the very theory which he +is now adopting.</p> +<p>Of the view that “there is thus a race memory, as there +is an individual memory, and that the expression of the former +constitutes the phenomena of heredity”—for it is thus +Mr. Romanes with fair accuracy describes the theory I was +supporting—he wrote:</p> +<p>“Now this view, in which Mr. Butler was anticipated by +Prof. Hering, is interesting if advanced merely as an +illustration; but to imagine that it maintains any truth of +profound significance, or that it can possibly be fraught with +any benefit to science, is simply absurd. The most cursory +thought is enough to show,” &c. &c.</p> +<p>“We can understand,” he continued, “in some +measure how an alteration in brain structure when once <!-- page +248--><a name="page248"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +248</span>made should be permanent, . . . but we cannot +understand how this alteration is transmitted to progeny through +structures so unlike the brain as are the products of the +generative glands. And we merely stultify ourselves if we +suppose that the problem is brought any nearer to a solution by +asserting that a future individual while still in the germ has +already participated, say in the cerebral alterations of its +parents,” &c. Mr. Romanes could find no measure +of abuse strong enough for me,—as any reader may see who +feels curious enough to turn to Mr. Romanes’ article in +<i>Nature</i> already referred to.</p> +<p>As for Evolution, Old and New, he said I had written it +“in the hope of gaining some notoriety by deserving and +perhaps receiving a contemptuous refutation from” Mr. +Darwin. <a name="citation248a"></a><a href="#footnote248a" +class="citation">[248a]</a> In my reply to Mr. Romanes I +said, “I will not characterise this accusation in the terms +which it merits.” <a name="citation248b"></a><a +href="#footnote248b" class="citation">[248b]</a> Mr. +Romanes, in the following number of <i>Nature</i>, withdrew his +accusation and immediately added, “I was induced to advance +it because it seemed the only rational motive that could have led +to the publication of such a book.” Again I will not +characterise such a withdrawal in the terms it merits, but I may +say in passing that if Mr. Romanes thinks the motive he assigned +to me “a rational one,” his view of what is rational +and mine differ. It does not commend itself as +“rational” to me, that a man should spend a good deal +of money and two or three years of work in the hope of deserving +a contemptuous refutation from any one—not even from Mr. +Darwin. But then Mr. Romanes has written such a lot about +reason and intelligence.</p> +<p>The reply to Evolution, Old and New, which I actually <!-- +page 249--><a name="page249"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +249</span>did get from Mr. Darwin, was one which I do not see +advertised among Mr. Darwin’s other works now, and which I +venture to say never will be advertised among them +again—not at least until it has been altered. I have +seen no reason to leave off advertising Evolution, Old and New, +and Unconscious Memory.</p> +<p>I have never that I know of seen Mr. Romanes, but am told that +he is still young. I can find no publication of his indexed +in the British Museum Catalogue earlier than 1874, and then it +was only about Christian Prayer. Mr. Romanes was good +enough to advise me to turn painter or homœopathist; <a +name="citation249"></a><a href="#footnote249" +class="citation">[249]</a> as he has introduced the subject, and +considering how many years I am his senior, I might be justified +(if it could be any pleasure to me to do so) in suggesting to him +too what I should imagine most likely to tend to his advancement +in life; but there are examples so bad that even those who have +no wish to be any better than their neighbours may yet decline to +follow them, and I think Mr. Romanes’ is one of +these. I will not therefore find him a profession.</p> +<p>But leaving this matter on one side, the point I wish to +insist on is that Mr. Romanes is saying almost in my own words +what less than three years ago he was very angry with me for +saying. I do not think that under these circumstances much +explanation is necessary as to the reasons which have led Mr. +Romanes to fight so shy of any reference to Life and Habit, +Evolution, Old and New, and Unconscious Memory—works in +which, if I may venture to say so, the theory connecting the +phenomena of heredity with memory has been not only +“suggested,” but so far established that even Mr. +Romanes has been led to think the matter over independently <!-- +page 250--><a name="page250"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +250</span>and to arrive at the same general conclusion as +myself.</p> +<p>Curiously enough, Mr. Grant Allen too has come to much the +same conclusions as myself, after having attacked me, though not +so fiercely, as Mr. Romanes has done. In 1879 he said in +the <i>Examiner</i> (May 17) that the teleological view put +forward in Evolution, Old and New, was “just the sort of +mystical nonsense from which” he “had hoped Mr. +Darwin had for ever saved us.” And so in the +<i>Academy</i> on the same day he said that no “one-sided +argument” (referring to Evolution, Old and New) could ever +deprive Mr. Darwin of the “place which he had eternally won +in the history of human thought by his magnificent +achievement.”</p> +<p>A few years, and Mr. Allen entertains a very different opinion +of Mr. Darwin’s magnificent achievement.</p> +<p>“There are only two conceivable ways,” he writes, +“in which any increment of brain power can ever have arisen +in any individual. The one is the Darwinian way, by +‘spontaneous variation,’ that is to say by variation +due to minute physical circumstances affecting the individual in +the germ. The other is the Spencerian way, by functional +increment, that is to say by the effect of increased use and +constant exposure to varying circumstances during conscious +life.” <a name="citation250"></a><a href="#footnote250" +class="citation">[250]</a></p> +<p>Mr. Allen must know very well, or if he does not he has no +excuse at any rate for not knowing, that the theory according to +which increase of brain power or any other bodily or mental power +is due to use, is no more Mr. Spencer’s than the theory of +gravitation is, except in so far as that Mr. Spencer has adopted +it. It is the theory which every one except Mr. Allen <!-- +page 251--><a name="page251"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +251</span>associates with Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck, but more +especially (and on the whole I suppose justly) with Lamarck.</p> +<p>“I venture to think,” continues Mr. Allen, +“that the first way [Mr. Darwin’s], if we look it +clearly in the face, will be seen to be <i>practically +unthinkable</i>; and that we have therefore no alternative but to +accept the second.”</p> +<p>These writers go round so quickly and so completely that there +is no keeping pace with them. “As to +Materialism,” he writes presently, “surely it is more +profoundly materialistic to suppose that mere physical causes +operating on the germ can determine minute physical and material +changes in the brain, which will in turn make the individuality +what it is to be, than to suppose <i>that all brains are what +they are in virtue of antecedent function</i>. The one +creed makes the man depend mainly upon the accidents of molecular +physics in a colliding germ cell and sperm cell; <i>the other +makes him depend mainly upon the doings and gains of his +ancestors as modified and altered by himself</i>.”</p> +<p>Here is a sentence taken almost at random from the body of the +article:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“We are always seeing something which adds +to our total stock of memories; we are always learning and doing +something new. The vast majority of these experiences are +similar in kind to those already passed through by our ancestors: +they add nothing to the inheritance of the race. . . . Though +they leave physical traces on the individual, they do not so far +affect the underlying organisation of the brain as to make the +development of after-brains somewhat different from previous +ones. But there are certain functional activities which do +tend so to alter the development of <!-- page 252--><a +name="page252"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +252</span>after-brains; certain novel or sustained activities +which apparently result in the production of new correlated brain +elements or brain connections hereditarily transmissible as +increased potentialities of similar activity in the +offspring.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Of Natural Selection Mr. Allen writes much, as Professor +Mivart and others have been writing for many years past.</p> +<p>“It seems to me,” he says, “easy to +understand how survival of the fittest may result in progress +starting from such functionally produced gains, but impossible to +understand how it could result in progress if it had to start in +mere accidental structural increments due to spontaneous +variation alone.” <a name="citation252a"></a><a +href="#footnote252a" class="citation">[252a]</a></p> +<p>Mr. Allen may say this now, but until lately he has been among +the first to scold any one else who said so.</p> +<p>And this is how the article concludes:—</p> +<p>“The first hypothesis (Mr Darwin’s) is one that +throws no light upon any of the facts. The second +hypothesis (which Mr. Allen is pleased to call Mr. Herbert +Spencer’s) is one that explains them all with transparent +lucidity.” <a name="citation252b"></a><a +href="#footnote252b" class="citation">[252b]</a></p> +<p>So that Mr. Darwin, according to Mr. Allen, is clean out of +it. Truly when Mr. Allen makes stepping-stones of his dead +selves, he jumps upon them to some tune. But then Mr. +Darwin is dead now. I have not heard of his having given +Mr. Allen any manuscripts as he gave Mr. Romanes. I hope +Mr. Herbert Spencer will not give him any. If I was Mr. +Spencer and found my admirers crowning me with Lamarck’s +laurels, I think I should have something to say to them.</p> +<p><!-- page 253--><a name="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +253</span>What are we to think of a writer who declares that the +theory that specific and generic changes are due to use and +disuse “explains <i>all the facts</i> with transparent +lucidity”?</p> +<p>Lamarck’s hypothesis is no doubt a great help and a +great step toward Professor Hering’s; it makes a known +cause underlie variations, and thus is free from those fatal +objections which Professor Mivart and others have brought against +the theory of Messrs. Darwin and Wallace; but how does the theory +that use develops an organism explain why offspring repeat the +organism at all? How does the Lamarckian hypothesis explain +the sterility of hybrids, for example? The sterility of +hybrids has been always considered one of the great <i>cruces</i> +in connection with any theory of Evolution. How again does +it explain reversion to long-lost characters and the resumption +of feral characteristics? the phenomena of old age? the principle +that underlies longevity? the reason why the reproductive system +is generally the last to arrive at maturity, and why few further +developments take place in any organism after this has been fully +developed? the sterility of many animals under captivity? the +development in both males and females, under certain +circumstances, of the characteristics of the opposite sex? the +latency of memory? the unconsciousness with which we develop, and +with which instinctive actions are performed? How does any +theory advanced either by Lamarck, Mr. Herbert Spencer, or Mr. +Darwin explain, or indeed throw light upon these facts until +supplemented with the explanation given of them in Life and +Habit—for which I must refer the reader to that work +itself?</p> +<p>People may say what they like about “the experience <!-- +page 254--><a name="page254"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +254</span>of the race,” <a name="citation254a"></a><a +href="#footnote254a" class="citation">[254a]</a> “the +registration of experiences continued for numberless +generations,” <a name="citation254b"></a><a +href="#footnote254b" class="citation">[254b]</a> “infinity +of experiences,” <a name="citation254c"></a><a +href="#footnote254c" class="citation">[254c]</a> “lapsed +intelligence,” &c., but until they make Memory, in the +most uncompromising sense of the word, the key to all the +phenomena of Heredity, they will get little help to the better +understanding of the difficulties above adverted to. Add +this to the theory of Buffon, Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck, and +the points which I have above alluded to receive a good deal of +“lucidity.”</p> +<p>But to return to Mr. Romanes: however much he and Mr. Allen +may differ about the merits of Mr. Darwin, they were at any rate +not long since cordially agreed in vilipending my unhappy self, +and are now saying very much what I have been saying for some +years past. I do not deny that they are capable +witnesses. They will generally see a thing when a certain +number of other people have come to do so. I submit that, +no matter how grudgingly they give their evidence, the tendency +of that evidence is sufficiently clear to show that the opinions +put forward in Life and Habit, Evolution, Old and New, and +Unconscious Memory, deserve the attention of the reader.</p> +<p>I may perhaps deal with Mr. Romanes’ recent work more +fully in the sequel to Life and Habit on which I am now +engaged. For the present it is enough to say that if he +does not mean what Professor Hering and, <i>longo intervallo</i>, +myself do, he should not talk about habit or experience as +between successive generations, and that if he does mean what we +do—which I suppose he does—he should have said so +much more clearly and consistently than he has.</p> +<h3><!-- page 254a--><a name="page254a"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 254a</span>POSTSCRIPT.</h3> +<p>This afternoon (March 7, 1884), the copies of this book being +ready for issue, I see Mr. Romanes’ letter to the +<i>Athenæum</i> of this day, and get this postscript pasted +into the book after binding.</p> +<p>Mr. Romanes corrects his reference to the passage in which he +says that Canon Kingsley first advanced the theory that instinct +is inherited memory (“M. E. in Animals,” p. +296). Canon Kingsley’s words are to be found in +<i>Fraser</i>, June, 1867, and are as follows:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Yon wood-wren has had enough to make him +sad, if only he recollects it, and if he can recollect his road +from Morocco hither he maybe recollects likewise what happened on +the road: the long weary journey up the Portuguese coast, and +through the gap between the Pyrenees and the Jaysquivel, and up +the Landes of Bordeaux, and through Brittany, flitting by night +and hiding and feeding as he could by day; and how his mates flew +against the lighthouses and were killed by hundreds, and how he +essayed the British Channel and was blown back, shrivelled up by +bitter blasts; and how he felt, nevertheless, that ‘that +was water he must cross,’ he knew not why; but something +told him that his mother had done it before him, and he was flesh +of her flesh, life of her life, and had inherited her instinct +(as we call hereditary memory in order to avoid the trouble of +finding out what it is and how it comes). A duty was laid +on him to go back to the place where he was bred, and now it is +done, and he is weary and sad and lonely, &c. &c.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is a very interesting passage, and I am glad to quote it; +but it hardly amounts to advancing the theory <!-- page 254b--><a +name="page254b"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 254b</span>that +instinct is inherited memory. Observing Mr. Romanes’ +words closely, I see he only says that Canon Kingsley was the +first to advance the theory “that many hundred miles of +landscape scenery” can “constitute an object of +inherited memory;” but as he proceeds to say that +“<i>this</i>” has since “been independently +suggested by several writers,” it is plain he intends to +convey the idea that Canon Kingsley advanced the theory that +instinct generally is inherited memory, which indeed his words +do; but it is hardly credible that he should have left them where +he did if he had realized their importance.</p> +<p>Mr. Romanes proceeds to inform me personally that the +reference to “Nature” in his proof “originally +indicated another writer who had independently advanced the same +theory as that of Canon Kingsley.” After this I have +a right to ask him to tell me who the writer is, and where I +shall find what he said. I ask this, and at my earliest +opportunity will do my best to give this writer, too, the credit +he doubtless deserves.</p> +<p>I have never professed to be the originator of the theory +connecting heredity with memory. I knew I knew so little +that I was in great trepidation when I wrote all the earlier +chapters of “Life and Habit.” I put them +paradoxically, because I did not dare to put them +otherwise. As the book went on, I saw I was on firm ground, +and the paradox was dropped. When I found what Professor +Hering had done, I put him forward as best I could at once. +I then learned German, and translated him, giving his words in +full in “Unconscious Memory;” since then I have +always spoken of the theory as Professor Hering’s.</p> +<p>Mr. Romanes says that “the theory in question forms the +backbone of all the previous literature <!-- page 254c--><a +name="page254c"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 254c</span>on +instinct by the above-named writers (not to mention their +numerous followers) and is by all of them elaborately stated as +clearly as any theory can be stated in words.” Few +except Mr. Romanes will say this. I grant it ought to have +formed the backbone “of all previous literature on instinct +by the above-named writers,” but when I wrote “Life +and Habit” it was not understood to form it. If it +had been, I should not have found it necessary to come before the +public this fourth time during the last seven years to insist +upon it. Of course the theory is not new—it was in +the air and bound to come; but when it came, it came through +Professor Hering of Prague, and not through those who, great as +are the services they have rendered, still did not render this +particular one of making memory the keystone of their +system. Mr. Romanes now says: “Why, of course, +that’s what they were meaning all the time.” +Perhaps they were, but they did not say so, and +others—conspicuously Mr. Romanes himself—did not +understand them to be meaning what he now discovers that they +meant. When Mr. Romanes attacked me in <i>Nature</i>, +January 27, 1881, he said I had “been anticipated by +Professor Hering,” but he evidently did not understand that +any one else had anticipated me; and far from holding, as he now +does, that “the theory in question forms the backbone of +all the previous” writers on instinct, and “is by all +of them elaborately stated as clearly as any theory can be stated +in words,” he said (in a passage already quoted) that it +was “interesting, if advanced merely as an illustration, +but to imagine that it maintains any truth of profound +significance, or that it can possibly be fraught with any benefit +to science, is absurd.” Considering how recently Mr. +<!-- page 254d--><a name="page254d"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +254d</span>Romanes wrote the words just quoted, he has soon +forgotten them.</p> +<p>I do not, as I have said already, and never did, claim to have +originated the theory I put forward in “Life and +Habit.” I thought it out independently, but I knew it +must have occurred to many, and had probably been worked out by +many, before myself. My claim is to have brought it perhaps +into fuller light, and to have dwelt on its importance, bearings, +and developments with some persistence, and to have done so +without much recognition or encouragement, till lately. Of +men of science, Mr. A. R. Wallace and Professor Mivart gave me +encouragement, but no one else has done so. I sometimes +saw, as in the Duke of Argyll’s case, and in Mr. +Romanes’ own, that men were writing at me, or borrowing +from me, but with the two exceptions already made, and that also +of the Bishop of Carlisle, not one of the literary and scientific +notables of the day so much as mentioned my name while making use +of my work.</p> +<p>A few words more, and I will bring these remarks to a close, +Mr. Romanes says I represent “the phenomena of memory as +occurring throughout the inorganic world.” This +implies that I attribute all the phenomena of memory as we see +them in animals to such things as stones and gases. Mr. +Romanes knows very well that I have never said anything which +could warrant his attempting to put the absurdity into my mouth +which he here tries to do. The reader who wishes to see +what I do maintain upon this subject will find it on pp. 216-218 +of the present volume.</p> +<h2><!-- page 255--><a name="page255"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 255</span>EXTRACTS FROM “ALPS AND +SANCTUARIES OP PIEDMONT AND THE CANTON TICINO.”</h2> +<h3>DALPE, PRATO, ROSSURA. (<span class="smcap">from +chapter iii. of alps and sanctuaries</span>.) <a +name="citation255"></a><a href="#footnote255" +class="citation">[255]</a></h3> +<p>Talking of legs, as I went through the main street of Dalpe an +old lady of about sixty-five stopped me, and told me that while +gathering her winter store of firewood she had had the misfortune +to hurt her leg. I was very sorry, but I failed to satisfy +her; the more I sympathised in general terms, the more I felt +that something further was expected of me. I went on trying +to do the civil thing, when the old lady cut me short by saying +it would be much better if I were to see the leg at once; so she +showed it me in the street, and there, sure enough, close to the +groin there was a swelling. Again I said how sorry I was, +and added that perhaps she ought to show it to a medical +man. “But aren’t <i>you</i> a medical +man?” said she in an alarmed manner. “Certainly +not, ma’am,” replied I. “Then why did you +let me show you my leg?” said she indignantly, and pulling +her clothes down, the poor old woman began to hobble off; +presently two others joined her, and I heard hearty peals of +laughter as she <!-- page 256--><a name="page256"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 256</span>recounted her story. A +stranger visiting these out-of-the-way villages is almost certain +to be mistaken for a doctor. What business, they say to +themselves, can any one else have there, and who in his senses +would dream of visiting them for pleasure? This old lady +had rushed to the usual conclusion, and had been trying to get a +little advice gratis.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>The little objects looking like sentry-boxes that go all round +Prato Church contain rough modern frescoes representing, if I +remember rightly, the events attendant upon the +crucifixion. These are on a small scale what the chapels on +the sacred mountain of Varallo are on a large one. Small +single oratories are scattered about all over the Canton Ticino, +and indeed everywhere in North Italy, by the road-side, at all +halting-places, and especially at the crest of any more marked +ascent, where the tired wayfarer, probably heavy laden, might be +inclined to say a naughty word or two if not checked. The +people like them, and miss them when they come to England. +They sometimes do what the lower animals do in confinement when +precluded from habits they are accustomed to, and put up with +strange makeshifts by way of substitute. I once saw a poor +Ticinese woman kneeling in prayer before a dentist’s +show-case in the Hampstead Road; she doubtless mistook the teeth +for the relics of some saint. I am afraid she was a little +like a hen sitting upon a chalk egg, but she seemed quite +contented.</p> +<p>Which of us, indeed, does not sit contentedly enough upon +chalk eggs at times? And what would life be but for the +power to do so? We do not sufficiently realise the part +which illusion has played in our <!-- page 257--><a +name="page257"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +257</span>development. One of the prime requisites for +evolution is a certain power for adaptation to varying +circumstances, that is to say, of plasticity, bodily and +mental. But the power of adaptation is mainly dependent on +the power of thinking certain new things sufficiently like +certain others to which we have been accustomed for us not to be +too much incommoded by the change—upon the power, in fact, +of mistaking the new for the old. The power of fusing ideas +(and through ideas, structures) depends upon the power of +<i>con</i>fusing them; the power to confuse ideas that are not +very unlike, and that are presented to us in immediate sequence, +is mainly due to the fact of the impetus, so to speak, which the +mind has upon it. It is this which bars association from +sticking to the letter of its bond; for we are in a hurry to jump +to a conclusion on the first show of plausible pretext, and cut +association’s statement of claim short by taking it as read +before we have got through half of it. We “get it +into our notes, in fact,” as Mr. Justice Stareleigh did in +Pickwick, and having got it once in, we are not going to get it +out again. This breeds fusion and confusion, and from this +there come new developments.</p> +<p>So powerful is the impetus which the mind has continually upon +it that we always, I believe, make an effort to see every new +object as a repetition of the object last before us. +Objects are so varied and present themselves so rapidly, that as +a general rule we renounce this effort too promptly to notice it, +but it is always there, and as I have just said, it is because of +it that we are able to mistake, and hence to evolve new mental +and bodily developments. Where the effort is successful, +there is illusion; where nearly successful but not quite, there +is a shock and a sense <!-- page 258--><a +name="page258"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 258</span>of being +puzzled—more or less, as the case may be; where it so +obviously impossible as not to be pursued, there is no perception +of the effort at all.</p> +<p>Mr. Locke has been greatly praised for his essay upon human +understanding. An essay on human misunderstanding should be +no less interesting and important. Illusion to a small +extent is one of the main causes, if indeed it is not the main +cause, of progress, but it must be upon a small scale. All +abortive speculation, whether commercial or philosophical, is +based upon it, and much as we may abuse such speculation, we are, +all of us, its debtors.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>I know few things more touching in their way than the porch of +Rossura Church: it is dated early in the last century, and is +absolutely without ornament; the flight of steps inside it lead +up to the level of the floor of the church. One lovely +summer Sunday morning passing the church betimes, I saw the +people kneeling upon these steps, the church within being +crammed. In the darker light of the porch, they told out +against the sky that showed through the open arch beyond them; +far away the eye rested on the mountains—deep blue, save +where the snow still lingered. I never saw anything more +beautiful—and these forsooth are the people whom so many of +us think to better by distributing tracts about Protestantism +among them!</p> +<p>I liked the porch almost best under an aspect which it no +longer presents. One summer an opening was made in the west +wall, which was afterwards closed because the wind blew through +it too much and made the church too cold. While it was +open, one could sit on the church steps and look down through it +on to the bottom of the Ticino valley; and through the <!-- page +259--><a name="page259"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +259</span>windows one could see the slopes about Dalpe and +Cornone. Between the two windows there is a picture of +austere old S. Carlo Borromeo with his hands joined in +prayer.</p> +<p>It was at Rossura that I made the acquaintance of a word which +I have since found very largely used throughout North +Italy. It is pronounced “chow” pure and simple, +but is written, if written at all, “ciau” or +“ciao,” the “a” being kept very +broad. I believe the word is derived from +“schiavo,” a slave, which became corrupted into +“schiao,” and “ciao.” It is used +with two meanings, both of which, however, are deducible from the +word slave. In its first and more common use it is simply a +salute, either on greeting or taking leave, and means, “I +am your very obedient servant.” Thus, if one has been +talking to a small child, its mother will tell it to say +“chow” before it goes away, and will then nod her +head and say “chow” herself. The other use is a +kind of pious expletive, intending “I must endure +it,” “I am the slave of a higher power.” +It was in this sense I first heard it at Rossura. A woman +was washing at a fountain while I was eating my lunch. She +said she had lost her daughter in Paris a few weeks +earlier. “She was a beautiful woman,” said the +bereaved mother, “but—chow. She had great +talents—chow. I had her educated by the nuns of +Bellinzona—chow. Her knowledge of geography was +consummate—chow, chow,” &c. Here +“chow” means “pazienza,” “I have +done and said all that I can, and must now bear it as best I +may.”</p> +<p>I tried to comfort her, but could do nothing, till at last it +occurred to me to say “chow” too. I did so, and +was astonished at the soothing effect it had upon her. How +subtle are the laws that govern consolation! <!-- page +260--><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 260</span>I +suppose they must ultimately be connected with +reproduction—the consoling idea being a kind of small cross +which <i>re-generates</i> or <i>re-creates</i> the +sufferer. It is important, therefore, that the new ideas +with which the old are to be crossed should differ from these +last sufficiently to divert the attention, and yet not so much as +to cause a painful shock.</p> +<p>There should be a little shock, or there will be no variation +in the new ideas that are generated, but they will resemble those +that preceded them, and grief will be continued; there must not +be too great a shock or there will be no illusion—no +confusion and fusion between the new set of ideas and the old, +and in consequence there will be no result at all, or, if any, an +increase in mental discord. We know very little, however, +upon this subject, and are continually shown to be at fault by +finding an unexpectedly small cross produce a wide diversion of +the mental images, while in other cases a wide one will produce +hardly any result. Sometimes again, a cross which we should +have said was much too wide will have an excellent effect. +I did not anticipate, for example, that my saying +“chow” would have done much for the poor woman who +had lost her daughter: the cross did not seem wide enough: she +was already, as I thought, saturated with +“chow.” I can only account for the effect my +application of it produced by supposing the word to have derived +some element of strangeness and novelty as coming from a +foreigner—just as land which will give a poor crop, if +planted with sets from potatoes that have been grown for three or +four years on this same soil, will yet yield excellently if +similar sets be brought from twenty miles off. For the +potato, so far as I have studied it, is a good-tempered, +frivolous plant, <!-- page 261--><a name="page261"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 261</span>easily amused and easily bored, and +one, moreover, which if bored, yawns horribly.</p> +<p>I may say in passing that the tempers of plants have not been +sufficiently studied; and what little opinion we have formed +about their dispositions is for the most part ill formed. +The sulkiest tree that I know is the silver beech. It never +forgives a scratch.—There is a tree in Kensington gardens a +little off the west side of the Serpentine with names cut upon it +as long ago as 1717 and 1736, which the tree is as little able to +forgive and forget as though the injury had been done not ten +years since. And the tree is not an aged tree either.</p> +<h3><!-- page 262--><a name="page262"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 262</span>CALONICO. (<span +class="smcap">from chapter v. of alps and +sanctuaries</span>.)</h3> +<p>Our inventions increase in geometrical ratio. They are +like living beings, each one of which may become parent of a +dozen others—some good and some ne’er-do-weels; but +they differ from animals and vegetables inasmuch as they not only +increase in a geometrical ratio, but the period of their +gestation decreases in geometrical ratio also. Take this +matter of Alpine roads for example. For how many millions +of years was there no approach to a road over the St. Gothard, +save the untutored watercourses of the Ticino and the Reuss, and +the track of the bouquetin or the chamois? For how many +more ages after this was there not a mere shepherd’s or +huntsman’s path by the river-side—without so much as +a log thrown over so as to form a rude bridge? No one would +probably have ever thought of making a bridge out of his own +unaided imagination, more than any monkey that we know of has +done so. But an avalanche or a flood once swept a pine into +position and left it there; on this a genius, who was doubtless +thought to be doing something very infamous, ventured to make use +of it. Another time a pine was found nearly across the +stream, but not quite; and not quite, again, in the place where +it was wanted. A second genius, to the horror of his +fellow-tribesmen—who declared that this <!-- page 263--><a +name="page263"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 263</span>time the +world really would come to an end—shifted the pine a few +feet so as to bring it across the stream and into the place where +it was wanted. This man was the inventor of +bridges—his family repudiated him, and he came to a bad +end. From this to cutting down the pine and bringing it +from some distance is an easy step. To avoid detail, let us +come to the old Roman horse-road over the Alps. The time +between the shepherd’s path and the Roman road is probably +short in comparison with that between the mere chamois track and +the first thing that can be called a path of men. From the +Roman we go on to the mediæval road with more frequent +stone bridges, and from the mediæval to the Napoleonic +carriage-road.</p> +<p>The close of the last century and the first quarter of this +present one was the great era for the making of +carriage-roads. Fifty years have hardly passed, and here we +are already in the age of tunnelling and railroads. The +first period, from the chamois track to the foot road, was one of +millions of years; the second, from the first foot road to the +Roman military way, was one of many thousands; the third, from +the Roman to the mediæval, was perhaps a thousand; from the +mediæval to the Napoleonic, five hundred; from the +Napoleonic to the railroad, fifty. What will come next we +know not, but it should come within twenty years, and will +probably have something to do with electricity.</p> +<p>It follows by an easy process of reasoning that after another +couple of hundred years or so, great sweeping changes should be +made several times in an hour, or indeed in a second, or fraction +of a second, till they pass unnoticed as the revolutions we +undergo in the embryonic stages, or are felt simply as +vibrations. <!-- page 264--><a name="page264"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 264</span>This would undoubtedly be the case +but for the existence of a friction which interferes between +theory and practice. This friction is caused partly by the +disturbance of vested interests which every invention involves, +and which will be found intolerable when men become millionaires +and paupers alternately once a fortnight—living one week in +a palace and the next in a workhouse, and having perpetually to +be sold up, and then to buy a new house and refurnish, +&c.—so that artificial means for stopping inventions +will be adopted; and partly by the fact that though all +inventions breed in geometrical ratio, yet some multiply more +rapidly than others, and the backwardness of one art will impede +the forwardness of another. At any rate, so far as I can +see, the present is about the only comfortable time for a man to +live in, that either ever has been or ever will be. The +past was too slow, and the future will be much too fast.</p> +<p>The fact is (but it is so obvious that I am ashamed to say +anything about it) that science is rapidly reducing time and +space to a very undifferentiated condition. Take lamb: we +can get lamb all the year round. This is perpetual spring; +but perpetual spring is no spring at all; it is not a season; +there are no more seasons, and being no seasons, there is no +time. Take rhubarb, again. Rhubarb to the philosopher +is the beginning of autumn, if indeed the philosopher can see +anything as the beginning of anything. If any one asks why, +I suppose the philosopher would say that rhubarb is the beginning +of the fruit season, which is clearly autumnal, according to our +present classification. From rhubarb to the green +gooseberry the step is so small as to require no +bridging—with one’s eyes shut, and plenty of cream +and sugar, they <!-- page 265--><a name="page265"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 265</span>are almost +indistinguishable—but the gooseberry is quite an autumnal +fruit, and only a little earlier than apples and plums, which +last are almost winter; clearly, therefore, for scientific +purposes rhubarb is autumnal.</p> +<p>As soon as we can find gradations, or a sufficient number of +uniting links between two things, they become united or made one +thing, and any classification of them must be illusory. +Classification is only possible where there is a shock given to +the senses by reason of a perceived difference, which, if it is +considerable, can be expressed in words. When the world was +younger and less experienced, people were shocked at what +appeared great differences between living forms; but species, +whether of animals or plants, are now seen to be so united, +either inferentially or by actual finding of the links, that all +classification is felt to be arbitrary. The seasons are +like species—they were at one time thought to be clearly +marked, and capable of being classified with some approach to +satisfaction. It is now seen that they blend either in the +present or the past insensibly into one another, much as Mr. +Herbert Spencer shows us that geology and astronomy blend into +one another, <a name="citation265"></a><a href="#footnote265" +class="citation">[265]</a> and cannot be classified except by +cutting Gordian knots in a way which none but plain sensible +people can tolerate. Strictly speaking, there is only one +place, one time, one action, and one individual or thing; of this +thing or individual each one of us is a part. It is +perplexing, but it is philosophy; and modern philosophy, like +modern music, is nothing if it is not perplexing.</p> +<p>A simple verification of the autumnal character of rhubarb +may, at first sight, appear to be found in Covent Garden Market, +where we can actually see <!-- page 266--><a +name="page266"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 266</span>the rhubarb +towards the end of October. But this way of looking at the +matter argues a fatal ineptitude for the pursuit of true +philosophy. It would be “the most serious +error” to regard the rhubarb that will appear in Covent +Garden Market next October as belonging to the autumn then +supposed to be current. Practically, no doubt, it does so, +but theoretically it must be considered as the first-fruits of +the autumn (if any) of the following year, which begins before +the preceding summer (or, perhaps, more strictly, the preceding +summer but one—and hence, but any number), has well +ended. Whether this, however, is so or no, the rhubarb can +be seen in Covent Garden, and I am afraid it must be admitted +that to the philosophically minded there lurks within it a theory +of evolution, and even Pantheism, as surely as Theism was lurking +in Bishop Berkeley’s tar-water.</p> +<p>To return, however, to Calonico. The <i>curato</i> was +very kind to me. We had long talks together. I could +see it pained him that I was not a Catholic. He could never +quite get over this, but he was very good and tolerant. He +was anxious to be assured that I was not one of those English who +went about distributing tracts, and trying to convert +people. This of course was the last thing I should have +wished to do; and when I told him so, he viewed me with sorrow +but henceforth without alarm.</p> +<p>All the time I was with him I felt how much I wished I could +be a Catholic in Catholic countries, and a Protestant in +Protestant ones. Surely there are some things which like +politics are too serious to be taken quite seriously. +<i>Surtout point de zèle</i> is not the saying of a cynic, +but the conclusion of a sensible man; and the more deep our +feeling is about any <!-- page 267--><a name="page267"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 267</span>matter, the more occasion have we to +be on our guard against <i>zèle</i> in this particular +respect. There is but one step from the +“earnest” to the “intense.” When +St. Paul told us to be all things to all men he let in the thin +end of the wedge, nor did he mark it to say how far it was to be +driven.</p> +<p>I have Italian friends whom I greatly value, and who tell me +they think I flirt just a trifle too much with “<i>il +partito nero</i>,” when I am in Italy, for they know that +in the main I think as they do. “These people,” +they say, “make themselves very agreeable to you, and show +you their smooth side; we, who see more of them, know their rough +one. Knuckle under to them, and they will perhaps +condescend to patronise you; have any individuality of your own, +and they know neither scruple nor remorse in their attempts to +get you out of their way. ‘<i>Il prete</i>’ +they say, with a significant look, ‘<i>è sempre +prete</i>.’ For the future let us have professors and +men of science instead of priests.”</p> +<p>I smile to myself at this last, and reply, that I am a +foreigner come among them for recreation, and anxious to keep +clear of their internal discords. I do not wish to cut +myself off from one side of their national character—a side +which, in some respects, is no less interesting than the one with +which I suppose I am on the whole more sympathetic. If I +were an Italian, I should feel bound to take a side; as it is, I +wish to leave all quarrelling behind me, having as much of that +in England as suffices to keep me in good health and temper.</p> +<p>In old times people gave their spiritual and intellectual sop +to Nemesis. Even when most positive, they admitted a +percentage of doubt. Mr. Tennyson <!-- page 268--><a +name="page268"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 268</span>has said +well, “There lives more doubt”—I quote from +memory—“in honest faith, believe me, than in half +the” systems of philosophy, or words to that effect. +The victor had a slave at his ear during his triumph; the slaves +during the Roman Saturnalia, dressed in their masters’ +clothes, sat at meat with them, told them of their faults, and +blacked their faces for them. They made their masters wait +upon them. In the ages of faith, an ass dressed in +sacerdotal robes was gravely conducted to the cathedral choir at +a certain season, and mass was said before him, and hymns chanted +discordantly. The elder D’Israeli, from whom I am +quoting, writes: “On other occasions, they put burnt old +shoes to fume in the censors: ran about the church leaping, +singing, dancing, and playing at dice upon the altar, while a +<i>boy bishop</i> or <i>pope of fools</i> burlesqued the divine +service;” and later on he says: “So late as 1645, a +pupil of Gassendi, writing to his master what he himself +witnessed at Aix on the Feast of Innocents, says—‘I +have seen in some monasteries in this province extravagances +solemnised which pagans would not have practised. Neither +the clergy nor the guardians indeed go to the choir on this day, +but all is given up to the lay brethren, the cabbage-cutters, +errand boys, cooks, scullions, and gardeners; in a word, all the +menials fill their places in the church, and insist that they +perform the offices proper for the day. They dress +themselves with all the sacerdotal ornaments, but torn to rags, +or wear them inside out: they hold in their hands the books +reversed or sideways, which they pretend to read with large +spectacles without glasses, and to which they fix the rinds of +scooped oranges . . . ! particularly while dangling the censers +they keep shaking them in derision, and letting the <!-- page +269--><a name="page269"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +269</span>ashes fly about their heads and faces, one against the +other. In this equipage they neither sing hymns nor psalms +nor masses, but mumble a certain gibberish as shrill and +squeaking as a herd of pigs whipped on to market. The +nonsense verses they chant are singularly barbarous:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“‘Hæc est clara dies, clararum +clara dierum,<br /> +Hæc est festa dies festarum festa dierum.’” <a +name="citation269"></a><a href="#footnote269" +class="citation">[269]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>Faith was far more assured in the times when the spiritual +saturnalia were allowed than now. The irreverence which was +not dangerous then, is now intolerable. It is a bad sign +for a man’s peace in his own convictions when he cannot +stand turning the canvas of his life occasionally upside down, or +reversing it in a mirror, as painters do with their pictures that +they may judge the better concerning them. I would persuade +all Jews, Mohammedans, Comtists, and freethinkers to turn high +Anglicans, or better still, downright Catholics for a week in +every year, and I would send people like Mr. Gladstone to attend +Mr. Bradlaugh’s lectures in the forenoon, and the Grecian +pantomime in the evening, two or three times every winter. +I should perhaps tell them that the Grecian pantomime has nothing +to do with Greek plays. They little know how much more +keenly they would relish their normal opinions during the rest of +the year for the little spiritual outing which I would prescribe +for them, which, after all, is but another phase of the wise +saying—“<i>Surtout point de +zèle</i>.” St. Paul attempted an obviously +hopeless task (as the Church of Rome very well understands) when +he tried to put down seasonarianism. People must and will +go to church to <!-- page 270--><a name="page270"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 270</span>be a little better, to the theatre +to be a little naughtier, to the Royal Institution to be a little +more scientific, than they are in actual life. It is only +by pulsations of goodness, naughtiness, and whatever else we +affect that we can get on at all. I grant that when in his +office, a man should be exact and precise, but our holidays are +our garden, and too much precision here is a mistake.</p> +<p>Surely truces, without even an <i>arrière +pensée</i> of difference of opinion, between those who are +compelled to take widely different sides during the greater part +of their lives, must be of infinite service to those who can +enter on them. There are few merely spiritual pleasures +comparable to that derived from the temporary laying down of a +quarrel, even though we may know that it must be renewed +shortly. It is a great grief to me that there is no place +where I can go among Mr. Darwin, Professors Huxley, Tyndal, and +Ray Lankester, Miss Buckley, Mr. Romanes, Mr. Grant Allen and +others whom I cannot call to mind at this moment, as I can go +among the Italian priests. I remember in one monastery (but +this was not in the Canton Ticino) the novice taught me how to +make sacramental wafers, and I played him Handel on the organ as +well as I could. I told him that Handel was a Catholic; he +said he could tell that by his music at once. There is no +chance of getting among our scientists in this way.</p> +<p>Some friends say I was telling a lie when I told the novice +Handel was a Catholic, and ought not to have done so. I +make it a rule to swallow a few gnats a day, lest I should come +to strain at them, and so bolt camels; but the whole question of +lying is difficult. What <i>is</i> +“lying”? Turning for moral guidance to <!-- +page 271--><a name="page271"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +271</span>my cousins the lower animals, whose unsophisticated +nature proclaims what God has taught them with a directness we +may sometimes study, I find the plover lying when she lures us +from her young ones under the fiction of a broken wing. Is +God angry, think you, with this pretty deviation from the letter +of strict accuracy? or was it not He who whispered to her to tell +the falsehood—to tell it with a circumstance, without +conscientious scruple, not once only, but to make a practice of +it so as to be a plausible, habitual, and professional liar for +some six weeks or so in the year? I imagine so. When +I was young I used to read in good books that it was God who +taught the bird to make her nest, and if so He probably taught +each species the other domestic arrangements best suited to +it. Or did the nest-building information come from God, and +was there an evil one among the birds also who taught them at any +rate to steer clear of priggishness?</p> +<p>Think of the spider again—an ugly creature, but I +suppose God likes it. What a mean and odious lie is that +web which naturalists extol as such a marvel of ingenuity!</p> +<p>Once on a summer afternoon in a far country I met one of those +orchids who make it their business to imitate a fly with their +petals. This lie they dispose so cunningly that real flies, +thinking the honey is being already plundered, pass them without +molesting them. Watching intently and keeping very still, +methought I heard this orchid speaking to the offspring which she +felt within her, though I saw them not. “My +children,” she exclaimed, “I must soon leave you; +think upon the fly, my loved ones, for this is truth; cling to +this great thought in your passage <!-- page 272--><a +name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 272</span>through +life, for it is the one thing needful; once lose sight of it and +you are lost!” Over and over again she sang this +burden in a small still voice, and so I left her. Then +straightway I came upon some butterflies whose profession it was +to pretend to believe in all manner of vital truths which in +their inner practice they rejected; thus, asserting themselves to +be certain other and hateful butterflies which no bird will eat +by reason of their abominable smell, these cunning ones conceal +their own sweetness, and live long in the land and see good +days. No: lying is so deeply rooted in nature that we may +expel it with a fork, and yet it will always come back again: it +is like the poor, we must have it always with us. We must +all eat a peck of moral dirt before we die.</p> +<p>All depends upon who it is that is lying. One man may +steal a horse when another may not look over a hedge. The +good man who tells no lies wittingly to himself and is never +unkindly, may lie and lie and lie whenever he chooses to other +people, and he will not be false to any man: his lies become +truths as they pass into the hearers’ ear. If a man +deceives himself and is unkind, the truth is not in him; it turns +to falsehood while yet in his mouth, like the quails in the +Wilderness of Sinai. How this is so or why, I know not, but +that the Lord hath mercy on whom He will have mercy and whom He +willeth He hardeneth. My Italian friends are doubtless in +the main right about the priests, but there are many exceptions, +as they themselves gladly admit. For my own part I have +found the <i>curato</i> in the small subalpine villages of North +Italy to be more often than not a kindly excellent man to whom I +am attracted by sympathies deeper than any mere superficial +differences of opinion <!-- page 273--><a +name="page273"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 273</span>can +counteract. With monks, however, as a general rule, I am +less able to get on: nevertheless I have received much courtesy +at the hands of some.</p> +<p>My young friend the novice was delightful—only it was so +sad to think of the future that is before him. He wanted to +know all about England, and when I told him it was an island, +clasped his hands and said, “Oh che +Providenza!” He told me how the other young men of +his own age plagued him as he trudged his rounds high up among +the most distant hamlets begging alms for the poor. +“Be a good fellow,” they would say to him, +“drop all this nonsense and come back to us, and we will +never plague you again.” Then he would turn upon them +and put their words from him. Of course my sympathies were +with the other young men rather than with him, but it was +impossible not to be sorry for the manner in which he had been +humbugged from the day of his birth, till he was now incapable of +seeing things from any other standpoint than that of +authority.</p> +<p>What he said to me about knowing that Handel was a Catholic by +his music, put me in mind of what another good Catholic once said +to me about a picture. He was a Frenchman and very nice, +but a <i>dévot</i>, and anxious to convert me. He +paid a few days’ visit to London, so I showed him the +National Gallery. While there I pointed out to him +Sebastian del Piombo’s picture of the raising of Lazarus as +one of the supposed masterpieces of our collection. He had +the proper orthodox fit of admiration over it, and then we went +through the other rooms. After a while we found ourselves +before West’s picture of “Christ healing the +Sick.” My French friend did not, I suppose, examine +it very carefully, at any rate he believed he was again <!-- page +274--><a name="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +274</span>before the raising of Lazarus by Sebastian del Piombo; +he paused before it, and had his fit of admiration over again: +then turning to me he said, “Ah! you would understand this +picture better if you were a Catholic.” I did not +tell him of his mistake.</p> +<h3><!-- page 275--><a name="page275"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 275</span>PIORA. (<span +class="smcap">from chapter vi. of alps and sanctuaries</span>.) +<a name="citation275"></a><a href="#footnote275" +class="citation">[275]</a></h3> +<p>An excursion which may be very well made from Faido is to the +Val Piora, which I have already more than once mentioned. +There is a large hotel here which has been opened some years, but +has not hitherto proved the success which it was hoped it would +be. I have stayed there two or three times and found it +very comfortable; doubtless, now that Signer Lombardi of the +Hotel Prosa has taken it, it will become a more popular place of +resort.</p> +<p>I took a trap from Faido to Ambri, and thence walked over to +Quinto; here the path begins to ascend, and after an hour Ronco +is reached. There is a house at Ronco where refreshments +and excellent Faido beer can be had. The old lady who keeps +the house would make a perfect Fate; I saw her sitting at her +window spinning, and looking down over the Ticino valley as +though it were the world and she were spinning its destiny. +She had a somewhat stern expression, thin lips, iron-grey eyes, +and an aquiline nose; her scanty locks straggled from under the +handkerchief which she wore round her head. Her employment +and the wistful far-away look she cast upon the expanse below +made a very fine <i>ensemble</i>. “She would have +afforded,” <!-- page 276--><a name="page276"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 276</span>as Sir Walter Scott says, “a +study for a Rembrandt, had that celebrated painter existed at the +period,” <a name="citation276"></a><a href="#footnote276" +class="citation">[276]</a> but she must have been a +smart-looking, handsome girl once.</p> +<p>She brightened up in conversation. I talked about Piora, +which I already knew, and the <i>Lago Tom</i>, the highest of the +three lakes. She said she knew the <i>Lago Tom</i>. I +said laughingly, “Oh, I have no doubt you do. +We’ve had many a good day at the <i>Lago Tom</i>, I +know.” She looked down at once.</p> +<p>In spite of her nearly eighty years she was active as a woman +of forty, and altogether she was a very grand old lady. Her +house is scrupulously clean. While I watched her spinning, +I thought of what must so often occur to summer visitors. I +mean what sort of a look-out the old woman must have in winter, +when the wind roars and whistles, and the snow drives down the +valley with a fury of which we in England can have little +conception. What a place to see a snowstorm from! and what +a place from which to survey the landscape next morning after the +storm is over and the air is calm and brilliant. There are +such mornings: I saw one once, but I was at the bottom of the +valley and not high up, as at Ronco. Ronco would take a +little sun even in midwinter, but at the bottom of the valley +there is no sun for weeks and weeks together; all is in deep +shadow below, though the upper hill-sides may be seen to have the +sun upon them. I walked once on a frosty winter’s +morning from Airolo to Giornico, and can call to mind nothing in +its way more beautiful: everything was locked in +frost—there was not a watershed but was sheeted and coated +with ice: the road was hard as granite—<!-- page 277--><a +name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 277</span>all was +quiet, and seen as through a dark but incredibly transparent +medium. Near Piotta I met the whole village dragging a +large tree; there were many men and women dragging at it, but +they had to pull hard, and they were silent; as I passed them I +thought what comely, well-begotten people they were. Then, +looking up, there was a sky, cloudless and of the deepest blue, +against which the snow-clad mountains stood out splendidly. +No one will regret a walk in these valleys during the depth of +winter. But I should have liked to have looked down from +the sun into the sunlessness, as the old Fate woman at Ronco can +do when she sits in winter at her window; or again, I should like +to see how things would look from this same window on a leaden +morning in midwinter after snow has fallen heavily and the sky is +murky and much darker than the earth. When the storm is at +its height, the snow must search and search and search even +through the double windows with which the houses are +protected. It must rest upon the frames of the pictures of +saints, and of the sisters “grab,” and of the last +hours of Count Ugolino, which adorn the walls of the +parlour. No wonder there is a <i>S. Maria della +Neve</i>,—a “St. Mary of the Snow;” but I do +wonder that she has not been painted.</p> +<p>I said this to an Italian once, and he said the reason was +probably this—that St. Mary of the Snow was not developed +till long after Italian art had begun to decline. I suppose +in another hundred years or so we shall have a <i>St. Maria delle +Ferrovie</i>—a St. Mary of the Railways.</p> +<p>From Ronco the path keeps level and then descends a little so +as to cross the stream that comes down from Piora. This is +near the village of Altanca, the church of which looks remarkably +well from here. Then there <!-- page 278--><a +name="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 278</span>is an hour +and a half’s rapid ascent, and at last all on a sudden one +finds oneself on the <i>Lago Ritom</i>, close to the hotel.</p> +<p>The lake is about a mile, or a mile and a half, long, and half +a mile broad. It is 6000 feet above the sea, very deep at +the lower end, and does not freeze where the stream issues from +it, so that the magnificent trout with which it abounds can get +air and live through the winter. In many other lakes, as, +for example, the <i>Lago di Tremorgio</i>, they cannot do this, +and hence perish, though the lakes have been repeatedly +stocked. The trout in the <i>Lago Ritom</i> are said to be +the finest in the world, and certainly I know none so fine +myself. They grow to be as large as moderate-sized salmon, +and have a deep-red flesh, very firm and full of flavour. I +had two cutlets off one for breakfast, and should have said they +were salmon unless I had known otherwise. In winter, when +the lake is frozen over, the people bring their hay from the +farther Lake of Cadagna in sledges across the Lake Ritom. +Here, again, winter must be worth seeing, but on a rough snowy +day Piora must be an awful place. There are a few stunted +pines near the hotel, but the hillsides are for the most part +bare and green. Piora in fact is a fine breezy open upland +valley of singular beauty, and with a sweet atmosphere of cow +about it; it is rich in rhododendrons and all manner of Alpine +flowers, just a trifle bleak, but as bracing as the Engadine +itself.</p> +<p>The first night I was ever in Piora there was a brilliant +moon, and the unruffled surface of the lake took the reflection +of the mountains. I could see the cattle a mile off, and +hear the tinkling of their bells which danced multitudinously +before the ear as fire-flies come and go before the eyes; for all +through a fine summer’s night <!-- page 279--><a +name="page279"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 279</span>the cattle +will feed as though it were day. A little above the lake I +came upon a man in a cave before a furnace, burning lime, and he +sat looking into the fire with his back to the moonlight. +He was a quiet moody man, and I am afraid I bored him, for I +could get hardly anything out of him but “Oh +altro”—polite but not communicative. So after a +while I left him with his face burnished as with gold from the +fire, and his back silver with the moonbeams; behind him were the +pastures and the reflections in the lake and the mountains and +the distant ringing of the cowbells.</p> +<p>Then I wandered on till I came to the chapel of S. Carlo; and +in a few minutes found myself on the <i>Lugo di +Cadagna</i>. Here I heard that there were people, and the +people were not so much asleep as the simple peasantry of these +upland valleys are expected to be by nine o’clock in the +evening. For now was the time when they had moved up from +Ronco, Altanca, and other villages in some numbers to cut the +hay, and were living for a fortnight or three weeks in the +chalets upon the <i>Lago di Cadagna</i>. As I have said, +there is a chapel, but I doubt whether it is attended during this +season with the regularity with which the parish churches of +Ronco, Altanca, &c., are attended during the rest of the +year. The young people, I am sure, like these annual visits +to the high places, and will be hardly weaned from them. +Happily the hay will be always there, and will have to be cut by +some one, and the old people will send the young ones.</p> +<p>As I was thinking of these things, I found myself going off +into a doze, and thought the burnished man from the furnace came +up and sat beside me, and laid his hand upon my shoulder. +Then I saw the green slopes that rise all round the lake were +much higher <!-- page 280--><a name="page280"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 280</span>than I had thought; they went up +thousands of feet, and there were pine forests upon them, while +two large glaciers came down in streams that ended in a precipice +of ice, falling sheer into the lake. The edges of the +mountains against the sky were rugged and full of clefts, through +which I saw thick clouds of dust being blown by the wind as +though from the other side of the mountains.</p> +<p>And as I looked, I saw that this was not dust, but people +coming in crowds from the other side, but so small as to be +visible at first only as dust. And the people became +musicians, and the mountainous amphitheatre a huge orchestra, and +the glaciers were two noble armies of women-singers in white +robes, ranged tier above tier behind each other, and the pines +became orchestral players, while the thick dust-like cloud of +chorus-singers kept pouring in through the clefts in the +precipices in inconceivable numbers. When I turned my +telescope upon them I saw they were crowded up to the extreme +edge of the mountains, so that I could see underneath the soles +of their boots as their legs dangled in the air. In the +midst of all, a precipice that rose from out of the glaciers +shaped itself suddenly into an organ, and there was one whose +face I well knew sitting at the keyboard, smiling and pluming +himself like a bird as he thundered forth a giant fugue by way of +overture. I heard the great pedal notes in the bass stalk +majestically up and down, as the rays of the Aurora that go about +upon the face of the heavens off the coast of Labrador. +Then presently the people rose and sang the chorus “Venus +Laughing from the Skies;” but ere the sound had well died +away, I awoke, and all was changed; a light fleecy cloud had +filled the whole basin, but I still thought I <!-- page 281--><a +name="page281"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 281</span>heard a +sound of music, and a scampering-off of great crowds from the +part where the precipices should be. After that I heard no +more but a little singing from the chalets, and turned +homewards. When I got to the chapel of S. Carlo, I was in +the moonlight again, and when near the hotel, I passed the man at +the mouth of the furnace with the moon still gleaming upon his +back, and the fire upon his face, and he was very grave and +quiet.</p> +<h3><!-- page 282--><a name="page282"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 282</span>S. MICHELE AND MONTE +PIRCHIRIANO. (<span class="smcap">extracts from chapters +vii. and x. of alps and sanctuaries</span>.)</h3> +<p>The history of the sanctuary of S. Michele is briefly as +follows:—</p> +<p>At the close of the tenth century, when Otho III. was Emperor +of Germany, a certain Hugh de Montboissier, a noble of Auvergne, +commonly called “Hugh the Unsewn” (<i>lo +sdruscito</i>), was commanded by the Pope to found a monastery in +expiation of some grave offence. He chose for his site the +summit of the Monte Pirchiriano in the valley of Susa, being +attracted partly by the fame of a church already built there by a +recluse of Ravenna, Giovanni Vincenzo by name, and partly by the +striking nature of the situation. Hugh de Montboissier, +when returning from Rome to France with Isengarde his wife, +would, as a matter of course, pass through the valley of +Susa. The two—perhaps when stopping to dine at S. +Ambrogio—would look up and observe the church founded by +Giovannia Vincenzo: they had got to build a monastery somewhere; +it would very likely, therefore, occur to them that they could +not perpetuate their names better than by choosing this site, +which was on a much-travelled road, and on which a fine building +would show to advantage. If my view is correct, we have +here an <!-- page 283--><a name="page283"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 283</span>illustration of a fact which is +continually observable—namely, that all things which come +to much, whether they be books, buildings, pictures, music, or +living beings, are begotten of others of their own kind. It +is always the most successful, like Handel and Shakespeare, who +owe most to their forerunners, in spite of the modifications with +which their works descend.</p> +<p>Giovanni Vincenzo had built his church about the year +987. It is maintained by some that he had been bishop of +Ravenna, but Clareta gives sufficient reason for thinking +otherwise. In the “Cronaca Clusina” it is said +that he had for some years previously lived as a recluse on the +Monte Caprasio, to the north of the present Monte Pirchiriano; +but that one night he had a vision, in which he saw the summit of +Monte Pirchiriano enveloped in heaven-descended flames, and on +this founded a church there, and dedicated it to S. +Michael. This is the origin of the name Pirchiriano, which +means πυρ +κυριανος, or the +Lord’s fire.</p> +<p>Avogadro is among those who make Giovanni Bishop, or rather +Archbishop, of Ravenna, and gives the following account of the +circumstances which led to his resigning his diocese and going to +live at the top of the inhospitable Monte Caprasio. It +seems there had been a confirmation at Ravenna, during which he +had accidentally forgotten to confirm the child of a certain +widow. The child, being in weakly health, died before +Giovanni could repair his oversight, and this preyed upon his +mind. In answer, however, to his earnest prayers, it +pleased the Almighty to give him power to raise the dead child to +life again; this he did, and having immediately performed the +rite of confirmation, restored the boy to his overjoyed +mother. He now became so much revered that he began to be +<!-- page 284--><a name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +284</span>alarmed lest pride should obtain dominion over him; he +felt, therefore, that his only course was to resign his diocese, +and go and live the life of a recluse on the top of some high +mountain. It is said that he suffered agonies of doubt as +to whether it was not selfish of him to take such care of his own +eternal welfare, at the expense of that of his flock, whom no +successor could so well guide and guard from evil; but in the end +he took a reasonable view of the matter, and concluded that his +first duty was to secure his own spiritual position. +Nothing short of the top of a very uncomfortable mountain could +do this, so he at once resigned his bishopric and chose Monte +Caprasio as on the whole the most comfortable uncomfortable +mountain he could find.</p> +<p>The latter part of the story will seem strange to +Englishmen. We can hardly fancy the Archbishop of +Canterbury or York resigning his diocese and settling down +quietly on the top of Scafell or Cader Idris to secure his +eternal welfare. They would hardly do so even on the top of +Primrose Hill. But nine hundred years ago human nature was +not the same as now-a-days.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>Comparing our own clergy with the best North Italian and +Ticinese priests, I should say there was little to choose between +them. The latter are in a logically stronger position, and +this gives them greater courage in their opinions; the former +have the advantage in respect of money, and the more varied +knowledge of the world which money will command. When I say +Catholics have logically the advantage over Protestants, I mean +that starting from premises which both sides admit, a merely +logical Protestant <!-- page 285--><a name="page285"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 285</span>will find himself driven to the +Church of Rome. Most men as they grow older will, I think, +feel this, and they will see in it the explanation of the +comparatively narrow area over which the Reformation extended, +and of the gain which Catholicism has made of late years here in +England. On the other hand, reasonable people will look +with distrust upon too much reason. The foundations of +action lie deeper than reason can reach. They rest on +faith—for there is no absolutely certain incontrovertible +premise which can be laid by man, any more than there is any +investment for money or security in the daily affairs of life +which is absolutely unimpeachable. The Funds are not +absolutely safe; a volcano might break out under the Bank of +England. A railway journey is not absolutely safe; one +person at least in several millions gets killed. We invest +our money upon faith, mainly. We choose our doctor upon +faith, for how little independent judgment can we form concerning +his capacity? We choose schools for our children chiefly +upon faith. The most important things a man has are his +body, his soul, and his money. It is generally better for +him to commit these interests to the care of others of whom he +can know little, rather than be his own medical man, or invest +his money on his own judgment; and this is nothing else than +making a faith which lies deeper than reason can reach, the basis +of our action in those respects which touch us most nearly.</p> +<p>On the other hand, as good a case could be made out for +placing reason as the foundation, inasmuch as it would be easy to +show that a faith, to be worth anything, must be a reasonable +one—one, that is to say, which is based upon reason. +The fact is that faith and reason are like function and organ, +desire and power, or <!-- page 286--><a name="page286"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 286</span>demand and supply; it is impossible +to say which comes first: they come up hand in hand, and are so +small when we can first descry them, that it is impossible to say +which we first caught sight of. All we can now see is that +each has a tendency continually to outstrip the other by a +little, but by a very little only. Strictly they are not +two things, but two aspects of one thing; for convenience’ +sake, however, we classify them separately.</p> +<p>It follows, therefore—but whether it follows or no, it +is certainly true—that neither faith alone nor reason alone +is a sufficient guide: a man’s safety lies neither in faith +nor reason, but in temper—in the power of fusing faith and +reason, even when they appear most mutually destructive.</p> +<p>That we all feel temper to be the first thing is plain from +the fact that when we see two men quarrelling we seldom even try +to weigh their arguments—we look instinctively at the tone +or spirit or temper which the two display and give our verdict +accordingly.</p> +<p>A man of temper will be certain in spite of uncertainty, and +at the same time uncertain in spite of certainty; reasonable in +spite of his resting mainly upon faith rather than reason, and +full of faith even when appealing most strongly to reason. +If it is asked, In what should a man have faith? To what +faith should he turn when reason has led him to a conclusion +which he distrusts? the answer is, To the current feeling among +those whom he most looks up to—looking upon himself with +suspicion if he is either among the foremost or the +laggers. In the rough, homely common sense of the community +to which we belong we have as firm ground as can be got. +This, though not absolutely infallible, is secure enough for +practical purposes.</p> +<p>As I have said, Catholic priests have rather a fascination +<!-- page 287--><a name="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +287</span>for me—when they are not Englishmen. I +should say that the best North Italian priests are more openly +tolerant than our English clergy generally are. I remember +picking up one who was walking along a road, and giving him a +lift in my trap. Of course we fell to talking, and it came +out that I was a member of the Church of England. +“Ebbene, Caro Signore,” said he when we shook hands +at parting; “mi rincresce che lei non crede come io, ma in +questi tempi non possiamo avere tutti i medesimi +principii.” <a name="citation287"></a><a +href="#footnote287" class="citation">[287]</a></p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>The one thing, he said, which shocked him with the English, +was the manner in which they went about distributing tracts upon +the Continent. I said no one could deplore the practice +more profoundly than myself, but that there were stupid and +conceited people in every country, who would insist upon +thrusting their opinions upon people who did not want them. +He replied that the Italians travelled not a little in England, +but that he was sure not one of them would dream of offering +Catholic tracts to people, for example, in the streets of +London. Certainly I have never seen an Italian to be guilty +of such rudeness. It seems to me that it is not only +toleration that is a duty; we ought to go beyond this now; we +should conform, when we are among a sufficient number of those +who would not understand our refusal to do so; any other course +is to attach too much importance at once to our own opinions and +to those of our opponents. By all means let a man stand by +his convictions when the occasion requires, but let him reserve +his strength, unless it is imperatively called for. Do not +let him <!-- page 288--><a name="page288"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 288</span>exaggerate trifles, and let him +remember that everything is a trifle in comparison with the not +giving offence to a large number of kindly, simple-minded +people. Evolution, as we all know, is the great doctrine of +modern times; the very essence of evolution consists in the not +shocking anything too violently, but enabling it to mistake a new +action for an old one, without “making believe” too +much.</p> +<p>One day when I was eating my lunch near a fountain, there came +up a moody, meditative hen, crooning plaintively after her +wont. I threw her a crumb of bread while she was still a +good way off, and then threw more, getting her to come a little +closer and a little closer each time; at last she actually took a +piece from my hand. She did not quite like it, but she did +it. “A very little at a time,” this is the +evolution principle; and if we wish those who differ from us to +understand us, it is the only method to proceed upon. I +have sometimes thought that some of my friends among the priests +have been treating me as I treated the meditative hen. But +what of that? They will not kill and eat me, nor take my +eggs. Whatever, therefore, promotes a more friendly feeling +between us must be pure gain.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>Sometimes priests say things, as a matter of course, which +would make any English clergyman’s hair stand on end. +At one town there is a remarkable fourteenth-century bridge, +commonly known as “The Devil’s Bridge.” I +was sketching near this when a jolly old priest with a red nose +came up and began a conversation with me. He was evidently +a popular character, for every one who passed greeted him. +He told me that the devil did not really build the bridge. +I said <!-- page 289--><a name="page289"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 289</span>I presumed not, for he was not in +the habit of spending his time so well.</p> +<p>“I wish he had built it,” said my friend; +“for then perhaps he would build us some more.”</p> +<p>“Or we might even get a church out of him,” said +I, a little slyly.</p> +<p>“Ha, ha, ha! we will convert him, and make a good +Christian of him in the end.”</p> +<p>When will our Protestantism, or Rationalism, or whatever it +may be, sit as lightly upon ourselves?</p> +<p>Another time I had the following dialogue with an old +Piedmontese priest who lived in a castle which I asked permission +to go over:—</p> +<p>“Vous êtes Anglais, monsieur?” said he in +French.</p> +<p>“Oui, monsieur.”</p> +<p>“Vous êtes Catholique?”</p> +<p>“Monsieur, je suis de la religion de mes +ancêtres.”</p> +<p>“Pardon, monsieur, vos ancêtres étaient +Catholiques jusqu’au temps de Henri Huit.”</p> +<p>“Mais il y a trois cents ans depuis le temps de Henri +Huit.”</p> +<p>“Eh bien; chacun a ses convictions; vous ne parlez pas +contre la religion?”</p> +<p>“Jamais, jamais, monsieur, j’ai un respect enorme +pour l’église Catholique.”</p> +<p>“Monsieur, faites comme chez vous; allez ou vous voulez; +vous trouverez toutes les portes ouvertes. Amusez vous +bien.”</p> +<h3><!-- page 290--><a name="page290"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 290</span>CONSIDERATIONS ON THE DECLINE OF +ITALIAN ART. (<span class="smcap">from chapter xiii. of +alps and sanctuaries</span>.)</h3> +<p>Those who know the Italians will see no sign of decay about +them. They are the quickest-witted people in the world, and +at the same time have much more of the old Roman steadiness than +they are generally credited with. Not only is there no sign +of degeneration, but, as regards practical matters, there is +every sign of health and vigorous development. The North +Italians are more like Englishmen, both in body, and mind, than +any other people whom I know; I am continually meeting Italians +whom I should take for Englishmen if I did not know their +nationality. They have all our strong points, but they have +more grace and elasticity of mind than we have.</p> +<p>Priggishness is the sin which doth most easily beset +middle-class, and so-called educated Englishmen; we call it +purity and culture, but it does not much matter what we call +it. It is the almost inevitable outcome of a university +education, and will last as long as Oxford and Cambridge do, but +not much longer.</p> +<p>Lord Beaconsfield sent Lothair to Oxford; it is with great +pleasure that I see he did not send Endymion. My friend +Jones called my attention to this, and we noted that the growth +observable throughout Lord Beaconsfield’s life was +continued to the end. He was <!-- page 291--><a +name="page291"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 291</span>one of +those who, no matter how long he lived, would have been always +growing: this is what makes his later novels so much better than +those of Thackeray or Dickens. There was something of the +child about him to the last. Earnestness was his greatest +danger, but if he did not quite overcome it (as who indeed +can? It is the last enemy that shall be subdued), he +managed to veil it with a fair amount of success. As for +Endymion, of course if Lord Beaconsfield had thought Oxford would +be good for him, he could, as Jones pointed out to me, just as +well have killed Mr. Ferrars a year or two later. We feel +satisfied, therefore, that Endymion’s exclusion from a +university was carefully considered, and are glad.</p> +<p>I will not say that priggishness is absolutely unknown among +the North Italians; sometimes one comes upon a young Italian who +wants to learn German, but not often. Priggism, or whatever +the substantive is, is as essentially a Teutonic vice as holiness +is a Semitic characteristic; and if an Italian happens to be a +prig, he will, like Tacitus, invariably show a hankering after +German institutions. The idea, however, that the Italians +were ever a finer people than they are now, will not pass muster +with those who knew them.</p> +<p>At the same time, there can be no doubt that modern Italian +art is in many respects as bad as it was once good. I will +confine myself to painting only. The modern Italian +painters, with very few exceptions, paint as badly as we do, or +even worse, and their motives are as poor as is their +painting. At an exhibition of modern Italian pictures, I +generally feel that there is hardly a picture on the walls but is +a sham—that is to say, painted not from love of this +particular subject and an <!-- page 292--><a +name="page292"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +292</span>irresistible desire to paint it, but from a wish to +paint an academy picture, and win money or applause.</p> +<p>The last rays of the sunset of genuine art are to be found in +the votive pictures at Locarno or Oropa, and in many a wayside +chapel. In these, religious art still lingers as a living +language, however rudely spoken. In these alone is the +story told, not as in the Latin and Greek verses of the scholar, +who thinks he has succeeded best when he has most concealed his +natural manner of expressing himself, but by one who knows what +he wants to say, and says it in his mother-tongue, shortly, and +without caring whether or not his words are in accordance with +academic rules. I regret to see photography being +introduced for votive purposes, and also to detect in some places +a disposition on the part of the authorities to be a little +ashamed of these pictures and to place them rather out of +sight.</p> +<p>The question is, how has the falling-off in Italian painting +been caused? And by doing what may we again get Bellinis +and Andrea Mantegnas as in old time? The fault does not lie +in any want of raw material: nor yet does it lie in want of +taking pains. The modern Italian painter frets himself to +the full as much as his predecessor did—if the truth were +known, probably a great deal more. I am sure Titian did not +take much pains after he was more than about twenty years +old. It does not lie in want of schooling or art +education. For the last three hundred years, ever since the +Caraccis opened their academy at Bologna, there has been no lack +of art education in Italy. Curiously enough, the date of +the opening of the Bolognese Academy coincides as nearly as may +be with the complete decadence of Italian painting. The +academic system trains boys to study other people’s works +rather <!-- page 293--><a name="page293"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 293</span>than nature, and, as Leonardo da +Vinci so well says, it makes them nature’s grandchildren +and not her children. This I believe is at any rate half +the secret of the whole matter.</p> +<p>If half-a-dozen young Italians could be got together with a +taste for drawing; if they had power to add to their number; if +they were allowed to see paintings and drawings done up to the +year A.D. 1510, and votive pictures and the comic papers; if they +were left with no other assistance than this, absolutely free to +please themselves, and could be persuaded not to try and please +any one else, I believe that in fifty years we should have all +that was ever done repeated with fresh naïveté, and +as much more delightfully than even by the best old masters, as +these are more delightful than anything we know of in classic +painting. The young plants keep growing up abundantly every +day—look at Bastianini, dead not ten years since—but +they are browsed down by the academies. I remember there +came out a book many years ago with the title, “What +becomes of all the clever little children?” I never +saw the book, but the title is pertinent.</p> +<p>Any man who can write, can draw to a not inconsiderable +extent. Look at the Bayeux tapestry; yet Matilda probably +never had a drawing lesson in her life. See how well +prisoner after prisoner in the Tower of London has cut out this +or that in the stone of his prison wall, without, in all +probability, having ever tried his hand at drawing before. +Look at my friend Jones, who has several illustrations in this +book. <a name="citation294"></a><a href="#footnote294" +class="citation">[294]</a> The first year he went abroad +with me he could hardly draw at all. He was no year away +from England more <!-- page 294--><a name="page294"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 294</span>than three weeks. How did he +learn? On the old principle, if I am not mistaken. +The old principle was for a man to be doing something which he +was pretty strongly bent on doing, and to get a much younger one +to help him. The younger paid nothing for instruction, but +the elder took the work, as long as the relation of master and +pupil existed between them. I, then, was mailing +illustrations for this book, and got Jones to help me. I +let him see what I was doing, and derive an idea of the sort of +thing I wanted, and then left him alone—beyond giving him +the same kind of small criticism that I expected from +himself—but I appropriated his work. That is the way +to teach, and the result was that in an incredibly short time +Jones could draw. The taking the work is a <i>sine +quâ non</i>. If I had not been going to have his +work, Jones, in spite of all his quickness, would probably have +been rather slower in learning to draw. Being paid in money +is nothing like so good.</p> +<p>This is the system of apprenticeship <i>versus</i> the +academic system. The academic system consists in giving +people the rules for doing things. The apprenticeship +system consists in letting them do it, with just a trifle of +supervision. “For all a rhetorician’s +rules,” says my great namesake, “teach nothing but, +to name his tools;” and academic rules generally are much +the same as the rhetorician’s. Some men can pass +through academies unscathed, but they are very few, and in the +main the academic influence is a baleful one, whether exerted in +a university or a school. While young men at universities +are being prepared for their entry into life, their rivals have +already entered it. The most university and examination +ridden people in the world are the Chinese, and they are the +least progressive.</p> +<p><!-- page 295--><a name="page295"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +295</span>Men should learn to draw as they learn conveyancing: +they should go into a painter’s studio and paint on his +pictures. I am told that half the conveyances in the +country are drawn by pupils; there is no more mystery about +painting than about conveyancing—not half in fact, I should +think, so much. One may ask, How can the beginner paint, or +draw conveyances, till he has learnt how to do so? The +answer is, How can he learn, without at any rate trying to +do? It is the old story, organ and function, power and +desire, demand and supply, faith and reason, etc., the most +virtuous action and interaction in the most vicious circle +conceivable. If the beginner likes his subject, he will +try: if he tries, he will soon succeed in doing something which +shall open a door. It does not matter what a man does; so +long as he does it with the attention which affection engenders, +he will come to see his way to something else. After long +waiting he will certainly find one door open, and go through +it. He will say to himself that he can never find +another. He has found this, more by luck than cunning, but +now he is done. Yet by and by he will see that there is +<i>one</i> more small unimportant door which he had overlooked, +and he proceeds through this too. If he remains now for a +long while and sees no other, do not let him fret; doors are like +the kingdom of heaven, they come not by observation, least of all +do they come by forcing: let him just go on doing what comes +nearest, but doing it attentively, and a great wide door will one +day spring into existence where there had been no sign of one but +a little time previously. Only let him be always doing +something, and let him cross himself now and again, for belief in +the wondrous efficacy of crosses and crossing is the <!-- page +296--><a name="page296"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +296</span>corner-stone of the creed of the evolutionists. +Then after years—but not probably till after a great +many—doors will open up all around, so many and so wide +that the difficulty will not be to find a door, but rather to +obtain the means of even hurriedly surveying a portion of those +that stand invitingly open.</p> +<p>I know that just as good a case can be made out for the other +side. It may be said as truly that unless a student is +incessantly on the watch for doors he will never see them, and +that unless he is incessantly pressing forward to the kingdom of +heaven he will never find it—so that the kingdom does come +by observation. It is with this as with everything +else—there must be a harmonious fusing of two principles +which are in flat contradiction to one another.</p> +<p>The question of whether it is better to abide quiet and take +advantage of opportunities that come, or to go farther afield in +search of them, is one of the oldest which living beings have had +to deal with. It was on this that the first great schism or +heresy arose in what was heretofore the catholic faith of +protoplasm. The schism still lasts, and has resulted in two +great sects—animals and plants. The opinion that it +is better to go in search of prey is formulated in animals; the +other—that it is better on the whole to stay at home and +profit by what comes—in plants. Some intermediate +forms still record to us the long struggle during which the +schism was not yet complete.</p> +<p>If I may be pardoned for pursuing this digression further, I +would say that it is the plants and not we who are the +heretics. There can be no question about this; we are +perfectly justified, therefore, in devouring them. Ours is +the original and orthodox belief, for protoplasm is much more +animal than vegetable; it is <!-- page 297--><a +name="page297"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 297</span>much more +true to say that plants have descended from animals than animals +from plants. Nevertheless, like many other heretics, plants +have thriven very fairly well. There are a great many of +them, and as regards beauty, if not wit—of a limited kind +indeed, but still wit—it is hard to say that the animal +kingdom has the advantage. The views of plants are sadly +narrow; all dissenters are narrow-minded; but within their own +bounds they know the details of their business sufficiently +well—as well as though they kept the most nicely-balanced +system of accounts to show them their position. They are +eaten, it is true; to eat them is our intolerant and bigoted way +of trying to convert them: eating is only a violent mode of +proselytising or converting; and we do convert them—to good +animal substance, of our own way of thinking. If we have +had no trouble with them, we say they have “agreed” +with us; if we have been unable to make them see things from our +points of view, we say they “disagree” with us, and +avoid being on more than distant terms with them for the +future. If we have helped ourselves to too much, we say we +have got more than we can “manage.” But then, +animals are eaten too. They convert one another, almost as +much as they convert plants. And an animal is no sooner +dead than a plant will convert it back again. It is +obvious, however, that no schism could have been so long +successful, without having a good deal to say for itself.</p> +<p>Neither party has been quite consistent. Who ever is or +can be? Every extreme—every opinion carried to its +logical end—will prove to be an absurdity. Plants +throw out roots and boughs and leaves: this is a kind of +locomotion; and as Dr. Erasmus Darwin long since pointed out, +they do sometimes approach <!-- page 298--><a +name="page298"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 298</span>nearly to +what may be called travelling; a man of consistent character will +never look at a bough, a root, or a tendril without regarding it +as a melancholy and unprincipled compromise. On the other +hand, many animals are sessile, and some singularly successful +genera, as spiders, are in the main liers-in-wait. It may +appear, however, on the whole, like reopening a settled question +to uphold the principle of being busy and attentive over a small +area, rather than going to and fro over a larger one, for a +mammal like man, but I think most readers will be with me in +thinking that, at any rate as regards art and literature, it is +he who does his small immediate work most carefully who will find +doors open most certainly to him, that will conduct him into the +richest chambers.</p> +<p>Many years ago, in New Zealand, I used sometimes to accompany +a dray and team of bullocks who would have to be turned loose at +night that they might feed. There were no hedges or fences +then, so sometimes I could not find my team in the morning, and +had no clue to the direction in which they had gone. At +first I used to try and throw my soul into the bullocks’ +souls, so as to divine if possible what they would be likely to +have done, and would then ride off ten miles in the wrong +direction. People used in those days to lose their bullocks +sometimes for a week or fortnight—when they perhaps were +all the time hiding in a gully hard by the place where they were +turned out. After some time I changed my tactics. On +losing my bullocks I would go to the nearest accommodation house, +and stand drinks. Some one would ere long, as a general +rule, turn up who had seen the bullocks. This case does not +go quite on all fours with what I have been saying above, +inasmuch as I was not very industrious <!-- page 299--><a +name="page299"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 299</span>in my +limited area; but the standing drinks and inquiring was being as +industrious as the circumstances would allow.</p> +<p>To return, universities and academies are an obstacle to the +finding of doors in later life; partly because they push their +young men too fast through doorways that the universities have +provided, and so discourage the habit of being on the look-out +for others; and partly because they do not take pains enough to +make sure that their doors are <i>bonâ fide</i> ones. +If, to change the metaphor, an academy has taken a bad shilling, +it is seldom very scrupulous about trying to pass it on. It +will stick to it that the shilling is a good one as long as the +police will let it. I was very happy at Cambridge; when I +left it I thought I never again could be so happy anywhere else; +I shall ever retain a most kindly recollection both of Cambridge +and of the school where I passed my boyhood; but I feel, as I +think most others must in middle life, that I have spent as much +of my maturer years in unlearning as in learning.</p> +<p>The proper course is for a boy to begin the practical business +of life many years earlier than he now commonly does. He +should begin at the very bottom of a profession; if possible of +one which his family has pursued before him—for the +professions will assuredly one day become hereditary. The +ideal railway director will have begun at fourteen as a railway +porter. He need not be a porter for more than a week or ten +days, any more than he need have been a tadpole more than a short +time; but he should take a turn in practice, though briefly, at +each of the lower branches in the profession. The painter +should do just the same. He should begin by setting his +employer’s palette and <!-- page 300--><a +name="page300"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 300</span>cleaning +his brushes. As for the good side of universities, the +proper preservative of this is to be found in the club.</p> +<p>If, then, we are to have a renaissance of art, there must be a +complete standing aloof from the academic system. That +system has had time enough. Where and who are its +men? Can it point to one painter who can hold his own with +the men of, say, from 1450 to 1550? Academies will bring +out men who can paint hair very like hair, and eyes very like +eyes, but this is not enough. This is grammar and +deportment; we want wit and a kindly nature, and these cannot be +got from academies. As far as mere <i>technique</i> is +concerned, almost every one now can paint as well as is in the +least desirable. The same <i>mutatis mutandis</i> holds +good with writing as with painting. We want less +word-painting and fine phrases, and more observation at +first-hand. Let us have a periodical illustrated by people +who cannot draw, and written by people who cannot write (perhaps, +however, after all, we have some), but who look and think for +themselves, and express themselves just as they please,—and +this we certainly have not. Every contributor should be at +once turned out if he or she is generally believed to have tried +to do something which he or she did not care about trying to do, +and anything should be admitted which is the outcome of a genuine +liking. People are always good company when they are doing +what they really enjoy. A cat is good company when it is +purring, or a dog when it is wagging its tail.</p> +<p>The sketching-clubs up and down the country might form the +nucleus of such a society, provided all professional men were +rigorously excluded. As for the old masters, the better +plan would be never even to <!-- page 301--><a +name="page301"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 301</span>look at one +of them, and to consign Raffaelle, along with Plato, Marcus +Aurelius Antoninus, Dante, Goethe, and two others, neither of +them Englishmen, to limbo, as the Seven Humbugs of +Christendom.</p> +<p>While we are about it, let us leave off talking about +“art for art’s sake.” Who is art, that it +should have a sake? A work of art should be produced for +the pleasure it gives the producer, and the pleasure he thinks it +will give to a few of whom he is fond; but neither money nor +people whom he does not know personally should be thought +of. Of course such a society as I have proposed would not +remain incorrupt long. “Everything that grows, holds +in perfection but a little moment.” The members would +try to imitate professional men in spite of their rules, or, if +they escaped this and after a while got to paint well, they would +become dogmatic, and a rebellion against their authority would be +as necessary ere long as it was against that of their +predecessors: but the balance on the whole would be to the +good.</p> +<p>Professional men should be excluded, if for no other reason +yet for this, that they know too much for the beginner to be +<i>en rapport</i> with them. It is the beginner who can +help the beginner, as it is the child who is the most instructive +companion for another child. The beginner can understand +the beginner, but the cross between him and the proficient +performer is too wide for fertility. It savours of +impatience, and is in flat contradiction to the first principles +of biology. It does a beginner positive harm to look at the +masterpieces of the great executionists, such as Rembrandt or +Turner.</p> +<p>If one is climbing a very high mountain which will <!-- page +302--><a name="page302"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +302</span>tax all one’s strength, nothing fatigues so much +as casting upward glances to the top; nothing encourages so much +as casting downward glances. The top seems never to draw +nearer; the parts that we have passed retreat rapidly. Let +a water-colour student go and see the drawing by Turner in the +basement of our National Gallery, dated 1787. This is the +sort of thing for him, not to copy, but to look at for a minute +or two now and again. It will show him nothing about +painting, but it may serve to teach him not to overtax his +strength, and will prove to him that the greatest masters in +painting, as in everything else, begin by doing work which is no +way superior to that of their neighbours. A collection of +the earliest known works of the greatest men would be much more +useful to the student than any number of their maturer works, for +it would show him that he need not worry himself because his work +does not look clever, or as silly people say, “show +power.”</p> +<p>The secrets of success are affection for the pursuit chosen, a +flat refusal to be hurried or to pass anything as understood +which is not understood, and an obstinacy of character which +shall make the student’s friends find it less trouble to +let him have his own way than to bend him into theirs. Our +schools and academies or universities are covertly but +essentially radical institutions, and abhorrent to the genius of +Conservatism. Their sin is the true radical sin of being in +too great a hurry, and the natural result has followed, they +waste far more time than they save. But it must be +remembered that this proposition like every other wants tempering +with a slight infusion of its direct opposite.</p> +<p>I said in an early part of this book that the best <!-- page +303--><a name="page303"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +303</span>test to know whether or no one likes a picture is to +ask oneself whether one would like to look at it if one was quite +sure one was alone. The best test for a painter as to +whether he likes painting his picture is to ask himself whether +he should like to paint it if he was quite sure that no one +except himself, and the few of whom he was very fond, would ever +see it. If he can answer this question in the affirmative, +he is all right; if he cannot, he is all wrong.</p> +<p>I must reserve other remarks upon this subject for another +occasion.</p> +<h3><!-- page 304--><a name="page304"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 304</span>SANCTUARIES OF OROPA AND +GRAGLIA. (<span class="smcap">from chapters xv. and xvi. of +alps and sanctuaries</span>.)</h3> +<p>The morning after our arrival at Biella, we took the daily +diligence for Oropa, leaving Biella at eight o’clock. +Before we were clear of the town we could see the long line of +the hospice, and the chapels dotted about near it, high up in a +valley at some distance off; presently we were shown another fine +building some eight or nine miles away, which we were told was +the sanctuary of Graglia. About this time the pictures and +statuettes of the Madonna began to change their hue and to become +black—for the sacred image of Oropa being black, all the +Madonnas in her immediate neighbourhood are of the same +complexion. Underneath some of them is written, +“Nigra sum sed sum formosa,” which, as a rule, was +more true as regards the first epithet than the second.</p> +<p>It was not market-day, but streams of people were coming to +the town. Many of them were pilgrims returning from the +sanctuary, but more were bringing the produce of their farms or +the work of their hands for sale. We had to face a steady +stream of chairs, which were coming to town in baskets upon +women’s heads. Each basket contained twelve chairs, +though whether it is correct to say that the basket contained +<!-- page 305--><a name="page305"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +305</span>the chairs—when the chairs were all, so to say, +froth running over the top of the basket—is a point I +cannot settle. Certainly we had never seen anything like so +many chairs before, and felt almost as though we had surprised +nature in the laboratory wherefrom she turns out the chair-supply +of the world. The road continued through a succession of +villages almost running into one another for a long way after +Biella was passed, but everywhere we noticed the same air of busy +thriving industry which we had seen in Biella itself. We +noted also that a preponderance of the people had light hair, +while that of the children was frequently nearly white, as though +the infusion of German blood was here stronger even than +usual. Though so thickly peopled, the country was of great +beauty. Near at hand were the most exquisite pastures close +shaven after their second mowing, gay with autumnal crocuses, and +shaded with stately chestnuts; beyond were rugged mountains, in a +combe on one of which we saw Oropa itself now gradually nearing; +behind, and below, many villages, with vineyards and terraces +cultivated to the highest perfection; farther on, Biella already +distant, and beyond this a “big stare,” as an +American might say, over the plains of Lombardy from Turin to +Milan, with the Apennines from Genoa to Bologna hemming the +horizon. On the road immediately before us, we still faced +the same steady stream of chairs flowing ever Biella-ward.</p> +<p>After a couple of hours the houses became more rare; we got +above the sources of the chair-stream; bits of rough rock began +to jut out from the pasture; here and there the rhododendron +began to shew itself by the roadside; the chestnuts left off +along a line as level as though cut with a knife; stone-roofed +<i>cascine</i> <!-- page 306--><a name="page306"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 306</span>began to abound, with goats and +cattle feeding near them; the booths of the religious +trinket-mongers increased; the blind, halt, and maimed became +more importunate, and the foot-passengers were more entirely +composed of those whose object was, or had been, a visit to the +sanctuary itself. The numbers of these +pilgrims—generally in their Sunday’s best, and often +comprising the greater part of a family—were so great, +though there was no special festa, as to testify to the +popularity of the institution. They generally walked +barefoot, and carried their shoes and stockings; their baggage +consisted of a few spare clothes, a little food, and a pot or pan +or two to cook with. Many of them looked very tired, and +had evidently tramped from long distances—indeed, we saw +costumes belonging to valleys which could not be less than two or +three days distant. They were almost invariably quiet, +respectable, and decently clad, sometimes a little merry, but +never noisy, and none of them tipsy. As we travelled along +the road, we must have fallen in with several hundreds of these +pilgrims coming and going; nor is this likely to be an +extravagant estimate, seeing that the hospice can make up more +than five thousand beds. By eleven we were at the sanctuary +itself.</p> +<p>Fancy a quiet upland valley, the floor of which is about the +same height as the top of Snowdon, shut in by lofty mountains +upon three sides, while on the fourth the eye wanders at will +over the plains below. Fancy finding a level space in such +a valley watered by a beautiful mountain stream, and nearly +filled by a pile of collegiate buildings, not less important than +those, we will say, of Trinity College, Cambridge. True, +Oropa is not in the least like Trinity, except that one of its +courts is large, grassy, has a chapel and a fountain <!-- page +307--><a name="page307"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 307</span>in +it, and rooms all round it; but I do not know how better to give +a rough description of Oropa than by comparing it with one of our +largest English colleges.</p> +<p>The buildings consist of two main courts. The first +comprises a couple of modern wings, connected by the magnificent +façade of what is now the second or inner court. +This façade dates from about the middle of the seventeenth +century; its lowest storey is formed by an open colonnade, and +the whole stands upon a raised terrace from which a noble flight +of steps descends into the outer court.</p> +<p>Ascending the steps and passing under the colonnade, we find +ourselves in the second or inner court, which is a complete +quadrangle, and is, so at least we were told, of rather older +date than the façade. This is the quadrangle which +gives its collegiate character to Oropa. It is surrounded +by cloisters on three sides, on to which the rooms in which the +pilgrims are lodged open—those at least that are on the +ground-floor, but there are three storeys. The chapel, +which was dedicated in the year 1600, juts out into the court +upon the north-east side. On the north-west and south-west +sides are entrances through which one may pass to the open +country. The grass at the time of our visit was for the +most part covered with sheets spread out to dry. They +looked very nice, and, dried on such grass, and in such an air, +they must be delicious to sleep on. There is, indeed, +rather an appearance as though it were a perpetual washing-day at +Oropa, but this is not to be wondered at considering the numbers +of comers and goers; besides, people in Italy do not make so much +fuss about trifles as we do. If they want to wash their +sheets and dry them, they do not send them to Ealing, but lay +them out in the <!-- page 308--><a name="page308"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 308</span>first place that comes handy, and +nobody’s bones are broken.</p> +<p>On the east side of the main block of buildings there is a +grassy slope adorned with chapels that contain figures +illustrating scenes in the history of the Virgin. These +figures are of terra-cotta, for the most part life-size, and +painted up to nature. In some cases, if I remember rightly, +they have hemp or flax for hair, as at Varallo, and throughout +realism is aimed at as far as possible, not only in the figures, +but in the accessories. We have very little of the same +kind in England. In the Tower of London there is an effigy +of Queen Elizabeth going to the city to give thanks for the +defeat of the Spanish Armada. This looks as if it might +have been the work of some one of the Valsesian sculptors. +There are also the figures that strike the quarters of Sir John +Bennett’s city clock in Cheapside. The automatic +movements of these last-named figures would have struck the +originators of the Varallo chapels with envy. They aimed at +realism so closely that they would assuredly have had recourse to +clockwork in some one or two of their chapels; I cannot doubt, +for example, that they would have eagerly welcomed the idea of +making the cock crow to Peter by a cuckoo-clock arrangement, if +it had been presented to them. This opens up the whole +question of realism <i>versus</i> conventionalism in art—a +subject much too large to be treated here.</p> +<p>As I have said, the founders of these Italian chapels aimed at +realism. Each chapel was intended as an illustration, and +the desire was to bring the whole scene more vividly before the +faithful by combining the picture, the statue, and the effect of +a scene upon the stage in a single work of art. The attempt +would <!-- page 309--><a name="page309"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 309</span>be an ambitious one though made once +only in a neighbourhood, but in most of the places in North Italy +where anything of the kind has been done, the people have not +been content with a single illustration; it has been their scheme +to take a mountain as though it had been a book or wall and cover +it with illustrations. In some cases—as at Orta, +whose Sacro Monte is perhaps the most beautiful of all as regards +the site itself—the failure is complete, but in some of the +chapels at Varese and in many of those at Varallo, great works +have been produced which have not yet attracted as much attention +as they deserve. It may be doubted, indeed, whether there +is a more remarkable work of art in North Italy than the +crucifixion chapel at Varallo, where the twenty-five statues, as +well as the frescoes behind them, are (with the exception of the +figure of Christ, which has been removed) by Gaudenzio +Ferrari. It is to be wished that some one of these +chapels—both chapel and sculptures—were reproduced at +South Kensington.</p> +<p>Varallo, which is undoubtedly the most interesting sanctuary +in North Italy, has forty-four of these illustrative chapels; +Varese, fifteen; Orta, eighteen; and Oropa, seventeen. No +one is allowed to enter them, except when repairs are needed; but +when these are going on, as is constantly the case, it is curious +to look through the grating into the somewhat darkened interior, +and to see a living figure or two among the statues; a little +motion on the part of a single figure seems to communicate itself +to the rest and make them all more animated. If the living +figure does not move much, it is easy at first to mistake it for +a terra-cotta one. At Orta, some years since, looking one +evening into a chapel when the light was fading, I was surprised +<!-- page 310--><a name="page310"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +310</span>to see a saint whom I had not seen before; he had no +glory except what shone from a very red nose; he was smoking a +short pipe, and was painting the Virgin Mary’s face. +The touch was a finishing one, put on with deliberation, slowly, +so that it was two or three seconds before I discovered that the +interloper was no saint.</p> +<p>The figures in the chapels at Oropa are not as good as the +best of those at Varallo, but some of them are very nice +notwithstanding. We liked the seventh chapel the +best—the one which illustrates the sojourn of the Virgin +Mary in the Temple. It contains forty-four figures, and +represents the Virgin on the point of completing her education as +head girl at a high-toned academy for young gentlewomen. +All the young ladies are at work making mitres for the bishop, or +working slippers in Berlin wool for the new curate, but the +Virgin sits on a dais above the others on the same platform with +the venerable lady-principal, who is having passages read out to +her from some standard Hebrew writer. The statues are the +work of a local sculptor, named Aureggio, who lived at the end of +the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth century.</p> +<p>The highest chapel must be a couple of hundred feet above the +main buildings, and from near it there is an excellent +bird’s-eye view of the sanctuary and the small plain +behind; descending on to this last, we entered the quadrangle +from the north-west side, and visited the chapel in which the +sacred image of the Madonna is contained. We did not see +the image itself, which is only exposed to public view on great +occasions. It is believed to have been carved by St. Luke +the Evangelist. It is said that at one time there was +actually an inscription on the image in Greek characters, <!-- +page 311--><a name="page311"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +311</span>of which the translation is, “Eusebius. A +token of respect and affection from his sincere friend, +Luke;” but this being written in chalk or pencil only, has +been worn off, and is known by tradition only. I must ask +the reader to content himself with the following account of it +which I take from Marocco’s work upon Oropa:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“That this statue of the Virgin is indeed by +St. Luke is attested by St. Eusebius, a man of eminent piety, and +no less enlightened than truthful, and the store which he set by +it is proved by his shrinking from no discomforts in his carriage +of it from a distant country, and by his anxiety to put it in a +place of great security. His desire, indeed, was to keep it +in the spot which was most near and dear to him, so that he might +extract from it the higher incitement to devotion, and more +sensible comfort in the midst of his austerities and apostolic +labours.</p> +<p>“This truth is further confirmed by the quality of the +wood from which the statue is carved, which is commonly believed +to be cedar; by the Eastern character of the work; by the +resemblance both of the lineament and the colour to those of +other statues by St. Luke; by the tradition of the neighbourhood, +which extends in an unbroken and well-assured line to the time of +St. Eusebius himself; by the miracles that have been worked here +by its presence, and elsewhere by its invocation, or even by +indirect contact with it; by the miracles, lastly, which are +inherent in the image itself, <a name="citation311"></a><a +href="#footnote311" class="citation">[311]</a> and which endure +to this day, such as is its immunity from all worm and from the +decay which would <!-- page 312--><a name="page312"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 312</span>naturally have occurred in it +through time and damp—more especially in the feet, through +the rubbing of religious objects against them.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>“The authenticity of this image is so certainly and +clearly established, that all supposition to the contrary becomes +inexplicable and absurd. Such, for example, is a hypothesis +that it should not be attributed to the Evangelist, but to +another Luke, also called ‘Saint,’ and a Florentine +by birth. This painter lived in the eleventh +century—that is to say, about seven centuries after the +image of Oropa had been known and venerated! This is indeed +an anachronism.</p> +<p>“Other difficulties drawn either from the ancient +discipline of the Church or from St. Luke the Evangelist’s +profession, which was that of a physician, vanish at once when it +is borne in mind—firstly, that the cult of holy images, and +especially of that of the most blessed Virgin, is of extreme +antiquity in the Church, and of apostolic origin, as is proved by +ecclesiastical writers and monuments found in the catacombs which +date, as far back as the first century (see among other +authorities, Nicolas, La Vergine vivente nella Chiesa, lib. iii. +cap. iii. § 2); secondly, that as the medical profession +does not exclude that of artists, St. Luke may have been both +artist and physician; that he did actually handle both the brush +and the scalpel is established by respectable and very old +traditions, to say nothing of other arguments which can be found +in impartial and learned writers upon such matters.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I will only give one more extract. It runs:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“In 1855 a celebrated Roman +portrait-painter, after having carefully inspected the image of +the Virgin <!-- page 313--><a name="page313"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 313</span>Mary at Oropa, declared it to be +certainly a work of the first century of our era.” <a +name="citation313"></a><a href="#footnote313" +class="citation">[313]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>I once saw a common cheap china copy of this Madonna announced +as to be given away with two pounds of tea, in a shop near Hatton +Garden.</p> +<p>The church in which the sacred image is kept is interesting +from the pilgrims who at all times frequent it, and from the +collection of votive pictures which adorn its walls. Except +the votive pictures and the pilgrims the church contains little +of interest, and I will pass on to the constitution and objects +of the establishment.</p> +<p>The objects are—1. Gratuitous lodging to all comers for +a space of from three to nine days as the rector may think +fit. 2. A school. 3. Help to the sick and poor. +It is governed by a president and six members, who form a +committee. Four members are chosen by the communal council, +and two by the cathedral chapter of Biella. At the hospice +itself there reside a director, with his assistant, a surveyor to +keep the fabric in repair, a rector or dean with six priests, +called <i>cappellani</i>, and a medical man. “The +government of the laundry,” so runs the statute on this +head, “and analogous domestic services are entrusted to a +competent number of ladies of sound constitution and good +conduct, who live together in the hospice under the direction of +an inspectress, and are called daughters of Oropa.”</p> +<p>The bye-laws of the establishment are conceived in a kindly, +genial spirit, which in great measure accounts for its +unmistakable popularity. We understood that the poorer +visitors, as a general rule, avail themselves of the gratuitous +lodging, without making any present when they leave, but in spite +of this it is quite clear <!-- page 314--><a +name="page314"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 314</span>that they +are wanted to come, and come they accordingly do. It is +sometimes difficult to lay one’s hands upon the exact +passages which convey an impression, but as we read the bye-laws +which are posted up in the cloisters, we found ourselves +continually smiling at the manner in which almost anything that +looked like a prohibition could be removed with the consent of +the director. There is no rule whatever about visitors +attending the church; all that is required of them is that they +do not interfere with those who do. They must not play +games of chance, or noisy games; they must not make much noise of +any sort after ten o’clock at night (which corresponds +about with midnight in England). They should not draw upon +the walls of their rooms, nor cut the furniture. They +should also keep their rooms clean, and not cook in those that +are more expensively furnished. This is about all that they +must not do, except fee the servants, which is most especially +and particularly forbidden. If any one infringes these +rules, he is to be admonished, and in case of grave infraction or +continued misdemeanor he may be expelled and not readmitted.</p> +<p>Visitors who are lodged in the better-furnished apartments can +be waited upon if they apply at the office; the charge is +twopence for cleaning a room, making the bed, bringing water, +&c. If there is more than one bed in a room, a penny +must be paid for every bed over the first. Boots can be +cleaned for a penny, shoes for a halfpenny. For carrying +wood, &c., either a halfpenny or a penny will be exacted +according to the time taken. Payment for these services +must not be made to the servant, but at the office.</p> +<p>The gates close at ten o’clock at night, and open at +sunrise, “but if any visitor wishes to make Alpine <!-- +page 315--><a name="page315"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +315</span>excursions, or has any other sufficient reason, he +should let the director know.” Families occupying +many rooms must—when the hospice is very crowded, and when +they have had due notice—manage to pack themselves into a +smaller compass. No one can have rooms kept for him. +It is to be strictly “first come, first +served.” No one must sublet his room. Visitors +must not go away without giving up the key of their room. +Candles and wood may be bought at a fixed price.</p> +<p>Any one wishing to give anything to the support of the hospice +must do so only to the director, the official who appoints the +apartments, the dean or the cappellani, or to the inspectress of +the daughters of Oropa, but they must have a receipt for even the +smallest sum; alms-boxes, however, are placed here and there into +which the smaller offerings may be dropped (we imagine this means +anything under a franc).</p> +<p>The poor will be fed as well as housed for three days +gratuitously—provided their health does not require a +longer stay; but they must not beg on the premises of the +hospice; professional beggars will be at once handed over to the +mendicity society in Biella, or even perhaps to prison. The +poor for whom a hydropathic course is recommended, can have it +under the regulations made by the committee—that is to say, +if there is a vacant place.</p> +<p>There are <i>trattorie</i> and cafés at the hospice, +where refreshments may be obtained both good and cheap. +Meat is to be sold there at the prices current in Biella; bread +at two centimes the chilogramma more, to pay for the cost of +carriage.</p> +<p>Such are the bye-laws of this remarkable institution.</p> +<p>Few except the very rich are so under-worked that <!-- page +316--><a name="page316"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +316</span>two or three days of change and rest are not at times a +boon to them, while the mere knowledge that there is a place +where repose can be had cheaply and pleasantly is itself a source +of strength. Here, so long as the visitor wishes to be +merely housed, no questions are asked; no one is refused +admittance, except for some obviously sufficient reason; it is +like getting a reading ticket for the British Museum, there is +practically but one test—that is to say, desire on the part +of the visitor—the coming proves the desire, and this +suffices. A family, we will say, has just gathered its +first harvest; the heat on the plains is intense, and the malaria +from the rice-grounds little less than pestilential; what, then, +can be nicer than to lock up the house and go for three days to +the bracing mountain air of Oropa? So at daybreak off they +all start trudging, it may be, their thirty or forty miles, and +reaching Oropa by nightfall. If there is a weakly one among +them, some arrangement is sure to be practicable whereby he or +she can be helped to follow more leisurely, and can remain longer +at the hospice. Once arrived, they generally, it is true, +go the round of the chapels, and make some slight show of +pilgrimage, but the main part of their time is spent in doing +absolutely nothing. It is sufficient amusement to them to +sit on the steps, or lie about under the shadow of the trees, and +neither say anything nor do anything, but simply breathe, and +look at the sky and at each other. We saw scores of such +people just resting instinctively in a kind of blissful waking +dream. Others saunter along the walks which have been cut +in the woods that surround the hospice, or if they have been pent +up in a town and have a fancy for climbing, there are mountain +excursions, for the making of which the hospice <!-- page +317--><a name="page317"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +317</span>affords excellent headquarters, and which are looked +upon with every favour by the authorities.</p> +<p>It must be remembered also that the accommodation provided at +Oropa is much better than what the people are, for the most part, +accustomed to in their own homes, and the beds are softer, more +often beaten up, and cleaner than those they have left behind +them. Besides, they have sheets—and beautifully clean +sheets. Those who know the sort of place in which an +Italian peasant is commonly content to sleep, will understand how +much he must enjoy a really clean and comfortable bed, especially +when he has not got to pay for it. Sleep, in the +circumstances of comfort which most readers will be accustomed +to, is a more expensive thing than is commonly supposed. If +we sleep eight hours in a London hotel we shall have to pay from +4d. to 6d. an hour, or from 1d. to 1½d. for every fifteen +minutes we lie in bed; nor is it reasonable to believe that the +charge is excessive when we consider the vast amount of +competition which exists. There is many a man the expenses +of whose daily meat, drink, and clothing are less than what an +accountant would show us we, many of us, lay out nightly upon our +sleep. The cost of really comfortable sleep-necessaries +cannot, of course, be nearly so great at Oropa as in a London +hotel, but they are enough to put them beyond the reach of the +peasant under ordinary circumstances, and he relishes them all +the more when he can get them.</p> +<p>But why, it may be asked, should the peasant have these things +if he cannot afford to pay for them; and why should he not pay +for them if he can afford to do so? If such places as Oropa +were common, would not lazy vagabonds spend their lives in going +the rounds of them, &c., &c.? Doubtless if there +were many Oropas, <!-- page 318--><a name="page318"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 318</span>they would do more harm than good, +but there are some things which answer perfectly well as rarities +or on a small scale, out of which all the virtue would depart if +they were common or on a larger one; and certainly the impression +left upon our minds by Oropa was that its effects were +excellent.</p> +<p>Granted the sound rule to be that a man should pay for what he +has, or go without it; in practice, however, it is found +impossible to carry this rule out strictly. Why does the +nation give A. B., for instance, and all comers a large, +comfortable, well-ventilated, warm room to sit in, with chair, +table, reading-desk, &c., all more commodious than what he +may have at home, without making him pay a sixpence for it +directly from year’s end to year’s end? The +three or nine days’ visit to Oropa is a trifle in +comparison with what we can all of us obtain in London if we care +about it enough to take a very small amount of trouble. +True, one cannot sleep in the reading-room of the British +Museum—not all night, at least—but by day one can +make a home of it for years together except during cleaning +times, and then it is hard if one cannot get into the National +Gallery or South Kensington, and be warm, quiet, and entertained +without paying for it.</p> +<p>It will be said that it is for the national interest that +people should have access to treasuries of art or knowledge, and +therefore it is worth the nation’s while to pay for placing +the means of doing so at their disposal; granted, but is not a +good bed one of the great ends of knowledge, whereto it must +work, if it is to be accounted knowledge at all? and it is not +worth a nation’s while that her children should now and +again have practical experience of a higher state of things than +the one <!-- page 319--><a name="page319"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 319</span>they are accustomed to, and a few +days’ rest and change of scene and air, even though she may +from time to time have to pay something in order to enable them +to do so? There can be few books which do an +averagely-educated Englishman so much good, as the glimpse of +comfort which he gets by sleeping in a good bed in a +well-appointed room does to an Italian peasant; such a glimpse +gives him an idea of higher potentialities in connection with +himself, and nerves him to exertions which he would not otherwise +make. On the whole, therefore, we concluded that if the +British Museum reading-room was in good economy, Oropa was so +also; at any rate, it seemed to be making a large number of very +nice people quietly happy—and it is hard to say more than +this in favour of any place or institution.</p> +<p>The idea of any sudden change is as repulsive to us as it will +be to the greater number of my readers; but if asked whether we +thought our English universities would do most good in their +present condition as places of so-called education, or if they +were turned into Oropas, and all the educational part of the +story totally suppressed, we inclined to think they would be more +popular and more useful in this latter capacity. We thought +also that Oxford and Cambridge were just the places, and +contained all the appliances and endowments almost ready made for +constituting two splendid and truly imperial cities of +recreation—universities in deed as well as in name. +Nevertheless we should not venture to propose any further actual +reform during the present generation than to carry the principle +which is already admitted as regards the M.A. a degree a trifle +further, and to make the B.A. degree a mere matter of lapse of +time and fees—leaving the little go, and whatever +corresponds to it at Oxford, <!-- page 320--><a +name="page320"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 320</span>as the +final examination. This would be enough for the +present.</p> +<p>There is another sanctuary about three hours’ walk over +the mountain behind Oropa, at Andorno, and dedicated to St. +John. We were prevented by the weather from visiting it, +but understand that its objects are much the same as those of the +institution I have just described. I will now proceed to +the third sanctuary for which the neighbourhood of Biella is +renowned.</p> +<p>* * * * *</p> +<p>At Graglia I was shown all over the rooms in which strangers +are lodged, and found them not only comfortable but +luxurious—decidedly more so than those of Oropa; there was +the same cleanliness everywhere which I had noticed in the +restaurant. As one stands at the windows or on the +balconies and looks down to the tops of the chestnuts, and over +these to the plains, one feels almost as if one could fly out of +the window like a bird; for the slope of the hills is so rapid +that one has a sense of being already suspended in mid-air.</p> +<p>I thought I observed a desire to attract English visitors in +the pictures which I saw in the bedrooms. Thus there was +“A view of the Black-lead Mine in Cumberland,” a +coloured English print of the end of the last century or the +beginning of this, after, I think, Loutherbourg, and in several +rooms there were English engravings after Martin. The +English will not, I think, regret if they yield to these +attractions. They will find the air cool, shady walks, good +food, and reasonable prices. Their rooms will not be +charged for, but they will do well to give the same as they would +have paid at a hotel. I saw in one room one of those +flippant, frivolous, Lorenzo de’ Medici matchboxes <!-- +page 321--><a name="page321"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +321</span>on which there was a gaudily-coloured nymph in +high-heeled boots and tights, smoking a cigarette. Feeling +that I was in a sanctuary, I was a little surprised that such a +matchbox should have been tolerated. I suppose it had been +left behind by some guest. I should myself select a +matchbox with the Nativity or the Flight into Egypt upon it, if I +were going to stay a week or so at Graglia. I do not think +I can have looked surprised or scandalised, but the worthy +official who was with me could just see that there was something +on my mind. “Do you want a match?” said he, +immediately reaching me the box. I helped myself, and the +matter dropped.</p> +<p>There were many fewer people at Graglia than at Oropa, and +they were richer. I did not see any poor about, but I may +have been there during a slack time. An impression was left +upon me, though I cannot say whether it was well or ill founded, +as though there were a tacit understanding between the +establishments at Oropa and Graglia that the one was to adapt +itself to the poorer, and the other to the richer classes of +society; and this not from any sordid motive, but from a +recognition of the fact that any great amount of intermixture +between the poor and the rich is not found satisfactory to either +one or the other. Any wide difference in fortune does +practically amount to a specific difference, which renders the +members of either species more or less suspicious of those of the +other, and seldom fertile <i>inter se</i>. The well-to-do +working-man can help his poorer friends better than we can. +If an educated man has money to spare, he will apply it better in +helping poor educated people than those who are more strictly +called the poor. As long as the world is progressing, wide +class distinctions are inevitable; <!-- page 322--><a +name="page322"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 322</span>their +discontinuance will be a sign that equilibrium has been +reached. Then human civilisation will become as stationary +as that of ants and bees. Some may say it will be very sad +when this is so; others, that it will be a good thing; in truth, +it is good either way, for progress and equilibrium have each of +them advantages and disadvantages which make it impossible to +assign superiority to either; but in both cases the good greatly +overbalances the evil; for in both the great majority will be +fairly well contented, and would hate to live under any other +system.</p> +<p>Equilibrium, if it is ever reached, will be attained very +slowly, and the importance of any change in a system depends +entirely upon the rate at which it is made. No amount of +change shocks—or, in other words, is important—if it +is made sufficiently slowly, while hardly any change is too small +to shock if it is made suddenly. We may go down a ladder of +ten thousand feet in height if we do so step by step, while a +sudden fall of six or seven feet may kill us. The +importance, therefore, does not lie in the change, but in the +abruptness of its introduction. Nothing is absolutely +important or absolutely unimportant; absolutely good, or +absolutely bad.</p> +<p>This is not what we like to contemplate. The instinct of +those whose religion and culture are on the surface only is to +conceive that they have found, or can find, an absolute and +eternal standard, about which they can be as earnest as they +choose. They would have even the pains of hell eternal if +they could. If there had been any means discoverable by +which they could torment themselves beyond endurance, we may be +sure they would long since have found it out; but fortunately +there is a stronger power which bars them <!-- page 323--><a +name="page323"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 323</span>inexorably +from their desire, and which has ensured that intolerable pain +shall last only for a very little while. For either the +circumstances or the sufferer will change after no long +time. If the circumstances are intolerable, the sufferer +dies: if they are not intolerable, he becomes accustomed to them, +and will cease to feel them grievously. No matter what the +burden, there always has been, and always must be, a way for us +also to escape.</p> +<h2><!-- page 324--><a name="page324"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 324</span>A PSALM OF MONTREAL.</h2> +<p>[The City of Montreal is one of the most rising and, in many +respects, most agreeable on the American continent, but its +inhabitants are as yet too busy with commerce to care greatly +about the masterpieces of old Greek Art. A cast of one of +these masterpieces—the finest of the several statues of +Discoboli, or Quoit-throwers—was found by the present +writer in the Montreal Museum of Natural History; it was, +however, banished from public view, to a room where were all +manner of skins, plants, snakes, insects, &c., and in the +middle of these, an old man, stuffing an owl. The +dialogue—perhaps true, perhaps imaginary, perhaps a little +of one and a little of the other—between the writer and +this old man gave rise to the lines that follow.]</p> +<p>Stowed away in a Montreal lumber-room,<br /> +The Discobolus standeth, and turneth his face to the wall;<br /> +Dusty, cobweb-covered, maimed, and set at naught,<br /> +Beauty crieth in an attic, and no man regardeth.<br /> + O God! O Montreal!</p> +<p>Beautiful by night and day, beautiful in summer and winter,<br +/> +Whole or maimed, always and alike beautiful,—<br /> +He preacheth gospel of grace to the skins of owls,<br /> +And to one who seasoneth the skins of Canadian owls.<br /> + O God! O Montreal!</p> +<p>When I saw him, I was wroth, and I said, “O +Discobolus!<br /> +Beautiful Discobolus, a Prince both among gods and men,<br /> +What doest thou here, how camest thou here, Discobolus,<br /> +Preaching gospel in vain to the skins of owls?”<br /> + O God! O Montreal!</p> +<p><!-- page 325--><a name="page325"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +325</span>And I turned to the man of skins, and said unto him, +“Oh! thou man of skins,<br /> +Wherefore hast thou done thus, to shame the beauty of the +Discobolus?”<br /> +But the Lord had hardened the heart of the man of skins,<br /> +And he answered, “My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. +Spurgeon.”<br /> + O God! O Montreal!</p> +<p>“The Discobolus is put here because he is +vulgar,—<br /> +He hath neither vest nor pants with which to cover his limbs;<br +/> +I, sir, am a person of most respectable connections,—<br /> +My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon.”<br /> + O God! O Montreal!</p> +<p>Then I said, “O brother-in law to Mr. Spurgeon’s +haberdasher!<br /> +Who seasonest also the skins of Canadian owls,<br /> +Thou callest ‘trousers’ ‘pants,’ whereas +I call them ‘trousers,’<br /> +Therefore thou art in hell-fire, and may the Lord pity thee!<br +/> + O God! O Montreal!</p> +<p>“Preferrest thou the gospel of Montreal to the gospel of +Hellas,<br /> +The gospel of thy connection with Mr. Spurgeon’s +haberdashery to the gospel of the Discobolus?”<br /> +Yet none the less blasphemed he beauty, saying, “The +Discobolus hath no gospel,—<br /> +But my brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon.”<br +/> + O God! O Montreal!</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">printed by +ballantyne, hanson and co.<br /> +edinburgh and london</span>.</p> +<h2><!-- page 327--><a name="page327"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 327</span>Works by the same Author.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo, +Cloth, 6s.<br /> +EREWHON; or, OVER THE RANGE. Op. 1.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">A Work of +Satire and Imagination</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Second Edition. Demy 8vo, +Cloth, 7s. 6d.<br /> +THE FAIR HAVEN. Op. 2.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">A work in Defence of the Miraculous +Element in our Lord’s Ministry on earth, both as against +Rationalistic Impugners and certain Orthodox Defenders. +Written under the pseudonym of <span class="smcap">john pickard +owen</span>, with a Memoir by his supposed brother, <span +class="smcap">William Bickersteth Owen</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Second Edition. Crown 8vo, +Cloth, 7s. 6d.<br /> +LIFE AND HABIT. Op. 3.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">An Essay after +a Completer View of Evolution</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Second Edition, with Appendix and +Index. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 10s. 6d.<br /> +EVOLUTION, OLD AND NEW. Op. 4.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">A Comparison of the theories of +Buffon, Dr. Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck, with that of the late +Mr. Charles Darwin, with copious extracts from the works of the +three first-named writers.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Crown 8vo, Cloth, 7s. 6d.<br /> +UNCONSCIOUS MEMORY. Op. 5.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">A Comparison between the theory of +Dr. Ewald Hering, Professor of Physiology at the University of +Prague, and the “Philosophy of the Unconscious” of +Dr. Edward Von Hartmann, with translations from both these +authors, and preliminary chapters bearing on “Life and +Habit,” “Evolution, Old and New,” and Mr. +Charles Darwin’s edition of Dr. Krause’s +“Erasmus Darwin.”</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Pott Quarto, Cloth, 21s.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">ALPS AND SANCTUARIES OF PIEDMONT +AND THE CANTON TICINO. Op. 6.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Profusely Illustrated by Charles +Gogin, H. F. Jones, and the Author.</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnoteiii"></a><a href="#citationiii" +class="footnote">[iii]</a> See page 234 of this book.</p> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> The first edition of Erewhon was +published in the spring of 1872.</p> +<p><a name="footnote47"></a><a href="#citation47" +class="footnote">[47]</a> The myth above alluded to exists +in Erewhon with changed names and considerable +modifications. I have taken the liberty of referring to the +story as familiar to ourselves.</p> +<p><a name="footnote48"></a><a href="#citation48" +class="footnote">[48]</a> The first edition of the Fair +Haven was published April 1873.</p> +<p><a name="footnote68"></a><a href="#citation68" +class="footnote">[68]</a> The first edition of Life and +Habit was published in December, 1877.</p> +<p><a name="footnote96"></a><a href="#citation96" +class="footnote">[96]</a> See page 228 of this book, +“Remarks on Mr. Romanes’ ‘Mental Evolution in +Animals.’”</p> +<p><a name="footnote119"></a><a href="#citation119" +class="footnote">[119]</a> Kegan Paul, 1875.</p> +<p><a name="footnote125"></a><a href="#citation125" +class="footnote">[125]</a> It is now (January 1884) more +than six years since Life and Habit was published, but I have +come across nothing which makes me wish to alter it to any +material extent.</p> +<p><a name="footnote127"></a><a href="#citation127" +class="footnote">[127]</a> It must be remembered that the +late Mr. C. Darwin expressly denied that instinct and inherited +habit are generally to be connected.—See Mr. Darwin’s +“Origin of Species,” end of chapter viii., where he +expresses his surprise that no one has hitherto adduced the +instincts of neuter insects “against the well-known +doctrine of inherited habit as advanced by Lamarck.”</p> +<p>Mr. Romanes, in his “Mental Evolution in Animals” +(November, 1883), refers to this passage of Mr. Darwin’s, +and endorses it with approbation (p. 297).</p> +<p><a name="footnote131"></a><a href="#citation131" +class="footnote">[131]</a> Evolution, Old and New, was +published in May, 1879.</p> +<p><a name="footnote134a"></a><a href="#citation134a" +class="footnote">[134a]</a> Quatrefages, +“Metamorphoses de l’Homme et des Animaux,” +1862, p. 42; G. H. Lewes, “Physical Basis of Mind,” +1877, p. 83.</p> +<p><a name="footnote134b"></a><a href="#citation134b" +class="footnote">[134b]</a> I have been unable, through +want of space, to give this chapter here.</p> +<p><a name="footnote141"></a><a href="#citation141" +class="footnote">[141]</a> Page 210, first edition.</p> +<p><a name="footnote144"></a><a href="#citation144" +class="footnote">[144]</a> 1878.</p> +<p><a name="footnote148"></a><a href="#citation148" +class="footnote">[148]</a> “Nat. Theol.” ch. +xxiii.</p> +<p><a name="footnote153a"></a><a href="#citation153a" +class="footnote">[153a]</a> 1878.</p> +<p><a name="footnote153b"></a><a href="#citation153b" +class="footnote">[153b]</a> “Oiseaux,” vol. i. +p. 5.</p> +<p><a name="footnote162"></a><a href="#citation162" +class="footnote">[162]</a> “Discours de +Réception à l’Académie +Française.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote163"></a><a href="#citation163" +class="footnote">[163]</a> I Cor. xiii. 8, 13.</p> +<p><a name="footnote164a"></a><a href="#citation164a" +class="footnote">[164a]</a> Tom. i. p. 24, 1749.</p> +<p><a name="footnote164b"></a><a href="#citation164b" +class="footnote">[164b]</a> Tom. i. p. 40, 1749.</p> +<p><a name="footnote165"></a><a href="#citation165" +class="footnote">[165]</a> Vol. i. p. 34, 1749.</p> +<p><a name="footnote166a"></a><a href="#citation166a" +class="footnote">[166a]</a> Tom. i. p. 36.</p> +<p><a name="footnote166b"></a><a href="#citation166b" +class="footnote">[166b]</a> See p. 173.</p> +<p><a name="footnote166c"></a><a href="#citation166c" +class="footnote">[166c]</a> Tom. i. p. 33.</p> +<p><a name="footnote168"></a><a href="#citation168" +class="footnote">[168]</a> The Naturalist’s Library, +vol. ii. p. 23. Edinburgh, 1843.</p> +<p><a name="footnote174"></a><a href="#citation174" +class="footnote">[174]</a> Tom. iv. p. 381, 1753.</p> +<p><a name="footnote176"></a><a href="#citation176" +class="footnote">[176]</a> Tom. iv. p. 383, 1753 (this was +the first volume on the lower animals).</p> +<p><a name="footnote177a"></a><a href="#citation177a" +class="footnote">[177a]</a> Tom xiii. p. 1765.</p> +<p><a name="footnote177b"></a><a href="#citation177b" +class="footnote">[177b]</a> Sup. tom. v. p. 27, 1778.</p> +<p><a name="footnote180"></a><a href="#citation180" +class="footnote">[180]</a> Tom. i. p. 28, 1749.</p> +<p><a name="footnote181a"></a><a href="#citation181a" +class="footnote">[181a]</a> Unconscious Memory was +published December, 1880.</p> +<p><a name="footnote181b"></a><a href="#citation181b" +class="footnote">[181b]</a> See Unconscious Memory, chap. +vi.</p> +<p><a name="footnote181c"></a><a href="#citation181c" +class="footnote">[181c]</a> The Spirit of Nature, p. +39. J. A. Churchill & Co. 1880.</p> +<p><a name="footnote184"></a><a href="#citation184" +class="footnote">[184]</a> I have put these words into the +mouth of my supposed objector, and shall put others like them, +because they are characteristic; but nothing can become so well +known as to escape being an inference.</p> +<p><a name="footnote189"></a><a href="#citation189" +class="footnote">[189]</a> Erewhon, chap, xxiii.</p> +<p><a name="footnote198a"></a><a href="#citation198a" +class="footnote">[198a]</a> It must be remembered that this +passage is put as if in the mouth of an objector.</p> +<p><a name="footnote198b"></a><a href="#citation198b" +class="footnote">[198b]</a> Mr. Herbert Spencer denies that +there can be memory without a “tolerably deliberate +succession of psychical states.” <a +name="citation198c"></a><a href="#footnote198c" +class="citation">[198c]</a> So that practically he denies +that there can be any such thing as “unconscious +memory.” Nevertheless a few pages later on he says +that “conscious memory passes into unconscious or organic +memory.” <a name="citation198d"></a><a href="#footnote198d" +class="citation">[198d]</a> It is plain, therefore, that he +could after all find no expression better suited for his +purpose.</p> +<p>Mr. Romanes is, I think, right in setting aside Mr. +Spencer’s limitation of memory to conscious memory. +He writes, “Because I have so often seen the sun shine that +my memory of it as shining has become automatic, I see no reason +why my memory of this fact, simply on account of its perfection, +should be called no memory.” <a name="citation198e"></a><a +href="#footnote198e" class="citation">[198e]</a></p> +<p><a name="footnote198c"></a><a href="#citation198c" +class="footnote">[198c]</a> Principles of Psychology, I., +447.</p> +<p><a name="footnote198d"></a><a href="#citation198d" +class="footnote">[198d]</a> Ibid, p. 452.</p> +<p><a name="footnote198e"></a><a href="#citation198e" +class="footnote">[198e]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +130</p> +<p><a name="footnote217"></a><a href="#citation217" +class="footnote">[217]</a> Nineteenth Century, Nov. 1878, +p. 826.</p> +<p><a name="footnote218"></a><a href="#citation218" +class="footnote">[218]</a> Encyclopedia Britannica, +Art. Biology, 9th ed., Vol. 3, p. 689.</p> +<p><a name="footnote220a"></a><a href="#citation220a" +class="footnote">[220a]</a> Professor Huxley, Encycl. +Brit., 9th ed., Art. Evolution, p. 750.</p> +<p><a name="footnote220b"></a><a href="#citation220b" +class="footnote">[220b]</a> “Hume,” by +Professor Huxley, p. 45.</p> +<p><a name="footnote220c"></a><a href="#citation220c" +class="footnote">[220c]</a> “The Philosophy of +Crayfishes,” by the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of +Carlisle. Nineteenth Century for October 1880, p. 636.</p> +<p><a name="footnote221"></a><a href="#citation221" +class="footnote">[221]</a> Les Amours des Plantes, p. +360. Paris, 1800.</p> +<p><a name="footnote222a"></a><a href="#citation222a" +class="footnote">[222a]</a> Philosophie Zoologique, tom. i. +p. 231. Ed. M. Martin. Paris, 1873.</p> +<p><a name="footnote222b"></a><a href="#citation222b" +class="footnote">[222b]</a> Those who read the three +following chapters will see that these words, written in 1880, +have come out near the truth in 1884.</p> +<p><a name="footnote223a"></a><a href="#citation223a" +class="footnote">[223a]</a> Journal of the Proceedings of +the Linnean Society. Williams & Norgate. 1858, p. +61.</p> +<p><a name="footnote223b"></a><a href="#citation223b" +class="footnote">[223b]</a> Contributions to the Theory of +Natural Selection, 2d ed., 1871, p. 41.</p> +<p><a name="footnote223c"></a><a href="#citation223c" +class="footnote">[223c]</a> Origin of Species, p. I, ed. +1872.</p> +<p><a name="footnote223d"></a><a href="#citation223d" +class="footnote">[223d]</a> Origin of Species, 6th ed., p. +206. I ought in fairness to Mr Darwin to say that he does +not hold the error to be quite as serious as he once did. +It is now “a serious error” only; in 1859 it was +“most serious error.”—<i>Origin of Species</i>, +1st ed., p. 209.</p> +<p><a name="footnote224"></a><a href="#citation224" +class="footnote">[224]</a> Origin of Species, 1st ed., p. +242; 6th ed., p. 233.</p> +<p><a name="footnote225a"></a><a href="#citation225a" +class="footnote">[225a]</a> I never could find what these +particular points were.</p> +<p><a name="footnote225b"></a><a href="#citation225b" +class="footnote">[225b]</a> Isidore Geoffrey, Hist. Nat. +Gen., tom. ii. p. 407, 1859.</p> +<p><a name="footnote225c"></a><a href="#citation225c" +class="footnote">[225c]</a> M. Martin’s edition of +the Philosophie Zoologique (Paris, 1873), Introduction, p. +vi.</p> +<p><a name="footnote225d"></a><a href="#citation225d" +class="footnote">[225d]</a> Encyclopædia Britannica, +9th ed., p. 750.</p> +<p><a name="footnote228a"></a><a href="#citation228a" +class="footnote">[228a]</a> Kegan Paul & Co., 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote228b"></a><a href="#citation228b" +class="footnote">[228b]</a> Principles of Psychology, Vol. +I. p. 445.</p> +<p><a name="footnote228c"></a><a href="#citation228c" +class="footnote">[228c]</a> Ibid. I. 456.</p> +<p><a name="footnote228d"></a><a href="#citation228d" +class="footnote">[228d]</a> Problems of Life and Mind, +first series, Vol. I., 3rd ed. 1874, p. 141, and Problem I. +21.</p> +<p><a name="footnote228e"></a><a href="#citation228e" +class="footnote">[228e]</a> p. 33.</p> +<p><a name="footnote228f"></a><a href="#citation228f" +class="footnote">[228f]</a> p. 77.</p> +<p><a name="footnote228g"></a><a href="#citation228g" +class="footnote">[228g]</a> p. 115.</p> +<p><a name="footnote229"></a><a href="#citation229" +class="footnote">[229]</a> Translation of Professor +Hering’s address on “Memory as an Organised Function +of Matter,” Unconscious Memory, p. 116.</p> +<p><a name="footnote230"></a><a href="#citation230" +class="footnote">[230]</a> See Zoonomia, Vol. I. p. +484.</p> +<p><a name="footnote231a"></a><a href="#citation231a" +class="footnote">[231a]</a> Problems of Life and Mind, I. +pp. 239, 240: 1874.</p> +<p><a name="footnote231b"></a><a href="#citation231b" +class="footnote">[231b]</a> Kegan Paul. November, +1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote232a"></a><a href="#citation232a" +class="footnote">[232a]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +113.</p> +<p><a name="footnote232b"></a><a href="#citation232b" +class="footnote">[232b]</a> Ibid. p. 115.</p> +<p><a name="footnote232c"></a><a href="#citation232c" +class="footnote">[232c]</a> Ibid. p. 116. Kegan +Paul. Nov. 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote233a"></a><a href="#citation233a" +class="footnote">[233a]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +131. Kegan Paul. Nov. 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote233b"></a><a href="#citation233b" +class="footnote">[233b]</a> Vol. I., 3rd ed. 1874, p. 141, +and Problem I. 21.</p> +<p><a name="footnote233c"></a><a href="#citation233c" +class="footnote">[233c]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, +pp. 177, 178. Nov. 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote234a"></a><a href="#citation234a" +class="footnote">[234a]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +193.</p> +<p><a name="footnote234b"></a><a href="#citation234b" +class="footnote">[234b]</a> Ibid, p. 195.</p> +<p><a name="footnote234c"></a><a href="#citation234c" +class="footnote">[234c]</a> Ibid, p. 296. Nov. +1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote234d"></a><a href="#citation234d" +class="footnote">[234d]</a> Ibid. p. 192. Nov. +1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote235"></a><a href="#citation235" +class="footnote">[235]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +296. Nov. 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote236a"></a><a href="#citation236a" +class="footnote">[236a]</a> See page 228.</p> +<p><a name="footnote236b"></a><a href="#citation236b" +class="footnote">[236b]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +33. Nov. 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote236c"></a><a href="#citation236c" +class="footnote">[236c]</a> Ibid, p. 116.</p> +<p><a name="footnote236d"></a><a href="#citation236d" +class="footnote">[236d]</a> Ibid. p. 178.</p> +<p><a name="footnote239"></a><a href="#citation239" +class="footnote">[239]</a> Evolution, Old and New, pp. 357, +358.</p> +<p><a name="footnote240"></a><a href="#citation240" +class="footnote">[240]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +159. Kegan Paul & Co., 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote241"></a><a href="#citation241" +class="footnote">[241]</a> Zoonomia, Vol. I. p. 484.</p> +<p><a name="footnote242a"></a><a href="#citation242a" +class="footnote">[242a]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +297. Kegan Paul & Co., 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote242b"></a><a href="#citation242b" +class="footnote">[242b]</a> Ibid. p. 201.</p> +<p><a name="footnote243a"></a><a href="#citation243a" +class="footnote">[243a]</a> Mental Evolution in Animals, p. +301. November, 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote243b"></a><a href="#citation243b" +class="footnote">[243b]</a> Origin of Species, Ed. I. p. +209.</p> +<p><a name="footnote243c"></a><a href="#citation243c" +class="footnote">[243c]</a> Ibid, Ed. VI. 1876, p. 206.</p> +<p><a name="footnote243d"></a><a href="#citation243d" +class="footnote">[243d]</a> Formation of Vegetable Mould, +&c., p. 98.</p> +<p><a name="footnote244a"></a><a href="#citation244a" +class="footnote">[244a]</a> Quoted by Mr. Romanes as +written in the last year of Mr. Darwin’s life.</p> +<p><a name="footnote244b"></a><a href="#citation244b" +class="footnote">[244b]</a> Macmillan, 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote247"></a><a href="#citation247" +class="footnote">[247]</a> Nature, Jan. 27, 1881.</p> +<p><a name="footnote248a"></a><a href="#citation248a" +class="footnote">[248a]</a> Nature, Jan. 27, 1881.</p> +<p><a name="footnote248b"></a><a href="#citation248b" +class="footnote">[248b]</a> Ibid., Feb. 3, 1881.</p> +<p><a name="footnote249"></a><a href="#citation249" +class="footnote">[249]</a> Nature, Jan. 27, 1881.</p> +<p><a name="footnote250"></a><a href="#citation250" +class="footnote">[250]</a> Mind, October, 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote252a"></a><a href="#citation252a" +class="footnote">[252a]</a> <i>Mind</i> for October 1883, +p. 498.</p> +<p><a name="footnote252b"></a><a href="#citation252b" +class="footnote">[252b]</a> Ibid, p. 505, October 1883.</p> +<p><a name="footnote254a"></a><a href="#citation254a" +class="footnote">[254a]</a> Principles of Psychology, I. +422.</p> +<p><a name="footnote254b"></a><a href="#citation254b" +class="footnote">[254b]</a> Ibid. I. 424.</p> +<p><a name="footnote254c"></a><a href="#citation254c" +class="footnote">[254c]</a> Ibid. I. 424.</p> +<p><a name="footnote255"></a><a href="#citation255" +class="footnote">[255]</a> The first edition of Alps and +Sanctuaries was published Dec. 1882.</p> +<p><a name="footnote265"></a><a href="#citation265" +class="footnote">[265]</a> Princ. of Psych., ed. 3, Vol. +I., p. 136, 1880.</p> +<p><a name="footnote269"></a><a href="#citation269" +class="footnote">[269]</a> Curiosities of Literature, Lond. +1866, Routledge & Co., p. 272.</p> +<p><a name="footnote275"></a><a href="#citation275" +class="footnote">[275]</a> See p. 87 of this vol.</p> +<p><a name="footnote276"></a><a href="#citation276" +class="footnote">[276]</a> Ivanhoe, chap xxiii., near the +beginning.</p> +<p><a name="footnote287"></a><a href="#citation287" +class="footnote">[287]</a> “Well, my dear sir, I am +sorry you do not think as I do, but in these days we cannot all +of us start with the same principles.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote294"></a><a href="#citation294" +class="footnote">[294]</a> For these I must refer the +reader to Alps and Sanctuaries itself.</p> +<p><a name="footnote311"></a><a href="#citation311" +class="footnote">[311]</a> “Dalle meraviglie +finalmente che sono inerenti al simulacro +stesso.”—Cenni storico artistici intorno al santuario +di Oropa. (Prof. Maurizio, Marocco. Turin, Milan, +1866, p. 329.)</p> +<p><a name="footnote313"></a><a href="#citation313" +class="footnote">[313]</a> Marocco, p. 331.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTIONS FROM PREVIOUS WORKS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 19610-h.htm or 19610-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/9/6/1/19610 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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