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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19610-h.zip b/19610-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..046c9bf --- /dev/null +++ b/19610-h.zip 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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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*** + + + + +Transcribed from the 1884 Trubner & Co. edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + +SELECTIONS FROM PREVIOUS WORKS + + +_WITH REMARKS ON MR. G. J. ROMANES'_ "_MENTAL EVOLUTION IN ANIMALS_" +AND +A PSALM OF MONTREAL + +BY +SAMUEL BUTLER + +"The course of true science, like that of true love, never did run +smooth." +PROFESSOR TYNDALL, _Pall Mall Gazette_, Oct 30, 1883. + +(OP. 7) + +LONDON +TRUBNER & CO., LUDGATE HILL +1884 +[_All rights reserved_] + +Ballantyne Press +BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. +EDINBURGH AND LONDON + + + + +PREFACE. + + +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 _Nature_, Jan. 18, 1867. {iii} I wrote +to the _Athenaeum_ (Jan. 26, 1884) and pointed out that _Nature_ 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 _Nature_ up to the date of +Canon Kingsley's death. I also asked for the correct reference. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +_Feb._ 16, 1884. + + + + +SELECTIONS FROM EREWHON. {1} + + +_CURRENT OPINIONS_. (CHAPTER X. OF EREWHON.) + + +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. + +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, +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +* * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 homoeopathy 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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +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. "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. + +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. + +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 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. + + + +AN EREWHONIAN TRIAL. (CHAPTER XI. OF EREWHON.) + + +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. + +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. + +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. +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. + +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:-- + +"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 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. + +"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 +branded in the eyes of your fellow-countrymen with one of the most +heinous known offences. + +"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. + +"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. + +"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 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. + +"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. + +"I do not hesitate therefore to sentence you to imprisonment, 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." + +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. + + + +MALCONTENTS. (PART OF CHAPTER XII. OF EREWHON.) + + +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. + +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 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 _is_ 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 +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. + + + +THE MUSICAL BANKS. (CHAPTER XIV. OF EREWHON.) + + +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. + +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. + +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. +Whatever is incoherent in my description must be referred to the fact of +my never having attained to a full comprehension of the subject. + +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 _the_ 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. + +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 who met them should see whither they were going. I +had never yet been asked to go with them myself. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +During their absence certain reflections forced themselves upon me. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 formerly, owing to the +innovations of these unscrupulous persons. + +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. + +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 _strong_ body (she said this because she saw I was +thinking of the 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. + +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. + +"But haven't you done anything to the money itself?" said I timidly. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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? + +I confess that there were few things in Erewhon which shocked me more +than this. + + + +BIRTH FORMULAE. (CHAPTER XVII. OF EREWHON.) + + +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. + +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, and the arts and +machinations to which they have recourse in order to get themselves into +our own world. + +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. + +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. + +These formulae 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 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. + +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 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. + +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, 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. + +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 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. + +From the book of their mythology about the unborn I made the extracts +which will form the following chapter. + + + +THE WORLD OF THE UNBORN. (PART OF CHAPTER XVII. OF EREWHON.) + + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 _ennui_ 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 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. + +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:-- + +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. + +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. + +"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 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. + +"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 _them_, 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. + +"Imagine what it must be to have an unborn 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? + +"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. + +"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, 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. + +"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 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? + +"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 +faculty, will be most likely to bring you safely and honourably home +through the trials that are before you." {47} + +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. + + + + +SELECTIONS FROM THE FAIR HAVEN. + + +MEMOIR OF THE LATE JOHN PICKARD OWEN. (CHAPTER I. OF THE FAIR HAVEN.) +{48} + + +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. + +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 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! + +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 had not my +mother undertaken the _onus_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. 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. + +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 _de rigueur_ we had +better dispense with it. + +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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, 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. + +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 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. + +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 aerial fabrics that have ever been +reared. + +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 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. + +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 _to +think_ 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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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? + +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 a belief in the personality and providence of the Creator. + +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 +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." + +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. + +For although it was so many years before he was enabled to see the +Christian scheme _as a whole_, 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 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 _qua_ Christianity even of those doctrines which +seem to stand most widely and irreconcilably asunder. + + + + +SELECTIONS FROM LIFE AND HABIT. + + +ON CERTAIN ACQUIRED HABITS. (FROM CHAPTER I. OF LIFE AND HABIT.) {68} + + +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. + +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 from making +his fingers act in exactly the required manner as regards each note of +each part. + +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. + +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. + +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. 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +* * * * * + +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 +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + + + +CONSCIOUS AND UNCONSCIOUS KNOWERS THE LAW AND GRACE. (FROM CHAPTER II. +OF LIFE AND HABIT.) + + +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? + +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 acquainted--seldom enters into our thoughts; yet there +is hardly anything with which we are more incessantly occupied night and +day. + +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 _good_ 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. + +Again, it has been often and very truly said that it is not the conscious +and self-styled sceptic, as Shelley, 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 "_as soon as possible_." There lurks a more profound +distrust of God's power in these words than in almost any open denial of +His existence. + +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 "---" + +The following extract, from a journal which I will not advertise, may +serve as an example: + +"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 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. + +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 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. + +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 _a priori_ 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 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. _Qui s'excuse_, _s'accuse_; 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. + +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--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. + +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 people, +very progressive, it may be, but very aggressive to boot. + +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:-- + +"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 _of +less scientific knowledge_, _but of considerable practical +experience_"--(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." + +"Exactly the same may be said in regard to the mineral structure of a +mining district; the course of a metallic vein being often correctly +indicated by the shrewd guess of an _observant_ workman, when _the +scientific reasoning_ of the mining engineer altogether fails." + +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. + +"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 _an acquired intuition_--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 people who know what's +what rather than to the professorial classes. + +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. + +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 _raison d'etre_ 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 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 _lache_ +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. + +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, 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. + +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. + +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 _sic vos non vobis_; 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, _mutatis mutandis_, 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 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. + +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 _summum bonum_, 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 +conscious of knowing--the less she will know. But still her ideal is in +grace. + +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. + +Above all things let no unwary reader do me the injustice of believing in +_me_. 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. + +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. + +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. + + + +APPLICATION OF FOREGOING CHAPTERS TO CERTAIN HABITS ACQUIRED AFTER BIRTH +WHICH ARE COMMONLY CONSIDERED INSTINCTIVE. (CHAPTER III. OF LIFE AND +HABIT.) + + +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. + +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 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? + +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. + +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 _bona fide_ experience at all. + +Eating and drinking appear to be such actions. The 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. + +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 same, in regard +to the individual, as no experience at all, but _bona fide_ in the +child's own person. + +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. + +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 _bona fide_ +personal recollection and experience, with more effort and failure on the +part of the infant itself, than meet the eye. + +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. + +Seeing and hearing require some practice before their free use is +mastered, but not very much. They are so 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. + +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. + +Is it possible that our unconsciousness concerning our own performance of +all these processes arises from over-experience? + +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. + +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 acts--acts which we have already done a very great number of +times? + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. {96} + +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? + +What is this talk that is made about the experience _of the race_, as +though the experience of one man could profit another who knows nothing +about him? If a man eats his dinner, it nourishes _him_ and not his +neighbour; if he learns a difficult art, it is _he_ 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? + +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 not enjoyed by +his successor, so much as that the successor is _bona fide_ 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. + +Certainly it presents itself to us as a singular coincidence-- + +I. That we are _most conscious of_, _and have most control over_, 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. + +II. That we are _less conscious of_, _and have less control over_, 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. + +ill. That we are _most unconscious of_, _and have least control over_, +our digestion, which we have in common even with our invertebrate +ancestry, and which is a habit of extreme antiquity. + +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 _must_ +have. + +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. + +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 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 _internal tumult_, 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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? + +Such an assertion would be a contradiction to the whole experience of +mankind. Surely the _onus probandi_ must rest with him who makes it. + +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 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? + +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 _is_ 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; _ipso +facto_, 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; +_but it is more easy to suppose that the necessary occasions cannot have +been wanting_, _than that the power which we observe_, _should have been +obtained without practice and memory_. + +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. + +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 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. + + + +PERSONAL IDENTITY. (CHAPTER V. OF LIFE AND HABIT.) + + +"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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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 _facons de parler_ 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 the actual ideas +themselves concerning which we are conversing. + +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. + +"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 _think_ to you without words you would +understand me better." + +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 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. + +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 +_prima facie_ view of the matter goes to the making up of that which we +call identity. + +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 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, _with each of the +impregnate ova from which its parents were developed_. + +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 _it actually +is_ as truly as the octogenarian _is_ the same identity with the ovum +from which he has been developed. The two cases stand or fall together. + +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 _be actually_ 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. + +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. + +* * * * * + +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. + +* * * * * + +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 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. + +* * * * * + +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. + +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 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. + + + +INSTINCT AS INHERITED MEMORY. (CHAPTER XI. OF LIFE AND HABIT.) + + +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. + +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 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. + +But every instinct must have passed through the laboriously intelligent +stages through which human civilisations _and mechanical inventions_ 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, _and machinery_ as his best instructors. Customs and machines +are instincts _and organs_ 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, 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. + +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. + +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:-- + + "Some breeds do, and some breeds don't, + Some breeds will, but this breed won't: + I tried very often to see if it would, + But it said it really couldn't, and I don't think it could." + +* * * * * + +M. Ribot in his work on Heredity {119} 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? + +"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." + +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." + +"Intelligence gropes about, tries this way and that, misses its object, +commits mistakes, and corrects them." + +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. + +"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." + +This is assumption. What is certain is that instinct does not betray +signs of self-consciousness as to its own knowledge. It has dismissed +reference to first principles, and is no longer under the law, but under +the grace of a settled conviction. + +"All seems directed by thought." + +Yes; because all _has been_ in earlier existences directed by thought. + +"Without ever arriving at thought." + +Because it has _got past thought_, 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. + +"And if this phenomenon appear strange, it must be observed that +analogous states occur in ourselves. _All that we do from +habit_--_walking_, _writing_, _or practising a mechanical act_, _for +instance_--_all these and many other very complex acts are performed +without consciousness_. + +"Instinct appears stationary. It does not, like intelligence, seem to +grow and decay, to gain and to lose. It does not improve." + +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 +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. + +"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." + +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. + +"Such," continues M. Ribot, "are the admitted characters of instinct." + +Yes; but are they not also the admitted characters of habitual actions +that are due to memory? + +* * * * * + +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 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." + +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. + +* * * * * + +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:-- + +"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.) + +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. + +Again, a little further on in the same lecture as that above quoted from, +we find:-- + +"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 Moliere's persons of quality--they know everything +(as Moliere says) without having learnt anything. 'Les gens de qualite +savent tout, sans avoir rien appris.'" + +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. + +My last instance I take from M. Ribot, who writes:--"Gratiolet, in his +_Anatomie Comparee du Systems Nerveux_, 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.) + +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. + + + +CONCLUDING REMARKS. (FROM CHAPTER XV. OF LIFE AND HABIT.) + + +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. {125} Such as it is, however, for the +present I must leave it. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 +_actually were_ our remotest ancestor, we must change our ideas +concerning personality altogether. + +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-- + + . . . "Old experience doth attain + To something like prophetic strain." + +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. + +I think I may say that we found the hypothesis fit 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. + +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. {127} + +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. + +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. + +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 +sentence by the sentence which has immediately preceded it. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +A living creature well supported by a mass of healthy ancestral memory is +a young and growing creature, free 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. + +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. + + + + +SELECTIONS FROM EVOLUTION, OLD AND NEW. {131} + + +IMPOTENCE OF PALEY'S CONCLUSION. THE TELEOLOGY OF THE EVOLUTIONIST. +(FROM CHAPTER III. OF EVOLUTION, OLD AND NEW.) + + +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 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. + +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 _ancestral_ 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 previous tentative +efforts, undoing to-day what was so carefully done yesterday, and +_repeating for centuries the same tentatives in the same succession_. 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, _not_ 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 way, and only reaches the goal after many times missing +the path' (on dirait que la nature tatonne et ne conduit son oeuvre a bon +fin, qu'apres s'etre souvent trompee)." {134a} + +The above passage does not, I think, affect the evidence for design which +we adduced in the preceding chapter. {134b} However strange the process +of manufacture may appear, when the work comes to be turned out the +design is too manifest to be doubted. + +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--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. + +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. + +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 _nexus_ 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 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." + +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?" + +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 +by his antecedents, and his practical knowledge of the requirements of +the case--for he is man himself. + +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. + +Thus we have a third alternative presented to us. + +Mr. Charles Darwin and his followers deny design, as having any +appreciable share in the formation of organism at all. + +Paley and the theologians insist on design, but upon a designer outside +the universe and the organism. + +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. + + + +FAILURE OF THE FIRST EVOLUTIONISTS TO SEE THEIR POSITION AS TELEOLOGICAL. +(CHAPTER IV. OF EVOLUTION, OLD AND NEW.) + + +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 _crux_ 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. + +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 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. + +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 +_inter se_ 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. _De +non apparentibus et non existentibus eadem est lex_ 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. + +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. + +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. 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. + +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. + +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. + +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.' {141} + +These organs are now no longer useful, but they 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 formulae to ourselves that we think no more of their meaning than we +do of Julius Caesar 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." + +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. 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 _a priori_. + +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 _amoeba_ 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 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. + +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. + +"There are men," writes Professor Tyndal in the _Nineteenth Century_ for +last November, {144} "and by no means the minority, who, however wealthy +in regard to facts, can never rise into the region of principles; 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." + +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. + + + +THE TELEOLOGICAL EVOLUTION OF ORGANISM. (CHAPTER V. OF EVOLUTION, OLD +AND NEW.) + + +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. + +The small jelly-speck, which we call the amoeba, 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 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. + +"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 amoeba neither better nor worse than by +man. The history of organic development is the history of a moral +struggle. + +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. + +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. + +"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." {148} + +After meeting this theory with answers which need not detain us, he +continues:-- + +"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 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 _begin_." + +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 _beginning_ of +microscopes, which might indeed make some progress when once originated, +but which could never originate? + +It might be pointed out to such a reasoner, firstly, that as regards any +acquired power the various stages 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. + +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 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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 {153a} 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 _something_--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." {153b} + +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 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. + +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 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 _Times_ +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 be the next step after the +one being taken at any given moment. + +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. + +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 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. + +* * * * * + +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. + +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. + +And now I will ask one more question, which may seem, perhaps, to have +but little importance, but which 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? + + + +BUFFON--MEMOIR. (CHAPTER VIII. OF EVOLUTION, OLD AND NEW.) + + +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. + +He studied at Dijon with much _eclat_, 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. + +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. + +In 1752 Buffon married Mdlle de Saint Belin, 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 +guillotined at the age of twenty-nine, a few days only before the +extinction of the Reign of Terror. + +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." + +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. + +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 tell us. These are the only people whom it +is worth while to look to and study from. + +"Glory," said Buffon, after speaking of the hours during which he had +laboured, "glory comes always after labour if she can--_and she generally +can_." 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." + +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. + +"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." {162} + +"Le style, c'est l'homme memo." Elsewhere he tells us what true style +is, but I quote from memory and cannot be sure of the passage. "Le +style," he says "est comme le bonheur; il vient de la douceur de l'ame." + +Is it possible not to think of the following?-- + +"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." {163} + + + +BUFFON'S METHOD--THE IRONICAL CHARACTER OF HIS WORK. (CHAPTER IX. OF +EVOLUTION, OLD AND NEW.) + + +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," {164a} 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?" {164b} + +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:-- + + "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 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." {165} + + "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 which has no other connection with the horse than the + fact that it has a single hoof?" {166a} + +Can we suppose that Buffon really saw no more connection than this? The +writer whom we shall presently find {166b} 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? + +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." + +Perhaps the key to this piece of apparent extravagance is to be found in +the word "mysterieuse." {166c} 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. + +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. + +"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, 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." +{168} + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 _ad captandum_, 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. + +Thus the goat breeds with the sheep, and may therefore 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. + +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 were too important to be deferred long, and are +accordingly put forward under cover of the ass, his second animal. + +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 _he_ 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? + +The passage to which I am alluding is as follows:-- + + "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 primitive and general design which we can follow for a long + way, and the departures from which (_degenerations_) 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 vertebrae, 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 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." {174} + + "If we regard the matter thus, not only the ass and the horse, _but + even man himself_, _the apes_, _the quadrupeds_, _and all animals + might be regarded but as forming members of one and the same family_. + 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 they could have been formed only by crossing, by + the accumulation of successive variations (_variation successive_), + 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." + +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. + +"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 immediat de la creation, aun nombre d'individus +aussi petit que l'on voudroit). _For if it were once shown that we had +right grounds for establishing these families_; _if the point were once +gained that among animals and vegetables there had been_, _I do not say +several species_, _but even a single one_, _which had been produced in +the course of direct descent from another species_; _if for example it +could be once shown that the ass was but a degeneration from the +horse_--_then there is no further limit to be set to the power of +nature_, _and we should not be wrong in supposing that with sufficient +time she could have evolved all other organised forms from one primordial +type_ (_et l'on n'auroit pas tort de supposer_, _que d'un seul etre elle +a su tirer avec le temps tous les autres etres organises_)." + +Buffon now felt that he had sailed as near the wind as was desirable. His +next sentence is as follows:-- + +"But no! It is certain _from revelation_ 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." {176} + +This might be taken as _bona fide_, 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. + +The compromise which he thought fit to put before 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." {177a} It would be satisfactory to know where an accessory touch +is supposed to begin and end. + +And again:-- + + "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). + {177b} + +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. + +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. + +Buffon on one of the early pages of his first volume protested against +the introduction of either "_plaisanterie_" or "_equivoque_" (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:-- + + "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 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. + + "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. + + "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 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?" + {180} + +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. + + + + +EXTRACTS FROM UNCONSCIOUS MEMORY. + + +RECAPITULATION AND STATEMENT OF AN OBJECTION. (CHAPTER X. OF UNCONSCIOUS +MEMORY.) {181a} + + +The true theory of unconscious action is that of Professor Hering, from +whose lecture {181b} 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. + +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" {181c}) 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. + +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. + +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 a piece of music, each bar leading +his recollection to the bar that should next follow. + +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:-- + + "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."--_The Crayfish_, p. 127. + +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 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 _city_," 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. + +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. + +"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 {184}--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 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?" + +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 _why_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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? + +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 _angina pectoris_ at the age of forty-nine; so +did Dr. X---. Can it be pretended that Dr. X--- remembered having died +of _angina pectoris_ 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. + +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 +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? + +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? + +A friend who had been arguing with me for some time as above, concluded +with the following words:-- + +"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 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." + +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. + +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." {189} 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. + +A clerk in an office has an hour in the middle of the day for dinner. +About half-past twelve he begins to 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. + +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 _menu_, makes the same choice for the same reasons, eats, is +satisfied, and returns. + +What similarity of action can be greater than this, 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. + +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 +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? + + + +ON CYCLES. (CHAPTER XI. OF UNCONSCIOUS MEMORY.) + + +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. + +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 +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. + +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 _inter se_ 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 A1, A2, +&c.; let A also have consciousness and a sense of self-interest, which +qualities must, _ex hypothesi_, 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. +A1 and A2 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 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. + +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. + +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 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? + +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? +{198a} 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. {198b} + + + +REPUTATION--MEMORY AT ONCE A PROMOTER AND A DISTURBER OF UNIFORMITY OF +ACTION AND STRUCTURE. (CHAPTER XII. OF UNCONSCIOUS MEMORY.) + + +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. + +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. + +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. 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. + +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 _a priori_ objection, therefore, is +removed, and the question becomes one of fact--does the offspring act as +if it remembered? + +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. + +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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +To the objector that a caterpillar becomes a chrysalis 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. + +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 +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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, _but also of the particular point +itself_; there is therefore, at each point in a habitual performance, a +memory at once of like antecedents _and of a like present_. + +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 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. + +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. + +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, _ex +hypothesi_, 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 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. + +As regards the second of the two classes of actions above referred +to--those, namely which are not recurrent or habitual, _and at no point +of which is there a memory of a past present like the one which is +present now_--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. + +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 _a presence only of like presents +without recollection of the same_. + +The sameness of action of like persons placed under 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. + +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 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. + +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 _vice versa_. 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + +CONCLUSION. (CHAPTER XIII. OF UNCONSCIOUS MEMORY.) + + +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. + +There is life infinitely lower and more minute than any which our most +powerful microscopes reveal to us, but let us leave this upon one side +and begin with the amoeba. 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 amoeba to man. If there had +been no such memory, the amoeba of one generation would have exactly +resembled the amoeba 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 greater and +greater with increasing longevity and more complex social and mechanical +inventions. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 amoeba 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--for the tendency to +differ and the tendency not to differ. + +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. + +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 _some_ leaven. + +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 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. + +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 _Deus ex machina_ 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 (_Nineteenth Century_, November 1878), wrote:-- + +"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.'" {217} And so Professor +Huxley-- + + "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." {218} + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 transparent, and consists too often in saying "organism +which . . . must be classified among fishes," {220a} instead of "fish" +and then proclaiming that they have "an ineradicable tendency to try to +make things clear." {220b} + +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:-- + + "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 + _the aetiology 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_? 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." {220c} + +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 _most_ 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. + +Having mentioned protoplasm, I may ask the reader to note the breakdown +of that school of philosophy which divided the _ego_ from the _non ego_. +The protoplasmists, on the one hand, are whittling away at _ego_, 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. + +Others, again, are so unifying the _ego_ and the _non ego_, that with +them there will soon be as little of the _non ego_ left as there is of +the _ego_ 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. + +The truth is, that all classification whatever, when we examine its +_raison d'etre_ 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. + +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 _Trapa natans_ {221} and Lamarck's kindred passage on +the descent of _Ranunculus hederaceus_ from _Ranunculus aquatilis_ {222a} +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. +{222b} + +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:-- + + "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 for this purpose, but + because any varieties which occurred among its antitypes with a longer + neck than usual _at once secured a fresh range of pasture over the + same ground as their short-necked companions_, _and on the first + scarcity of food were thereby enabled to outlive them_" (italics in + original). {223a} + +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 {223b} 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. + +Mr. Darwin, with characteristic caution, only commits himself to saying +that Mr. Wallace has arrived at _almost_ (italics mine) the same general +conclusions as he, Mr. Darwin, has done; {223c} 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," {223d} and he +still comprehensively condemns the "well-known doctrine of inherited +habit, as advanced by Lamarck." {224} + +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. + +Did Mr. Herbert Spencer, for example, "repeatedly and easily refute" +Lamarck's hypothesis in his brilliant article in the _Leader_, 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! + +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:-- + + "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. + + "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 {225a}--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." {225b} + +In 1873 M. Martin published his edition of Lamarck's _Philosophic +Zoologique_. 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." {225c} + +Professor Huxley in his article on Evolution is no less cavalier than Mr. +Wallace. He writes: {225d}-- + + "Lamarck introduced the conception of the action of an animal on + itself as a factor in producing modification." + +Lamarck did nothing of the kind. It was Buffon and Dr. Darwin who +introduced this, but more especially Dr. Darwin. The accuracy of +Professor 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. + +"But _a little consideration showed_" (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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + + + + +REMARKS ON MR. ROMANES' MENTAL EVOLUTION IN ANIMALS. {228a} + + +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. + +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," {228b} and Mr. G. H. Lewes +attributes many instincts to what he calls the "lapsing of intelligence." +{228c} So does Mr. Herbert Spencer, {228d} 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," {228e} +"hereditary experience," {228f} and "hereditary memory and instinct," +{228g} 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 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. + +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. + +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." {229} 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 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. + +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. {230} + +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 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. + +"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." {231a} + +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. + +As regards Mr. Romanes the case is different. His recent work, Mental +Evolution in Animals, {231b} 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. + +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" as to justify us in considering them to be of essentially the +same kind. {232a} + +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. {232b} + +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. {232c} 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." + +Lower down on the same page he writes:-- + + "As showing how close is the connection between hereditary memory and + instinct," &c. + +And on the following page:-- + + "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." + +Again:-- + + "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 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." {233a} + +Again:-- + + "Instincts probably owe their origin and development to one or other + of two principles. + + "I. The first mode of origin consists in natural selection or + survival of the fittest, continuously preserving actions, &c. &c. . . + . + + "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 {233b}) the 'lapsing of intelligence.'" {233c} + +Later on:-- + + "That 'practice makes perfect' is a matter, as I have previously said, + of daily observation. Whether 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." {234a} + +From this Mr. Romanes goes on to show "that automatic actions and +conscious habits may be inherited," {234b} 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." {234c} + +On another page Mr. Romanes says:-- + + "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." {234d} + +Mr. Romanes says in a note that this theory was first advanced by Canon +Kingsley in _Nature_, 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. _Nature_ did not +begin to appear till the end of 1869, and I can find no communication +from Canon Kingsley bearing upon hereditary memory in any number of +_Nature_ 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." + +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." {235} + +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. + +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. + +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 phenomena of memory, he speaks of "heredity +as playing an important part _in forming memory_ 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, {236a} which seems to me absurd. + +Over and over again Mr. Romanes insists that it is heredity which does +this or that. Thus it is "_heredity with natural selection which adapt_ +the anatomical plan of the ganglia." {236b} It is heredity which +impresses nervous changes on the individual. {236c} "In the lifetime of +species actions originally intelligent may by frequent repetition _and +heredity_," &c. {236d}; 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. + +That he is right Mr. Romanes seems to me to admit, though in a very +unsatisfactory way. + + + + +REMARKS ON MR. ROMANES' MENTAL EVOLUTION IN ANIMALS--(_continued_). + + +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 _conditio sine qua non_ of all mental life" (page 35). + +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. + +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. + +On a later page, indeed, Mr. Romanes speaks point-blank of the new-born +child as "_embodying_ the results of a great mass of _hereditary +experience_" (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, 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. + +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. + +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:-- + + "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." + +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. + +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 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." + +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. + +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." {239} 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 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. + +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. + +Here, for example, is Mr. Romanes' definition of instinct:-- + + "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." {240} + +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-- + +"Instinct is knowledge or habit acquired in past generations--the new +generation remembering what happened to it before it parted company with +the old." Then he might have added as a rider-- + +"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." + +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 {241}) as +"a branch or elongation" of the one immediately preceding it. + +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. + +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 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 "_heredity being able +to work up_ the faculty of homing into the instinct of migration," {242a} +or of "the principle of (natural) selection combining with that of +lapsing intelligence to the formation of a joint result," {242b} 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. + + + + +REMARKS ON MR. ROMANES' MENTAL EVOLUTION IN ANIMALS--(_concluded_). + + +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 +"_instinctive_, _i.e._, _memory transmitted from one generation to +another_." {243a} + +Briefly, the stages of Mr. Darwin's opinion upon the subject of +hereditary memory are as follows:-- + +1859. "It would be _the most serious error_ to suppose that the greater +number of instincts have been acquired by habit in one generation and +transmitted by inheritance to succeeding generations." {243b} And this +more especially applies to the instincts of many ants. + +1876. "It would be _a serious error_ to suppose" &c., as before. {243c} + +1881. "We should remember _what a mass of inherited knowledge_ is +crowded into the minute brain of a worker ant." {243d} + +1881 or 1882. Speaking of a given habitual action 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.e._, +_memory transmitted from one generation to another_. {244a} + +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 _Adventure_ and _Beagle_, 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). + +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. + +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 Muller's Fertilisation of Flowers, {244b} 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 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. + +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 Muller's book, for what little Hermann Muller +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. + +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. + +I should like to have seen Mr. Darwin say this more explicitly. Indeed I +should have liked to have seen 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. + +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. + +"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, _being +able to be perfected_. + +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. + +Mr Herbert Spencer has not in his more recent works said anything which +enables me to appeal to his authority. + +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 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. + +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 _Nature_ some years before _Nature_ 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, {247} he scoffed at the very theory +which he is now adopting. + +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: + +"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. + +"We can understand," he continued, "in some measure how an alteration in +brain structure when once 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 _Nature_ already referred to. + +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. {248a} In my reply to Mr. Romanes I said, +"I will not characterise this accusation in the terms which it merits." +{248b} Mr. Romanes, in the following number of _Nature_, 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. + +The reply to Evolution, Old and New, which I actually 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. + +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 +homoeopathist; {249} 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. + +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 and +to arrive at the same general conclusion as myself. + +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 _Examiner_ (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 _Academy_ 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." + +A few years, and Mr. Allen entertains a very different opinion of Mr. +Darwin's magnificent achievement. + +"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." {250} + +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 associates with Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck, but more especially +(and on the whole I suppose justly) with Lamarck. + +"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 +_practically unthinkable_; and that we have therefore no alternative but +to accept the second." + +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 _that all brains are what they are in virtue of +antecedent function_. The one creed makes the man depend mainly upon the +accidents of molecular physics in a colliding germ cell and sperm cell; +_the other makes him depend mainly upon the doings and gains of his +ancestors as modified and altered by himself_." + +Here is a sentence taken almost at random from the body of the article:-- + + "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 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." + +Of Natural Selection Mr. Allen writes much, as Professor Mivart and +others have been writing for many years past. + +"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." {252a} + +Mr. Allen may say this now, but until lately he has been among the first +to scold any one else who said so. + +And this is how the article concludes:-- + +"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." {252b} + +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. + +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 _all the +facts_ with transparent lucidity"? + +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 _cruces_ 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? + +People may say what they like about "the experience of the race," {254a} +"the registration of experiences continued for numberless generations," +{254b} "infinity of experiences," {254c} "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." + +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. + +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, _longo +intervallo_, 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. + + + +POSTSCRIPT. + + +This afternoon (March 7, 1884), the copies of this book being ready for +issue, I see Mr. Romanes' letter to the _Athenaeum_ of this day, and get +this postscript pasted into the book after binding. + +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 _Fraser_, June, 1867, and are as follows:-- + + "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. + +This is a very interesting passage, and I am glad to quote it; but it +hardly amounts to advancing the theory 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 "_this_" 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. + +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. + +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. + +Mr. Romanes says that "the theory in question forms the backbone of all +the previous literature 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 _Nature_, 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. Romanes wrote the words just quoted, he has +soon forgotten them. + +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. + +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. + + + + +EXTRACTS FROM "ALPS AND SANCTUARIES OP PIEDMONT AND THE CANTON TICINO." + + +DALPE, PRATO, ROSSURA. (FROM CHAPTER III. OF ALPS AND SANCTUARIES.) +{255} + + +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 _you_ 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 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. + +* * * * * + +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. + +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 +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 _con_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. + +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 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. + +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. + +* * * * * + +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! + +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 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. + +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." + +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! +I suppose they must ultimately be connected with reproduction--the +consoling idea being a kind of small cross which _re-generates_ or _re- +creates_ 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. + +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, +easily amused and easily bored, and one, moreover, which if bored, yawns +horribly. + +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. + + + +CALONICO. (FROM CHAPTER V. OF ALPS AND SANCTUARIES.) + + +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 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 mediaeval road with +more frequent stone bridges, and from the mediaeval to the Napoleonic +carriage-road. + +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 mediaeval, was perhaps a thousand; from the mediaeval 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. + +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. 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. + +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 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. + +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, {265} 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. + +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 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. + +To return, however, to Calonico. The _curato_ 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. + +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. _Surtout point de zele_ is not the saying of a +cynic, but the conclusion of a sensible man; and the more deep our +feeling is about any matter, the more occasion have we to be on our guard +against _zele_ 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. + +I have Italian friends whom I greatly value, and who tell me they think I +flirt just a trifle too much with "_il partito nero_," 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. '_Il prete_' they +say, with a significant look, '_e sempre prete_.' For the future let us +have professors and men of science instead of priests." + +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. + +In old times people gave their spiritual and intellectual sop to Nemesis. +Even when most positive, they admitted a percentage of doubt. Mr. +Tennyson 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 _boy bishop_ or _pope of +fools_ 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 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:-- + + "'Haec est clara dies, clararum clara dierum, + Haec est festa dies festarum festa dierum.'" {269} + +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--"_Surtout point de zele_." 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 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. + +Surely truces, without even an _arriere pensee_ 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. + +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 _is_ "lying"? +Turning for moral guidance to 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? + +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! + +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 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. + +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 _curato_ 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 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. + +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. + +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 _devot_, 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 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. + + + +PIORA. (FROM CHAPTER VI. OF ALPS AND SANCTUARIES.) {275} + + +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. + +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 _ensemble_. "She would have +afforded," as Sir Walter Scott says, "a study for a Rembrandt, had that +celebrated painter existed at the period," {276} but she must have been a +smart-looking, handsome girl once. + +She brightened up in conversation. I talked about Piora, which I already +knew, and the _Lago Tom_, the highest of the three lakes. She said she +knew the _Lago Tom_. I said laughingly, "Oh, I have no doubt you do. +We've had many a good day at the _Lago Tom_, I know." She looked down at +once. + +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--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 _S. Maria della Neve_,--a "St. Mary of the Snow;" but I +do wonder that she has not been painted. + +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 _St. Maria delle Ferrovie_--a St. Mary of the Railways. + +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 +is an hour and a half's rapid ascent, and at last all on a sudden one +finds oneself on the _Lago Ritom_, close to the hotel. + +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 _Lago di Tremorgio_, they cannot +do this, and hence perish, though the lakes have been repeatedly stocked. +The trout in the _Lago Ritom_ 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. + +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 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. + +Then I wandered on till I came to the chapel of S. Carlo; and in a few +minutes found myself on the _Lugo di Cadagna_. 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 _Lago di +Cadagna_. 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. + +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 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. + +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 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. + + + +S. MICHELE AND MONTE PIRCHIRIANO. (EXTRACTS FROM CHAPTERS VII. AND X. OF +ALPS AND SANCTUARIES.) + + +The history of the sanctuary of S. Michele is briefly as follows:-- + +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" (_lo sdruscito_), 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 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. + +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 [Greek text], or the Lord's fire. + +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 +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. + +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. + +* * * * * + +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 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As I have said, Catholic priests have rather a fascination 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." {287} + +* * * * * + +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 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. + +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. + +* * * * * + +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 I presumed not, for he was not in the +habit of spending his time so well. + +"I wish he had built it," said my friend; "for then perhaps he would +build us some more." + +"Or we might even get a church out of him," said I, a little slyly. + +"Ha, ha, ha! we will convert him, and make a good Christian of him in the +end." + +When will our Protestantism, or Rationalism, or whatever it may be, sit +as lightly upon ourselves? + +Another time I had the following dialogue with an old Piedmontese priest +who lived in a castle which I asked permission to go over:-- + +"Vous etes Anglais, monsieur?" said he in French. + +"Oui, monsieur." + +"Vous etes Catholique?" + +"Monsieur, je suis de la religion de mes ancetres." + +"Pardon, monsieur, vos ancetres etaient Catholiques jusqu'au temps de +Henri Huit." + +"Mais il y a trois cents ans depuis le temps de Henri Huit." + +"Eh bien; chacun a ses convictions; vous ne parlez pas contre la +religion?" + +"Jamais, jamais, monsieur, j'ai un respect enorme pour l'eglise +Catholique." + +"Monsieur, faites comme chez vous; allez ou vous voulez; vous trouverez +toutes les portes ouvertes. Amusez vous bien." + + + +CONSIDERATIONS ON THE DECLINE OF ITALIAN ART. (FROM CHAPTER XIII. OF +ALPS AND SANCTUARIES.) + + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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 irresistible desire to paint it, but from a wish to paint an +academy picture, and win money or applause. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 naivete, 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. + +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. {294} The +first year he went abroad with me he could hardly draw at all. He was no +year away from England more 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 _sine qua non_. 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. + +This is the system of apprenticeship _versus_ 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. + +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 _one_ 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 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. + +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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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 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. + +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 in my limited area; but the standing drinks and inquiring was +being as industrious as the circumstances would allow. + +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 _bona fide_ 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. + +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 cleaning his +brushes. As for the good side of universities, the proper preservative +of this is to be found in the club. + +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 +_technique_ is concerned, almost every one now can paint as well as is in +the least desirable. The same _mutatis mutandis_ 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +Professional men should be excluded, if for no other reason yet for this, +that they know too much for the beginner to be _en rapport_ 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. + +If one is climbing a very high mountain which will 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." + +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. + +I said in an early part of this book that the best 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. + +I must reserve other remarks upon this subject for another occasion. + + + +SANCTUARIES OF OROPA AND GRAGLIA. (FROM CHAPTERS XV. AND XVI. OF ALPS +AND SANCTUARIES.) + + +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. + +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 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. + +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 _cascine_ 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. + +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 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. + +The buildings consist of two main courts. The first comprises a couple +of modern wings, connected by the magnificent facade of what is now the +second or inner court. This facade 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. + +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 facade. 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 first place that comes handy, and nobody's bones are broken. + +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 +_versus_ conventionalism in art--a subject much too large to be treated +here. + +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 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. + +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 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. + +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. + +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, 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:-- + + "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. + + "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, {311} and which endure + to this day, such as is its immunity from all worm and from the decay + which would naturally have occurred in it through time and damp--more + especially in the feet, through the rubbing of religious objects + against them. + + * * * * * + + "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. + + "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. section 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." + +I will only give one more extract. It runs:-- + + "In 1855 a celebrated Roman portrait-painter, after having carefully + inspected the image of the Virgin Mary at Oropa, declared it to be + certainly a work of the first century of our era." {313} + +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. + +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. + +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 _cappellani_, 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." + +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 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. + +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. + +The gates close at ten o'clock at night, and open at sunrise, "but if any +visitor wishes to make Alpine 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. + +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). + +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. + +There are _trattorie_ and cafes 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. + +Such are the bye-laws of this remarkable institution. + +Few except the very rich are so under-worked that 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 affords excellent headquarters, and which are looked +upon with every favour by the authorities. + +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 1.5d. +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. + +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, 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. + +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. + +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 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. + +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, as the final examination. This +would be enough for the present. + +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. + +* * * * * + +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. + +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 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. + +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 _inter se_. 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; 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. + +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. + +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 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. + + + + +A PSALM OF MONTREAL. + + +[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.] + +Stowed away in a Montreal lumber-room, +The Discobolus standeth, and turneth his face to the wall; +Dusty, cobweb-covered, maimed, and set at naught, +Beauty crieth in an attic, and no man regardeth. + O God! O Montreal! + +Beautiful by night and day, beautiful in summer and winter, +Whole or maimed, always and alike beautiful,-- +He preacheth gospel of grace to the skins of owls, +And to one who seasoneth the skins of Canadian owls. + O God! O Montreal! + +When I saw him, I was wroth, and I said, "O Discobolus! +Beautiful Discobolus, a Prince both among gods and men, +What doest thou here, how camest thou here, Discobolus, +Preaching gospel in vain to the skins of owls?" + O God! O Montreal! + +And I turned to the man of skins, and said unto him, "Oh! thou man of +skins, +Wherefore hast thou done thus, to shame the beauty of the Discobolus?" +But the Lord had hardened the heart of the man of skins, +And he answered, "My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." + O God! O Montreal! + +"The Discobolus is put here because he is vulgar,-- +He hath neither vest nor pants with which to cover his limbs; +I, sir, am a person of most respectable connections,-- +My brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." + O God! O Montreal! + +Then I said, "O brother-in law to Mr. Spurgeon's haberdasher! +Who seasonest also the skins of Canadian owls, +Thou callest 'trousers' 'pants,' whereas I call them 'trousers,' +Therefore thou art in hell-fire, and may the Lord pity thee! + O God! O Montreal! + +"Preferrest thou the gospel of Montreal to the gospel of Hellas, +The gospel of thy connection with Mr. Spurgeon's haberdashery to the +gospel of the Discobolus?" +Yet none the less blasphemed he beauty, saying, "The Discobolus hath no +gospel,-- +But my brother-in-law is haberdasher to Mr. Spurgeon." + O God! O Montreal! + +PRINTED BY BALLANTYNE, HANSON AND CO. +EDINBURGH AND LONDON. + + + + +Works by the same Author. + + +Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 6s. +EREWHON; or, OVER THE RANGE. Op. 1. + +A WORK OF SATIRE AND IMAGINATION. + +Second Edition. Demy 8vo, Cloth, 7s. 6d. +THE FAIR HAVEN. Op. 2. + +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 JOHN PICKARD OWEN, with a +Memoir by his supposed brother, WILLIAM BICKERSTETH OWEN. + +Second Edition. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 7s. 6d. +LIFE AND HABIT. Op. 3. + +AN ESSAY AFTER A COMPLETER VIEW OF EVOLUTION. + +Second Edition, with Appendix and Index. Crown 8vo, Cloth, 10s. 6d. +EVOLUTION, OLD AND NEW. Op. 4. + +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. + +Crown 8vo, Cloth, 7s. 6d. +UNCONSCIOUS MEMORY. Op. 5. + +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." + +Pott Quarto, Cloth, 21s. + +ALPS AND SANCTUARIES OF PIEDMONT AND THE CANTON TICINO. Op. 6. + +Profusely Illustrated by Charles Gogin, H. F. Jones, and the Author. + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{iii} See page 234 of this book. + +{1} The first edition of Erewhon was published in the spring of 1872. + +{47} 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. + +{48} The first edition of the Fair Haven was published April 1873. + +{68} The first edition of Life and Habit was published in December, +1877. + +{96} See page 228 of this book, "Remarks on Mr. Romanes' 'Mental +Evolution in Animals.'" + +{119} Kegan Paul, 1875. + +{125} 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. + +{127} 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." + +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). + +{131} Evolution, Old and New, was published in May, 1879. + +{134a} Quatrefages, "Metamorphoses de l'Homme et des Animaux," 1862, p. +42; G. H. Lewes, "Physical Basis of Mind," 1877, p. 83. + +{134b} I have been unable, through want of space, to give this chapter +here. + +{141} Page 210, first edition. + +{144} 1878. + +{148} "Nat. Theol." ch. xxiii. + +{153a} 1878. + +{153b} "Oiseaux," vol. i. p. 5. + +{162} "Discours de Reception a l'Academie Francaise." + +{163} I Cor. xiii. 8, 13. + +{164a} Tom. i. p. 24, 1749. + +{164b} Tom. i. p. 40, 1749. + +{165} Vol. i. p. 34, 1749. + +{166a} Tom. i. p. 36. + +{166b} See p. 173. + +{166c} Tom. i. p. 33. + +{168} The Naturalist's Library, vol. ii. p. 23. Edinburgh, 1843. + +{174} Tom. iv. p. 381, 1753. + +{176} Tom. iv. p. 383, 1753 (this was the first volume on the lower +animals). + +{177a} Tom xiii. p. 1765. + +{177b} Sup. tom. v. p. 27, 1778. + +{180} Tom. i. p. 28, 1749. + +{181a} Unconscious Memory was published December, 1880. + +{181b} See Unconscious Memory, chap. vi. + +{181c} The Spirit of Nature, p. 39. J. A. Churchill & Co. 1880. + +{184} 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. + +{189} Erewhon, chap, xxiii. + +{198a} It must be remembered that this passage is put as if in the mouth +of an objector. + +{198b} Mr. Herbert Spencer denies that there can be memory without a +"tolerably deliberate succession of psychical states." {198c} 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." {198d} It is plain, +therefore, that he could after all find no expression better suited for +his purpose. + +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." {198e} + +{198c} Principles of Psychology, I., 447. + +{198d} Ibid, p. 452. + +{198e} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 130 + +{217} Nineteenth Century, Nov. 1878, p. 826. + +{218} Encyclopedia Britannica, Art. Biology, 9th ed., Vol. 3, p. 689. + +{220a} Professor Huxley, Encycl. Brit., 9th ed., Art. Evolution, p. 750. + +{220b} "Hume," by Professor Huxley, p. 45. + +{220c} "The Philosophy of Crayfishes," by the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop +of Carlisle. Nineteenth Century for October 1880, p. 636. + +{221} Les Amours des Plantes, p. 360. Paris, 1800. + +{222a} Philosophie Zoologique, tom. i. p. 231. Ed. M. Martin. Paris, +1873. + +{222b} Those who read the three following chapters will see that these +words, written in 1880, have come out near the truth in 1884. + +{223a} Journal of the Proceedings of the Linnean Society. Williams & +Norgate. 1858, p. 61. + +{223b} Contributions to the Theory of Natural Selection, 2d ed., 1871, +p. 41. + +{223c} Origin of Species, p. I, ed. 1872. + +{223d} 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."--_Origin of Species_, 1st ed., p. 209. + +{224} Origin of Species, 1st ed., p. 242; 6th ed., p. 233. + +{225a} I never could find what these particular points were. + +{225b} Isidore Geoffrey, Hist. Nat. Gen., tom. ii. p. 407, 1859. + +{225c} M. Martin's edition of the Philosophie Zoologique (Paris, 1873), +Introduction, p. vi. + +{225d} Encyclopaedia Britannica, 9th ed., p. 750. + +{228a} Kegan Paul & Co., 1883. + +{228b} Principles of Psychology, Vol. I. p. 445. + +{228c} Ibid. I. 456. + +{228d} Problems of Life and Mind, first series, Vol. I., 3rd ed. 1874, +p. 141, and Problem I. 21. + +{228e} p. 33. + +{228f} p. 77. + +{228g} p. 115. + +{229} Translation of Professor Hering's address on "Memory as an +Organised Function of Matter," Unconscious Memory, p. 116. + +{230} See Zoonomia, Vol. I. p. 484. + +{231a} Problems of Life and Mind, I. pp. 239, 240: 1874. + +{231b} Kegan Paul. November, 1883. + +{232a} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 113. + +{232b} Ibid. p. 115. + +{232c} Ibid. p. 116. Kegan Paul. Nov. 1883. + +{233a} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 131. Kegan Paul. Nov. 1883. + +{233b} Vol. I., 3rd ed. 1874, p. 141, and Problem I. 21. + +{233c} Mental Evolution in Animals, pp. 177, 178. Nov. 1883. + +{234a} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 193. + +{234b} Ibid, p. 195. + +{234c} Ibid, p. 296. Nov. 1883. + +{234d} Ibid. p. 192. Nov. 1883. + +{235} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 296. Nov. 1883. + +{236a} See page 228. + +{236b} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 33. Nov. 1883. + +{236c} Ibid, p. 116. + +{236d} Ibid. p. 178. + +{239} Evolution, Old and New, pp. 357, 358. + +{240} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 159. Kegan Paul & Co., 1883. + +{241} Zoonomia, Vol. I. p. 484. + +{242a} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 297. Kegan Paul & Co., 1883. + +{242b} Ibid. p. 201. + +{243a} Mental Evolution in Animals, p. 301. November, 1883. + +{243b} Origin of Species, Ed. I. p. 209. + +{243c} Ibid, Ed. VI. 1876, p. 206. + +{243d} Formation of Vegetable Mould, &c., p. 98. + +{244a} Quoted by Mr. Romanes as written in the last year of Mr. Darwin's +life. + +{244b} Macmillan, 1883. + +{247} Nature, Jan. 27, 1881. + +{248a} Nature, Jan. 27, 1881. + +{248b} Ibid., Feb. 3, 1881. + +{249} Nature, Jan. 27, 1881. + +{250} Mind, October, 1883. + +{252a} _Mind_ for October 1883, p. 498. + +{252b} Ibid, p. 505, October 1883. + +{254a} Principles of Psychology, I. 422. + +{254b} Ibid. I. 424. + +{254c} Ibid. I. 424. + +{255} The first edition of Alps and Sanctuaries was published Dec. 1882. + +{265} Princ. of Psych., ed. 3, Vol. I., p. 136, 1880. + +{269} Curiosities of Literature, Lond. 1866, Routledge & Co., p. 272. + +{275} See p. 87 of this vol. + +{276} Ivanhoe, chap xxiii., near the beginning. + +{287} "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." + +{294} For these I must refer the reader to Alps and Sanctuaries itself. + +{311} "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.) + +{313} Marocco, p. 331. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SELECTIONS FROM PREVIOUS WORKS*** + + +******* This file should be named 19610.txt or 19610.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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