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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/3461-h.zip b/3461-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..28a15db --- /dev/null +++ b/3461-h.zip diff --git a/3461-h/3461-h.htm b/3461-h/3461-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5084b21 --- /dev/null +++ b/3461-h/3461-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,7072 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Essays on Life, Art and Science</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.headingsummary { margin-left: 5%;} + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .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">Essays on Life, Art and Science, by Samuel Butler</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Essays on Life, Art and Science, by Samuel +Butler, Edited by R. A. Streatfeild + + +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: Essays on Life, Art and Science + + +Author: Samuel Butler + +Editor: R. A. Streatfeild + +Release Date: December 27, 2007 [eBook #3461] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS ON LIFE, ART AND SCIENCE*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed from the 1908 A. C. Fifield edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<h1>ESSAYS ON LIFE<br /> +ART AND SCIENCE</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +SAMUEL BUTLER</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">author +of</span> “<span class="smcap">erewhon</span>,” +“<span class="smcap">erewhon re-visited</span>,”<br +/> +“<span class="smcap">the way of all flesh</span>,” +<span class="smcap">etc.</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">edited +by</span><br /> +R. A. STREATFEILD</p> +<p style="text-align: center">LONDON<br /> +A. C. FIFIELD<br /> +1908</p> +<p style="text-align: center">Printed by <span +class="smcap">Ballantyne</span>, <span class="smcap">Hanson & +Co</span><br /> +At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh.</p> +<p>Contents:</p> +<p>Introduction<br /> +Quis Desiderio?<br /> +Ramblings in Cheapside<br /> +The Aunt, The Nieces, and the Dog<br /> +How to make the best of life<br /> +The Sanctuary of Montrigone<br /> +A Medieval Girl School<br /> +Art in the Valley of Saas<br /> +Thought and Language<br /> +The Deadlock in Darwinism</p> +<h2>INTRODUCTION</h2> +<p>It is hardly necessary to apologise for the miscellaneous +character of the following collection of essays. Samuel +Butler was a man of such unusual versatility, and his interests +were so many and so various that his literary remains were bound +to cover a wide field. Nevertheless it will be found that +several of the subjects to which he devoted much time and labour +are not represented in these pages. I have not thought it +necessary to reprint any of the numerous pamphlets and articles +which he wrote upon the Iliad and Odyssey, since these were all +merged in “The Authoress of the Odyssey,” which gives +his matured views upon everything relating to the Homeric +poems. For a similar reason I have not included an essay on +the evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, which he +printed in 1865 for private circulation, since he subsequently +made extensive use of it in “The Fair Haven.”</p> +<p>Two of the essays in this collection were originally delivered +as lectures; the remainder were published in <i>The Universal +Review</i> during 1888, 1889, and 1890.</p> +<p>I should perhaps explain why two other essays of his, which +also appeared in <i>The Universal Review</i>, have been +omitted.</p> +<p>The first of these, entitled “L’Affaire +Holbein-Rippel,” relates to a drawing of Holbein’s +“Danse des Paysans,” in the Basle Museum, which is +usually described as a copy, but which Butler believed to be the +work of Holbein himself. This essay requires to be +illustrated in so elaborate a manner that it was impossible to +include it in a book of this size.</p> +<p>The second essay, which is a sketch of the career of the +sculptor Tabachetti, was published as the first section of an +article entitled “A Sculptor and a Shrine,” of which +the second section is here given under the title, “The +Sanctuary of Montrigone.” The section devoted to the +sculptor represents all that Butler then knew about Tabachetti, +but since it was written various documents have come to light, +principally owing to the investigations of Cavaliere Francesco +Negri, of Casale Monferrato, which negative some of +Butler’s most cherished conclusions. Had Butler lived +he would either have rewritten his essay in accordance with +Cavaliere Negri’s discoveries, of which he fully recognised +the value, or incorporated them into the revised edition of +“Ex Voto,” which he intended to publish. As it +stands, the essay requires so much revision that I have decided +to omit it altogether, and to postpone giving English readers a +full account of Tabachetti’s career until a second edition +of “Ex Voto” is required. Meanwhile I have +given a brief summary of the main facts of Tabachetti’s +life in a note (page 154) to the essay on “Art in the +Valley of Saas.” Any one who wishes for further +details of the sculptor and his work will find them in Cavaliere +Negri’s pamphlet, “Il Santuario di Crea” +(Alessandria, 1902).</p> +<p>The three essays grouped together under the title of +“The Deadlock in Darwinism” may be regarded as a +postscript to Butler’s four books on evolution, viz., +“Life and Habit,” “Evolution, Old and +New,” “Unconscious Memory” and “Luck or +Cunning.” An occasion for the publication of these +essays seemed to be afforded by the appearance in 1889 of Mr. +Alfred Russel Wallace’s “Darwinism”; and +although nearly fourteen years have elapsed since they were +published in the <i>Universal Review</i>, I have no fear that +they will be found to be out of date. How far, indeed, the +problem embodied in the deadlock of which Butler speaks is from +solution was conclusively shown by the correspondence which +appeared in the <i>Times</i> in May 1903, occasioned by some +remarks made at University College by Lord Kelvin in moving a +vote of thanks to Professor Henslow after his lecture on +“Present Day Rationalism.” Lord Kelvin’s +claim for a recognition of the fact that in organic nature +scientific thought is compelled to accept the idea of some kind +of directive power, and his statement that biologists are coming +once more to a firm acceptance of a vital principle, drew from +several distinguished men of science retorts heated enough to +prove beyond a doubt that the gulf between the two main divisions +of evolutionists is as wide to-day as it was when Butler +wrote. It will be well, perhaps, for the benefit of readers +who have not followed the history of the theory of evolution +during its later developments, to state in a few words what these +two main divisions are. All evolutionists agree that the +differences between species are caused by the accumulation and +transmission of variations, but they do not agree as to the +causes to which the variations are due. The view held by +the older evolutionists, Buffon, Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck, who +have been followed by many modern thinkers, including Herbert +Spencer and Butler, is that the variations occur mainly as the +result of effort and design; the opposite view, which is that +advocated by Mr. Wallace in “Darwinism,” is that the +variations occur merely as the result of chance. The former +is sometimes called the theological view, because it recognises +the presence in organic nature of design, whether it be called +creative power, directive force, directivity, or vital principle; +the latter view, in which the existence of design is absolutely +negatived, is now usually described as Weismannism, from the name +of the writer who has been its principal advocate in recent +years.</p> +<p>In conclusion, I must thank my friend Mr. Henry Festing Jones +most warmly for the invaluable assistance which he has given me +in preparing these essays for publication, in correcting the +proofs, and in compiling the introduction and notes.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">R. A. STREATFEILD.</p> +<h2>QUIS DESIDERIO . . . ? <a name="citation1"></a><a +href="#footnote1" class="citation">[1]</a></h2> +<p>Like Mr. Wilkie Collins, I, too, have been asked to lay some +of my literary experiences before the readers of the <i>Universal +Review</i>. It occurred to me that the <i>Review</i> must +be indeed universal before it could open its pages to one so +obscure as myself; but, nothing daunted by the distinguished +company among which I was for the first time asked to move, I +resolved to do as I was told, and went to the British Museum to +see what books I had written. Having refreshed my memory by +a glance at the catalogue, I was about to try and diminish the +large and ever-increasing circle of my non-readers when I became +aware of a calamity that brought me to a standstill, and indeed +bids fair, so far as I can see at present, to put an end to my +literary existence altogether.</p> +<p>I should explain that I cannot write unless I have a sloping +desk, and the reading-room of the British Museum, where alone I +can compose freely, is unprovided with sloping desks. Like +every other organism, if I cannot get exactly what I want I make +shift with the next thing to it; true, there are no desks in the +reading-room, but, as I once heard a visitor from the country +say, “it contains a large number of very interesting +works.” I know it was not right, and hope the Museum +authorities will not be severe upon me if any of them reads this +confession; but I wanted a desk, and set myself to consider which +of the many very interesting works which a grateful nation places +at the disposal of its would-be authors was best suited for my +purpose.</p> +<p>For mere reading I suppose one book is pretty much as good as +another; but the choice of a desk-book is a more serious +matter. It must be neither too thick nor too thin; it must +be large enough to make a substantial support; it must be +strongly bound so as not to yield or give; it must not be too +troublesome to carry backwards and forwards; and it must live on +shelf C, D, or E, so that there need be no stooping or reaching +too high. These are the conditions which a really good book +must fulfil; simple, however, as they are, it is surprising how +few volumes comply with them satisfactorily; moreover, being +perhaps too sensitively conscientious, I allowed another +consideration to influence me, and was sincerely anxious not to +take a book which would be in constant use for reference by +readers, more especially as, if I did this, I might find myself +disturbed by the officials.</p> +<p>For weeks I made experiments upon sundry poetical and +philosophical works, whose names I have forgotten, but could not +succeed in finding my ideal desk, until at length, more by luck +than cunning, I happened to light upon Frost’s “Lives +of Eminent Christians,” which I had no sooner tried than I +discovered it to be the very perfection and <i>ne plus ultra</i> +of everything that a book should be. It lived in Case No. +2008, and I accordingly took at once to sitting in Row B, where +for the last dozen years or so I have sat ever since.</p> +<p>The first thing I have done whenever I went to the Museum has +been to take down Frost’s “Lives of Eminent +Christians” and carry it to my seat. It is not the +custom of modern writers to refer to the works to which they are +most deeply indebted, and I have never, that I remember, +mentioned it by name before; but it is to this book alone that I +have looked for support during many years of literary labour, and +it is round this to me invaluable volume that all my own have +page by page grown up. There is none in the Museum to which +I have been under anything like such constant obligation, none +which I can so ill spare, and none which I would choose so +readily if I were allowed to select one single volume and keep it +for my own.</p> +<p>On finding myself asked for a contribution to the <i>Universal +Review</i>, I went, as I have explained, to the Museum, and +presently repaired to bookcase No. 2008 to get my favourite +volume. Alas! it was in the room no longer. It was +not in use, for its place was filled up already; besides, no one +ever used it but myself. Whether the ghost of the late Mr. +Frost has been so eminently unchristian as to interfere, or +whether the authorities have removed the book in ignorance of the +steady demand which there has been for it on the part of at least +one reader, are points I cannot determine. All I know is +that the book is gone, and I feel as Wordsworth is generally +supposed to have felt when he became aware that Lucy was in her +grave, and exclaimed so emphatically that this would make a +considerable difference to him, or words to that effect.</p> +<p>Now I think of it, Frost’s “Lives of Eminent +Christians” was very like Lucy. The one resided at +Dovedale in Derbyshire, the other in Great Russell Street, +Bloomsbury. I admit that I do not see the resemblance here +at this moment, but if I try to develop my perception I shall +doubtless ere long find a marvellously striking one. In +other respects, however, than mere local habitat the likeness is +obvious. Lucy was not particularly attractive either inside +or out—no more was Frost’s “Lives of Eminent +Christians”; there were few to praise her, and of those few +still fewer could bring themselves to like her; indeed, +Wordsworth himself seems to have been the only person who thought +much about her one way or the other. In like manner, I +believe I was the only reader who thought much one way or the +other about Frost’s “Lives of Eminent +Christians,” but this in itself was one of the attractions +of the book; and as for the grief we respectively felt and feel, +I believe my own to be as deep as Wordsworth’s, if not more +so.</p> +<p>I said above, “as Wordsworth is generally supposed to +have felt”; for any one imbued with the spirit of modern +science will read Wordsworth’s poem with different eyes +from those of a mere literary critic. He will note that +Wordsworth is most careful not to explain the nature of the +difference which the death of Lucy will occasion to him. He +tells us that there will be a difference; but there the matter +ends. The superficial reader takes it that he was very +sorry she was dead; it is, of course, possible that he may have +actually been so, but he has not said this. On the +contrary, he has hinted plainly that she was ugly, and generally +disliked; she was only like a violet when she was half-hidden +from the view, and only fair as a star when there were so few +stars out that it was practically impossible to make an invidious +comparison. If there were as many as even two stars the +likeness was felt to be at an end. If Wordsworth had +imprudently promised to marry this young person during a time +when he had been unusually long in keeping to good resolutions, +and had afterwards seen some one whom he liked better, then +Lucy’s death would undoubtedly have made a considerable +difference to him, and this is all that he has ever said that it +would do. What right have we to put glosses upon the +masterly reticence of a poet, and credit him with feelings +possibly the very reverse of those he actually entertained?</p> +<p>Sometimes, indeed, I have been inclined to think that a +mystery is being hinted at more dark than any critic has +suspected. I do not happen to possess a copy of the poem, +but the writer, if I am not mistaken, says that “few could +know when Lucy ceased to be.” “Ceased to +be” is a suspiciously euphemistic expression, and the words +“few could know” are not applicable to the ordinary +peaceful death of a domestic servant such as Lucy appears to have +been. No matter how obscure the deceased, any number of +people commonly can know the day and hour of his or her demise, +whereas in this case we are expressly told it would be impossible +for them to do so. Wordsworth was nothing if not accurate, +and would not have said that few could know, but that few +actually did know, unless he was aware of circumstances that +precluded all but those implicated in the crime of her death from +knowing the precise moment of its occurrence. If Lucy was +the kind of person not obscurely pourtrayed in the poem; if +Wordsworth had murdered her, either by cutting her throat or +smothering her, in concert, perhaps, with his friends Southey and +Coleridge; and if he had thus found himself released from an +engagement which had become irksome to him, or possibly from the +threat of an action for breach of promise, then there is not a +syllable in the poem with which he crowns his crime that is not +alive with meaning. On any other supposition to the general +reader it is unintelligible.</p> +<p>We cannot be too guarded in the interpretations we put upon +the words of great poets. Take the young lady who never +loved the dear gazelle—and I don’t believe she did; +we are apt to think that Moore intended us to see in this +creation of his fancy a sweet, amiable, but most unfortunate +young woman, whereas all he has told us about her points to an +exactly opposite conclusion. In reality, he wished us to +see a young lady who had been an habitual complainer from her +earliest childhood; whose plants had always died as soon as she +bought them, while those belonging to her neighbours had +flourished. The inference is obvious, nor can we reasonably +doubt that Moore intended us to draw it; if her plants were the +very first to fade away, she was evidently the very first to +neglect or otherwise maltreat them. She did not give them +enough water, or left the door of her fern-ease open when she was +cooking her dinner at the gas stove, or kept them too near the +paraffin oil, or other like folly; and as for her temper, see +what the gazelles did; as long as they did not know her +“well,” they could just manage to exist, but when +they got to understand her real character, one after another felt +that death was the only course open to it, and accordingly died +rather than live with such a mistress. True, the young lady +herself said the gazelles loved her; but disagreeable people are +apt to think themselves amiable, and in view of the course +invariably taken by the gazelles themselves any one accustomed to +weigh evidence will hold that she was probably mistaken.</p> +<p>I must, however, return to Frost’s “Lives of +Eminent Christians.” I will leave none of the +ambiguity about my words in which Moore and Wordsworth seem to +have delighted. I am very sorry the book is gone, and know +not where to turn for its successor. Till I have found a +substitute I can write no more, and I do not know how to find +even a tolerable one. I should try a volume of +Migne’s “Complete Course of Patrology,” but I +do not like books in more than one volume, for the volumes vary +in thickness, and one never can remember which one took; the four +volumes, however, of Bede in Giles’s “Anglican +Fathers” are not open to this objection, and I have +reserved them for favourable consideration. Mather’s +“Magnalia” might do, but the binding does not please +me; Cureton’s “Corpus Ignatianum” might also do +if it were not too thin. I do not like taking +Norton’s “Genuineness of the Gospels,” as it is +just possible some one may be wanting to know whether the Gospels +are genuine or not, and be unable to find out because I have got +Mr. Norton’s book. Baxter’s “Church +History of England,” Lingard’s “Anglo-Saxon +Church,” and Cardwell’s “Documentary +Annals,” though none of them as good as Frost, are works of +considerable merit; but on the whole I think Arvine’s +“Cyclopedia of Moral and Religious Anecdote” is +perhaps the one book in the room which comes within measurable +distance of Frost. I should probably try this book first, +but it has a fatal objection in its too seductive title. +“I am not curious,” as Miss Lottie Venne says in one +of her parts, “but I like to know,” and I might be +tempted to pervert the book from its natural uses and open it, so +as to find out what kind of a thing a moral and religious +anecdote is. I know, of course, that there are a great many +anecdotes in the Bible, but no one thinks of calling them either +moral or religious, though some of them certainly seem as if they +might fairly find a place in Mr. Arvine’s work. There +are some things, however, which it is better not to know, and +take it all round I do not think I should be wise in putting +myself in the way of temptation, and adopting Arvine as the +successor to my beloved and lamented Frost.</p> +<p>Some successor I must find, or I must give up writing +altogether, and this I should be sorry to do. I have only +as yet written about a third, or from that—counting works +written but not published—to a half, of the books which I +have set myself to write. It would not so much matter if +old age was not staring me in the face. Dr. Parr said it +was “a beastly shame for an old man not to have laid down a +good cellar of port in his youth”; I, like the greater +number, I suppose, of those who write books at all, write in +order that I may have something to read in my old age when I can +write no longer. I know what I shall like better than any +one can tell me, and write accordingly; if my career is nipped in +the bud, as seems only too likely, I really do not know where +else I can turn for present agreeable occupation, nor yet how to +make suitable provision for my later years. Other writers +can, of course, make excellent provision for their own old ages, +but they cannot do so for mine, any more than I should succeed if +I were to try to cater for theirs. It is one of those cases +in which no man can make agreement for his brother.</p> +<p>I have no heart for continuing this article, and if I had, I +have nothing of interest to say. No one’s literary +career can have been smoother or more unchequered than +mine. I have published all my books at my own expense, and +paid for them in due course. What can be conceivably more +unromantic? For some years I had a little literary +grievance against the authorities of the British Museum because +they would insist on saying in their catalogue that I had +published three sermons on Infidelity in the year 1820. I +thought I had not, and got them out to see. They were +rather funny, but they were not mine. Now, however, this +grievance has been removed. I had another little quarrel +with them because they would describe me as “of St. +John’s College, Cambridge,” an establishment for +which I have the most profound veneration, but with which I have +not had the honour to be connected for some quarter of a +century. At last they said they would change this +description if I would only tell them what I was, for, though +they had done their best to find out, they had themselves +failed. I replied with modest pride that I was a Bachelor +of Arts. I keep all my other letters inside my name, not +outside. They mused and said it was unfortunate that I was +not a Master of Arts. Could I not get myself made a +Master? I said I understood that a Mastership was an +article the University could not do under about five pounds, and +that I was not disposed to go sixpence higher than three +ten. They again said it was a pity, for it would be very +inconvenient to them if I did not keep to something between a +bishop and a poet. I might be anything I liked in reason, +provided I showed proper respect for the alphabet; but they had +got me between “Samuel Butler, bishop,” and +“Samuel Butler, poet.” It would be very +troublesome to shift me, and bachelor came before bishop. +This was reasonable, so I replied that, under those +circumstances, if they pleased, I thought I would like to be a +philosophical writer. They embraced the solution, and, no +matter what I write now, I must remain a philosophical writer as +long as I live, for the alphabet will hardly be altered in my +time, and I must be something between “Bis” and +“Poe.” If I could get a volume of my excellent +namesake’s “Hudibras” out of the list of my +works, I should be robbed of my last shred of literary grievance, +so I say nothing about this, but keep it secret, lest some worse +thing should happen to me. Besides, I have a great respect +for my namesake, and always say that if “Erewhon” had +been a racehorse it would have been got by “Hudibras” +out of “Analogy.” Some one said this to me many +years ago, and I felt so much flattered that I have been +repeating the remark as my own ever since.</p> +<p>But how small are these grievances as compared with those +endured without a murmur by hundreds of writers far more +deserving than myself. When I see the scores and hundreds +of workers in the reading-room who have done so much more than I +have, but whose work is absolutely fruitless to themselves, and +when I think of the prompt recognition obtained by my own work, I +ask myself what I have done to be thus rewarded. On the +other hand, the feeling that I have succeeded far beyond my +deserts hitherto, makes it all the harder for me to acquiesce +without complaint in the extinction of a career which I honestly +believe to be a promising one; and once more I repeat that, +unless the Museum authorities give me back my Frost, or put a +locked clasp on Arvine, my career must be extinguished. +Give me back Frost, and, if life and health are spared, I will +write another dozen of volumes yet before I hang up my +fiddle—if so serious a confusion of metaphors may be +pardoned. I know from long experience how kind and +considerate both the late and present superintendents of the +reading-room were and are, but I doubt how far either of them +would be disposed to help me on this occasion; continue, however, +to rob me of my Frost, and, whatever else I may do, I will write +no more books.</p> +<p><i>Note by Dr. Garnett</i>, <i>British Museum</i>.—The +frost has broken up. Mr. Butler is restored to +literature. Mr. Mudie may make himself easy. England +will still boast a humourist; and the late Mr. Darwin (to whose +posthumous machinations the removal of the book was owing) will +continue to be confounded.—<span class="smcap">R. +Gannett</span>.</p> +<h2>RAMBLINGS IN CHEAPSIDE <a name="citation2"></a><a +href="#footnote2" class="citation">[2]</a></h2> +<p>Walking the other day in Cheapside I saw some turtles in Mr. +Sweeting’s window, and was tempted to stay and look at +them. As I did so I was struck not more by the defences +with which they were hedged about, than by the fatuousness of +trying to hedge that in at all which, if hedged thoroughly, must +die of its own defencefulness. The holes for the head and +feet through which the turtle leaks out, as it were, on to the +exterior world, and through which it again absorbs the exterior +world into itself—“catching on” through them to +things that are thus both turtle and not turtle at one and the +same time—these holes stultify the armour, and show it to +have been designed by a creature with more of faithfulness to a +fixed idea, and hence one-sidedness, than of that quick sense of +relative importances and their changes, which is the main factor +of good living.</p> +<p>The turtle obviously had no sense of proportion; it differed +so widely from myself that I could not comprehend it; and as this +word occurred to me, it occurred also that until my body +comprehended its body in a physical material sense, neither would +my mind be able to comprehend its mind with any +thoroughness. For unity of mind can only be consummated by +unity of body; everything, therefore, must be in some respects +both knave and fool to all that which has not eaten it, or by +which it has not been eaten. As long as the turtle was in +the window and I in the street outside, there was no chance of +our comprehending one another.</p> +<p>Nevertheless I knew that I could get it to agree with me if I +could so effectually button-hole and fasten on to it as to eat +it. Most men have an easy method with turtle soup, and I +had no misgiving but that if I could bring my first premise to +bear I should prove the better reasoner. My difficulty lay +in this initial process, for I had not with me the argument that +would alone compel Mr. Sweeting think that I ought to be allowed +to convert the turtles—I mean I had no money in my +pocket. No missionary enterprise can be carried on without +any money at all, but even so small a sum as half-a-crown would, +I suppose, have enabled me to bring the turtle partly round, and +with many half-crowns I could in time no doubt convert the lot, +for the turtle needs must go where the money drives. If, as +is alleged, the world stands on a turtle, the turtle stands on +money. No money no turtle. As for money, that stands +on opinion, credit, trust, faith—things that, though highly +material in connection with money, are still of immaterial +essence.</p> +<p>The steps are perfectly plain. The men who caught the +turtles brought a fairly strong and definite opinion to bear upon +them, that passed into action, and later on into money. +They thought the turtles would come that way, and verified their +opinion; on this, will and action were generated, with the result +that the men turned the turtles on their backs and carried them +off. Mr. Sweeting touched these men with money, which is +the outward and visible sign of verified opinion. The +customer touches Mr. Sweeting with money, Mr. Sweeting touches +the waiter and the cook with money. They touch the turtle +with skill and verified opinion. Finally, the customer +applies the clinching argument that brushes all sophisms aside, +and bids the turtle stand protoplasm to protoplasm with himself, +to know even as it is known.</p> +<p>But it must be all touch, touch, touch; skill, opinion, power, +and money, passing in and out with one another in any order we +like, but still link to link and touch to touch. If there +is failure anywhere in respect of opinion, skill, power, or +money, either as regards quantity or quality, the chain can be no +stronger than its weakest link, and the turtle and the clinching +argument will fly asunder. Of course, if there is an +initial failure in connection, through defect in any member of +the chain, or of connection between the links, it will no more be +attempted to bring the turtle and the clinching argument +together, than it will to chain up a dog with two pieces of +broken chain that are disconnected. The contact throughout +must be conceived as absolute; and yet perfect contact is +inconceivable by us, for on becoming perfect it ceases to be +contact, and becomes essential, once for all inseverable, +identity. The most absolute contact short of this is still +contact by courtesy only. So here, as everywhere else, +Eurydice glides off as we are about to grasp her. We can +see nothing face to face; our utmost seeing is but a fumbling of +blind finger-ends in an overcrowded pocket.</p> +<p>Presently my own blind finger-ends fished up the conclusion, +that as I had neither time nor money to spend on perfecting the +chain that would put me in full spiritual contact with Mr. +Sweeting’s turtles, I had better leave them to complete +their education at some one else’s expense rather than +mine, so I walked on towards the Bank. As I did so it +struck me how continually we are met by this melting of one +existence into another. The limits of the body seem well +defined enough as definitions go, but definitions seldom go +far. What, for example, can seem more distinct from a man +than his banker or his solicitor? Yet these are commonly so +much parts of him that he can no more cut them off and grow new +ones, than he can grow new legs or arms; neither must he wound +his solicitor; a wound in the solicitor is a very serious +thing. As for his bank—failure of his bank’s +action may be as fatal to a man as failure of his heart. I +have said nothing about the medical or spiritual adviser, but +most men grow into the society that surrounds them by the help of +these four main tap-roots, and not only into the world of +humanity, but into the universe at large. We can, indeed, +grow butchers, bakers, and greengrocers, almost <i>ad +libitum</i>, but these are low developments, and correspond to +skin, hair, or finger-nails. Those of us again who are not +highly enough organised to have grown a solicitor or banker can +generally repair the loss of whatever social organisation they +may possess as freely as lizards are said to grow new tails; but +this with the higher social, as well as organic, developments is +only possible to a very limited extent.</p> +<p>The doctrine of metempsychosis, or transmigration of +souls—a doctrine to which the foregoing considerations are +for the most part easy corollaries—crops up no matter in +what direction we allow our thoughts to wander. And we meet +instances of transmigration of body as well as of soul. I +do not mean that both body and soul have transmigrated together, +far from it; but that, as we can often recognise a transmigrated +mind in an alien body, so we not less often see a body that is +clearly only a transmigration, linked on to some one else’s +new and alien soul. We meet people every day whose bodies +are evidently those of men and women long dead, but whose +appearance we know through their portraits. We see them +going about in omnibuses, railway carriages, and in all public +places. The cards have been shuffled, and they have drawn +fresh lots in life and nationalities, but any one fairly well up +in mediæval and last century portraiture knows them at a +glance.</p> +<p>Going down once towards Italy I saw a young man in the train +whom I recognised, only he seemed to have got younger. He +was with a friend, and his face was in continual play, but for +some little time I puzzled in vain to recollect where it was that +I had seen him before. All of a sudden I remembered he was +King Francis I. of France. I had hitherto thought the face +of this king impossible, but when I saw it in play I understood +it. His great contemporary Henry VIII. keeps a restaurant +in Oxford Street. Falstaff drove one of the St. Gothard +diligences for many years, and only retired when the railway was +opened. Titian once made me a pair of boots at Vicenza, and +not very good ones. At Modena I had my hair cut by a young +man whom I perceived to be Raffaelle. The model who sat to +him for his celebrated Madonnas is first lady in a confectionery +establishment at Montreal. She has a little motherly pimple +on the left side of her nose that is misleading at first, but on +examination she is readily recognised; probably Raffaelle’s +model had the pimple too, but Raffaelle left it out—as he +would.</p> +<p>Handel, of course, is Madame Patey. Give Madame Patey +Handel’s wig and clothes, and there would be no telling her +from Handel. It is not only that the features and the shape +of the head are the same, but there is a certain imperiousness of +expression and attitude about Handel which he hardly attempts to +conceal in Madame Patey. It is a curious coincidence that +he should continue to be such an incomparable renderer of his own +music. Pope Julius II. was the late Mr. Darwin. +Rameses II. is a blind woman now, and stands in Holborn, holding +a tin mug. I never could understand why I always found +myself humming “They oppressed them with burthens” +when I passed her, till one day I was looking in Mr. +Spooner’s window in the Strand, and saw a photograph of +Rameses II. Mary Queen of Scots wears surgical boots and is +subject to fits, near the Horse Shoe in Tottenham Court Road.</p> +<p>Michael Angelo is a commissionaire; I saw him on board the +<i>Glen Rosa</i>, which used to run every day from London to +Clacton-on-Sea and back. It gave me quite a turn when I saw +him coming down the stairs from the upper deck, with his bronzed +face, flattened nose, and with the familiar bar upon his +forehead. I never liked Michael Angelo, and never shall, +but I am afraid of him, and was near trying to hide when I saw +him coming towards me. He had not got his +commissionaire’s uniform on, and I did not know he was one +till I met him a month or so later in the Strand. When we +got to Blackwall the music struck up and people began to +dance. I never saw a man dance so much in my life. He +did not miss a dance all the way to Clacton, nor all the way back +again, and when not dancing he was flirting and cracking +jokes. I could hardly believe my eyes when I reflected that +this man had painted the famous “Last Judgment,” and +had made all those statues.</p> +<p>Dante is, or was a year or two ago, a waiter at Brissago on +the Lago Maggiore, only he is better-tempered-looking, and has a +more intellectual expression. He gave me his ideas upon +beauty: “Tutto ch’ è vero è +bello,” he exclaimed, with all his old +self-confidence. I am not afraid of Dante. I know +people by their friends, and he went about with Virgil, so I said +with some severity, “No, Dante, il naso della Signora +Robinson è vero, ma non è bello”; and he +admitted I was right. Beatrice’s name is Towler; she +is waitress at a small inn in German Switzerland. I used to +sit at my window and hear people call “Towler, Towler, +Towler,” fifty times in a forenoon. She was the exact +antithesis to Abra; Abra, if I remember, used to come before they +called her name, but no matter how often they called Towler, +every one came before she did. I suppose they spelt her +name Taula, but to me it sounded Towler; I never, however, met +any one else with this name. She was a sweet, artless +little hussy, who made me play the piano to her, and she said it +was lovely. Of course I only played my own compositions; so +I believed her, and it all went off very nicely. I thought +it might save trouble if I did not tell her who she really was, +so I said nothing about it.</p> +<p>I met Socrates once. He was my muleteer on an excursion +which I will not name, for fear it should identify the man. +The moment I saw my guide I knew he was somebody, but for the +life of me I could not remember who. All of a sudden it +flashed across me that he was Socrates. He talked enough +for six, but it was all in <i>dialetto</i>, so I could not +understand him, nor, when I had discovered who he was, did I much +try to do so. He was a good creature, a trifle given to +stealing fruit and vegetables, but an amiable man enough. +He had had a long day with his mule and me, and he only asked me +five francs. I gave him ten, for I pitied his poor old +patched boots, and there was a meekness about him that touched +me. “And now, Socrates,” said I at parting, +“we go on our several ways, you to steal tomatoes, I to +filch ideas from other people; for the rest—which of these +two roads will be the better going, our father which is in heaven +knows, but we know not.”</p> +<p>I have never seen Mendelssohn, but there is a fresco of him on +the terrace, or open-air dining-room, of an inn at +Chiavenna. He is not called Mendelssohn, but I knew him by +his legs. He is in the costume of a dandy of some +five-and-forty years ago, is smoking a cigar, and appears to be +making an offer of marriage to his cook. Beethoven both my +friend Mr. H. Festing Jones and I have had the good fortune to +meet; he is an engineer now, and does not know one note from +another; he has quite lost his deafness, is married, and is, of +course, a little squat man with the same refractory hair that he +always had. It was very interesting to watch him, and Jones +remarked that before the end of dinner he had become positively +posthumous. One morning I was told the Beethovens were +going away, and before long I met their two heavy boxes being +carried down the stairs. The boxes were so squab and like +their owners, that I half thought for a moment that they were +inside, and should hardly have been surprised to see them spring +up like a couple of Jacks-in-the-box. “Sono +indentro?” said I, with a frown of wonder, pointing to the +boxes. The porters knew what I meant, and laughed. +But there is no end to the list of people whom I have been able +to recognise, and before I had got through it myself, I found I +had walked some distance, and had involuntarily paused in front +of a second-hand bookstall.</p> +<p>I do not like books. I believe I have the smallest +library of any literary man in London, and I have no wish to +increase it. I keep my books at the British Museum and at +Mudie’s, and it makes me very angry if any one gives me one +for my private library. I once heard two ladies disputing +in a railway carriage as to whether one of them had or had not +been wasting money. “I spent it in books,” said +the accused, “and it’s not wasting money to buy +books.” “Indeed, my dear, I think it is,” +was the rejoinder, and in practice I agree with it. +Webster’s Dictionary, Whitaker’s Almanack, and +Bradshaw’s Railway Guide should be sufficient for any +ordinary library; it will be time enough to go beyond these when +the mass of useful and entertaining matter which they provide has +been mastered. Nevertheless, I admit that sometimes, if not +particularly busy, I stop at a second-hand bookstall and turn +over a book or two from mere force of habit.</p> +<p>I know not what made me pick up a copy of +Æschylus—of course in an English version—or +rather I know not what made Æschylus take up with me, for +he took me rather than I him; but no sooner had he got me than he +began puzzling me, as he has done any time this forty years, to +know wherein his transcendent merit can be supposed to lie. +To me he is, like the greater number of classics in all ages and +countries, a literary Struldbrug, rather than a true ambrosia-fed +immortal. There are true immortals, but they are few and +far between; most classics are as great impostors dead as they +were when living, and while posing as gods are, five-sevenths of +them, only Struldbrugs. It comforts me to remember that +Aristophanes liked Æschylus no better than I do. +True, he praises him by comparison with Sophocles and Euripides, +but he only does so that he may run down these last more +effectively. Aristophanes is a safe man to follow, nor do I +see why it should not be as correct to laugh with him as to pull +a long face with the Greek Professors; but this is neither here +nor there, for no one really cares about Æschylus; the more +interesting question is how he contrived to make so many people +for so many years pretend to care about him.</p> +<p>Perhaps he married somebody’s daughter. If a man +would get hold of the public ear, he must pay, marry, or +fight. I have never understood that Æschylus was a +man of means, and the fighters do not write poetry, so I suppose +he must have married a theatrical manager’s daughter, and +got his plays brought out that way. The ear of any age or +country is like its land, air, and water; it seems limitless but +is really limited, and is already in the keeping of those who +naturally enough will have no squatting on such valuable +property. It is written and talked up to as closely as the +means of subsistence are bred up to by a teeming +population. There is not a square inch of it but is in +private hands, and he who would freehold any part of it must do +so by purchase, marriage, or fighting, in the usual way—and +fighting gives the longest, safest tenure. The public +itself has hardly more voice in the question who shall have its +ear, than the land has in choosing its owners. It is farmed +as those who own it think most profitable to themselves, and +small blame to them; nevertheless, it has a residuum of +mulishness which the land has not, and does sometimes dispossess +its tenants. It is in this residuum that those who fight +place their hope and trust.</p> +<p>Or perhaps Æschylus squared the leading critics of his +time. When one comes to think of it, he must have done so, +for how is it conceivable that such plays should have had such +runs if he had not? I met a lady one year in Switzerland +who had some parrots that always travelled with her and were the +idols of her life. These parrots would not let any one read +aloud in their presence, unless they heard their own names +introduced from time to time. If these were freely +interpolated into the text they would remain as still as stones, +for they thought the reading was about themselves. If it +was not about them it could not be allowed. The leaders of +literature are like these parrots; they do not look at what a man +writes, nor if they did would they understand it much better than +the parrots do; but they like the sound of their own names, and +if these are freely interpolated in a tone they take as friendly, +they may even give ear to an outsider. Otherwise they will +scream him off if they can.</p> +<p>I should not advise any one with ordinary independence of mind +to attempt the public ear unless he is confident that he can +out-lung and out-last his own generation; for if he has any +force, people will and ought to be on their guard against him, +inasmuch as there is no knowing where he may not take them. +Besides, they have staked their money on the wrong men so often +without suspecting it, that when there comes one whom they do +suspect it would be madness not to bet against him. True, +he may die before he has out-screamed his opponents, but that has +nothing to do with it. If his scream was well pitched it +will sound clearer when he is dead. We do not know what +death is. If we know so little about life which we have +experienced, how shall we know about death which we have +not—and in the nature of things never can? Every one, +as I said years ago in “Alps and Sanctuaries,” is an +immortal to himself, for he cannot know that he is dead until he +is dead, and when dead how can he know anything about +anything? All we know is, that even the humblest dead may +live long after all trace of the body has disappeared; we see +them doing it in the bodies and memories of those that come after +them; and not a few live so much longer and more effectually than +is desirable, that it has been necessary to get rid of them by +Act of Parliament. It is love that alone gives life, and +the truest life is that which we live not in ourselves but +vicariously in others, and with which we have no concern. +Our concern is so to order ourselves that we may be of the number +of them that enter into life—although we know it not.</p> +<p>Æschylus did so order himself; but his life is not of +that inspiriting kind that can be won through fighting the good +fight only—or being believed to have fought it. His +voice is the echo of a drone, drone-begotten and +drone-sustained. It is not a tone that a man must utter or +die—nay, even though he die; and likely enough half the +allusions and hard passages in Æschylus of which we can +make neither head nor tail are in reality only puffs of some of +the literary leaders of his time.</p> +<p>The lady above referred to told me more about her +parrots. She was like a Nasmyth’s hammer going +slow—very gentle, but irresistible. She always read +the newspaper to them. What was the use of having a +newspaper if one did not read it to one’s parrots?</p> +<p>“And have you divined,” I asked, “to which +side they incline in politics?”</p> +<p>“They do not like Mr. Gladstone,” was the somewhat +freezing answer; “this is the only point on which we +disagree, for I adore him. Don’t ask more about this, +it is a great grief to me. I tell them everything,” +she continued, “and hide no secret from them.”</p> +<p>“But can any parrot be trusted to keep a +secret?”</p> +<p>“Mine can.”</p> +<p>“And on Sundays do you give them the same course of +reading as on a week-day, or do you make a difference?”</p> +<p>“On Sundays I always read them a genealogical chapter +from the Old or New Testament, for I can thus introduce their +names without profanity. I always keep tea by me in case +they should ask for it in the night, and I have an Etna to warm +it for them; they take milk and sugar. The old white-headed +clergyman came to see them last night; it was very painful, for +Jocko reminded him so strongly of his late . . . ”</p> +<p>I thought she was going to say “wife,” but it +proved to have been only of a parrot that he had once known and +loved.</p> +<p>One evening she was in difficulties about the quarantine, +which was enforced that year on the Italian frontier. The +local doctor had gone down that morning to see the Italian doctor +and arrange some details. “Then, perhaps, my +dear,” she said to her husband, “he is the +quarantine.” “No, my love,” replied her +husband. “The quarantine is not a person, it is a +place where they put people”; but she would not be +comforted, and suspected the quarantine as an enemy that might at +any moment pounce out upon her and her parrots. So a lady +told me once that she had been in like trouble about the +anthem. She read in her prayer-book that in choirs and +places where they sing “here followeth the anthem,” +yet the person with this most mysteriously sounding name never +did follow. They had a choir, and no one could say the +church was not a place where they sang, for they did +sing—both chants and hymns. Why, then, this +persistent slackness on the part of the anthem, who at this +juncture should follow her papa, the rector, into the +reading-desk? No doubt he would come some day, and then +what would he be like? Fair or dark? Tall or +short? Would he be bald and wear spectacles like papa, or +would he be young and good-looking? Anyhow, there was +something wrong, for it was announced that he would follow, and +he never did follow; therefore there was no knowing what he might +not do next.</p> +<p>I heard of the parrots a year or two later as giving lessons +in Italian to an English maid. I do not know what their +terms were. Alas! since then both they and their mistress +have joined the majority. When the poor lady felt her end +was near she desired (and the responsibility for this must rest +with her, not me) that the birds might be destroyed, as fearing +that they might come to be neglected, and knowing that they could +never be loved again as she had loved them. On being told +that all was over, she said, “Thank you,” and +immediately expired.</p> +<p>Reflecting in such random fashion, and strolling with no +greater method, I worked my way back through Cheapside and found +myself once more in front of Sweeting’s window. Again +the turtles attracted me. They were alive, and so far at +any rate they agreed with me. Nay, they had eyes, mouths, +legs, if not arms, and feet, so there was much in which we were +both of a mind, but surely they must be mistaken in arming +themselves so very heavily. Any creature on getting what +the turtle aimed at would overreach itself and be landed not in +safety but annihilation. It should have no communion with +the outside world at all, for death could creep in wherever the +creature could creep out; and it must creep out somewhere if it +was to hook on to outside things. What death can be more +absolute than such absolute isolation? Perfect death, +indeed, if it were attainable (which it is not), is as near +perfect security as we can reach, but it is not the kind of +security aimed at by any animal that is at the pains of defending +itself. For such want to have things both ways, desiring +the livingness of life without its perils, and the safety of +death without its deadness, and some of us do actually get this +for a considerable time, but we do not get it by plating +ourselves with armour as the turtle does. We tried this in +the Middle Ages, and no longer mock ourselves with the weight of +armour that our forefathers carried in battle. Indeed the +more deadly the weapons of attack become the more we go into the +fight slug-wise.</p> +<p>Slugs have ridden their contempt for defensive armour as much +to death as the turtles their pursuit of it. They have +hardly more than skin enough to hold themselves together; they +court death every time they cross the road. Yet death comes +not to them more than to the turtle, whose defences are so great +that there is little left inside to be defended. Moreover, +the slugs fare best in the long run, for turtles are dying out, +while slugs are not, and there must be millions of slugs all the +world over for every single turtle. Of the two vanities, +therefore, that of the slug seems most substantial.</p> +<p>In either case the creature thinks itself safe, but is sure to +be found out sooner or later; nor is it easy to explain this +mockery save by reflecting that everything must have its meat in +due season, and that meat can only be found for such a multitude +of mouths by giving everything as meat in due season to something +else. This is like the Kilkenny cats, or robbing Peter to +pay Paul; but it is the way of the world, and as every animal +must contribute in kind to the picnic of the universe, one does +not see what better arrangement could be made than the providing +each race with a hereditary fallacy, which shall in the end get +it into a scrape, but which shall generally stand the wear and +tear of life for some time. “<i>Do ut des</i>” +is the writing on all flesh to him that eats it; and no creature +is dearer to itself than it is to some other that would devour +it.</p> +<p>Nor is there any statement or proposition more invulnerable +than living forms are. Propositions prey upon and are +grounded upon one another just like living forms. They +support one another as plants and animals do; they are based +ultimately on credit, or faith, rather than the cash of +irrefragable conviction. The whole universe is carried on +on the credit system, and if the mutual confidence on which it is +based were to collapse, it must itself collapse +immediately. Just or unjust, it lives by faith; it is based +on vague and impalpable opinion that by some inscrutable process +passes into will and action, and is made manifest in matter and +in flesh: it is meteoric—suspended in midair; it is the +baseless fabric of a vision so vast, so vivid, and so gorgeous +that no base can seem more broad than such stupendous +baselessness, and yet any man can bring it about his ears by +being over-curious; when faith fails a system based on faith +fails also.</p> +<p>Whether the universe is really a paying concern, or whether it +is an inflated bubble that must burst sooner or later, this is +another matter. If people were to demand cash payment in +irrefragable certainty for everything that they have taken +hitherto as paper money on the credit of the bank of public +opinion, is there money enough behind it all to stand so great a +drain even on so great a reserve? Probably there is not, +but happily there can be no such panic, for even though the +cultured classes may do so, the uncultured are too dull to have +brains enough to commit such stupendous folly. It takes a +long course of academic training to educate a man up to the +standard which he must reach before he can entertain such +questions seriously, and by a merciful dispensation of +Providence, university training is almost as costly as it is +unprofitable. The majority will thus be always unable to +afford it, and will base their opinions on mother wit and current +opinion rather than on demonstration.</p> +<p>So I turned my steps homewards; I saw a good many more things +on my way home, but I was told that I was not to see more this +time than I could get into twelve pages of the <i>Universal +Review</i>; I must therefore reserve any remark which I think +might perhaps entertain the reader for another occasion.</p> +<h2>THE AUNT, THE NIECES, AND THE DOG <a name="citation3"></a><a +href="#footnote3" class="citation">[3]</a></h2> +<p>When a thing is old, broken, and useless we throw it on the +dust-heap, but when it is sufficiently old, sufficiently broken, +and sufficiently useless we give money for it, put it into a +museum, and read papers over it which people come long distances +to hear. By-and-by, when the whirligig of time has brought +on another revenge, the museum itself becomes a dust-heap, and +remains so till after long ages it is re-discovered, and valued +as belonging to a neo-rubbish age—containing, perhaps, +traces of a still older paleo-rubbish civilisation. So when +people are old, indigent, and in all respects incapable, we hold +them in greater and greater contempt as their poverty and +impotence increase, till they reach the pitch when they are +actually at the point to die, whereon they become sublime. +Then we place every resource our hospitals can command at their +disposal, and show no stint in our consideration for them.</p> +<p>It is the same with all our interests. We care most +about extremes of importance and of unimportance; but extremes of +importance are tainted with fear, and a very imperfect fear +casteth out love. Extremes of unimportance cannot hurt us, +therefore we are well disposed towards them; the means may come +to do so, therefore we do not love them. Hence we pick a +fly out of a milk-jug and watch with pleasure over its recovery, +for we are confident that under no conceivable circumstances will +it want to borrow money from us; but we feel less sure about a +mouse, so we show it no quarter. The compilers of our +almanacs well know this tendency of our natures, so they tell us, +not when Noah went into the ark, nor when the temple of Jerusalem +was dedicated, but that Lindley Murray, grammarian, died January +16, 1826. This is not because they could not find so many +as three hundred and sixty-five events of considerable interest +since the creation of the world, but because they well know we +would rather hear of something less interesting. We care +most about what concerns us either very closely, or so little +that practically we have nothing whatever to do with it.</p> +<p>I once asked a young Italian, who professed to have a +considerable knowledge of English literature, which of all our +poems pleased him best. He replied without a moment’s +hesitation:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the +fiddle,<br /> + The cow jumped over the moon;<br /> +The little dog laughed to see such sport,<br /> + And the dish ran away with the spoon.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>He said this was better than anything in Italian. They +had Dante and Tasso, and ever so many more great poets, but they +had nothing comparable to “Hey diddle diddle,” nor +had he been able to conceive how any one could have written +it. Did I know the author’s name, and had we given +him a statue? On this I told him of the young lady of +Harrow who would go to church in a barrow, and plied him with +whatever rhyming nonsense I could call to mind, but it was no +use; all of these things had an element of reality that robbed +them of half their charm, whereas “Hey diddle diddle” +had nothing in it that could conceivably concern him.</p> +<p>So again it is with the things that gall us most. What +is it that rises up against us at odd times and smites us in the +face again and again for years after it has happened? That +we spent all the best years of our life in learning what we have +found to be a swindle, and to have been known to be a swindle by +those who took money for misleading us? That those on whom +we most leaned most betrayed us? That we have only come to +feel our strength when there is little strength left of any kind +to feel? These things will hardly much disturb a man of +ordinary good temper. But that he should have said this or +that little unkind and wanton saying; that he should have gone +away from this or that hotel and given a shilling too little to +the waiter; that his clothes were shabby at such or such a +garden-party—these things gall us as a corn will sometimes +do, though the loss of a limb way not be seriously felt.</p> +<p>I have been reminded lately of these considerations with more +than common force by reading the very voluminous correspondence +left by my grandfather, Dr. Butler, of Shrewsbury, whose memoirs +I am engaged in writing. I have found a large number of +interesting letters on subjects of serious import, but must +confess that it is to the hardly less numerous lighter letters +that I have been most attracted, nor do I feel sure that my +eminent namesake did not share my predilection. Among other +letters in my possession I have one bundle that has been kept +apart, and has evidently no connection with Dr. Butler’s +own life. I cannot use these letters, therefore, for my +book, but over and above the charm of their inspired spelling, I +find them of such an extremely trivial nature that I incline to +hope the reader may derive as much amusement from them as I have +done myself, and venture to give them the publicity here which I +must refuse them in my book. The dates and signatures have, +with the exception of Mrs. Newton’s, been carefully erased, +but I have collected that they were written by the two servants +of a single lady who resided at no great distance from London, to +two nieces of the said lady who lived in London itself. The +aunt never writes, but always gets one of the servants to do so +for her. She appears either as “your aunt” or +as “She”; her name is not given, but she is evidently +looked upon with a good deal of awe by all who had to do with +her.</p> +<p>The letters almost all of them relate to visits either of the +aunt to London, or of the nieces to the aunt’s home, which, +from occasional allusions to hopping, I gather to have been in +Kent, Sussex, or Surrey. I have arranged them to the best +of my power, and take the following to be the earliest. It +has no signature, but is not in the handwriting of the servant +who styles herself Elizabeth, or Mrs. Newton. It +runs:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span +class="smcap">Madam</span>,—Your Aunt Wishes me to inform +you she will be glad if you will let hir know if you think of +coming To hir House thiss month or Next as she cannot have you in +September on a kount of the Hoping If you ar coming she thinkes +she had batter Go to London on the Day you com to hir House the +says you shall have everry Thing raddy for you at hir House and +Mrs. Newton to meet you and stay with you till She returnes a +gann.</p> +<p>“if you arnot Coming thiss Summer She will be in London +before thiss Month is out and will Sleep on the Sofy As She +willnot be in London more thann two nits. and She Says she +willnot truble you on anny a kount as She Will returne the Same +Day before She will plage you anny more. but She thanks you for +asking hir to London. but She says She cannot leve the house at +prassant She sayhir Survants ar to do for you as she cannot lodge +yours nor she willnot have thim in at the house anny more to +brake and destroy hir thinks and beslive hir and make up Lies by +hir and Skandel as your too did She says she mens to pay fore 2 +Nits and one day, She says the Pepelwill let hir have it if you +ask thim to let hir: you Will be so good as to let hir know sun: +wish She is to do, as She says She dos not care anny thing a bout +it. which way tiss she is batter than She was and desirs hir Love +to bouth bouth.</p> +<p>“Your aunt wises to know how the silk Clocks ar madup +[how the silk cloaks are made up] with a Cape or a wood as she is +a goin to have one madeup to rideout in in hir littel shas +[chaise].</p> +<p>“Charles is a butty and so good.</p> +<p>“Mr & Mrs Newton ar quite wall & desires to be +remembered to you.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>I can throw no light on the meaning of the verb to +“beslive.” Each letter in the MS. is so +admirably formed that there can be no question about the word +being as I have given it. Nor have I been able to discover +what is referred to by the words “Charles is a butty and so +good.” We shall presently meet with a Charles who +“flies in the Fier,” but that Charles appears to have +been in London, whereas this one is evidently in Kent, or +wherever the aunt lived.</p> +<p>The next letter is from Mrs. Newton</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Der Miss</span> ---, I +Receve your Letter your Aunt is vary Ill and Lowspireted I Donte +think your Aunt wood Git up all Day if My Sister Wasnot to +Persage her We all Think hir lif is two monopolous. you Wish to +know Who Was Liveing With your Aunt. that is My Sister and +Willian—and Cariline—as Cock and Old Poll Pepper is +Come to Stay With her a Littel Wile and I hoped [hopped] for Your +Aunt, and Harry has Worked for your Aunt all the Summer. +Your Aunt and Harry Whent to the Wells Races and Spent a very +Pleasant Day your Aunt has Lost Old Fanney Sow She Died about a +Week a Go Harry he Wanted your Aunt to have her killed and send +her to London and Shee Wold Fech her £11 the Farmers have +Lost a Greet Deal of Cattel such as Hogs and Cows What theay call +the Plage I Whent to your Aunt as you Wish Mee to Do But She Told +Mee She Did not wont aney Boddy She Told Mee She Should Like to +Come up to see you But She Cant Come know for she is Boddyley ill +and Harry Donte Work there know But he Go up there Once in Two or +Three Day Harry Offered is self to Go up to Live With your Aunt +But She Made him know Ancer. I hay Been up to your Aunt at +Work for 5 Weeks Hopping and Ragluting Your Aunt Donte Eat nor +Drink But vary Littel indeed.</p> +<p>“I am Happy to Say We are Both Quite Well and I am Glad +no hear you are Both Quite Well</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">Mrs +Newton</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>This seems to have made the nieces propose to pay a visit to +their aunt, perhaps to try and relieve the monopoly of her +existence and cheer her up a little. In their letter, +doubtless, the dog motive is introduced that is so finely +developed presently by Mrs. Newton. I should like to have +been able to give the theme as enounced by the nieces themselves, +but their letters are not before me. Mrs. Newton +writes:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear +Girls</span>,—Your Aunt receiv your Letter your Aunt will +Be vary glad to see you as it quite a greeable if it tis to you +and Shee is Quite Willing to Eair the beds and the Rooms if you +Like to Trust to hir and the Servantes; if not I may Go up there +as you Wish. My Sister Sleeps in the Best Room as she +allways Did and the Coock in the garret and you Can have the +Rooms the same as you allways Did as your Aunt Donte set in the +Parlour She Continlery Sets in the Ciching. your Aunt says she +Cannot Part from the dog know hows and She Says he will not hurt +you for he is Like a Child and I can safeley say My Self he wonte +hurt you as She Cannot Sleep in the Room With out him as he +allWay Sleep in the Same Room as She Dose. your Aunt is agreeable +to Git in What Coles and Wood you Wish for I am know happy to say +your Aunt is in as Good health as ever She Was and She is happy +to hear you are Both Well your Aunt Wishes for Ancer By Return of +Post.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The nieces replied that their aunt must choose between the dog +and them, and Mrs. Newton sends a second letter which brings her +development to a climax. It runs:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss</span> ---, I +have Receve your Letter and i Whent up to your Aunt as you Wish +me and i Try to Perveal With her about the Dog But she Wold not +Put the Dog away nor it alow him to Be Tied up But She Still +Wishes you to Come as Shee says the Dog Shall not interrup you +for She Donte alow the Dog nor it the Cats to Go in the Parlour +never sence She has had it Donup ferfere of Spoiling the Paint +your Aunt think it vary Strange you Should Be so vary Much afraid +of a Dog and She says you Cant Go out in London But What you are +up a gance one and She says She Wonte Trust the Dog in know one +hands But her Owne for She is afraid theay Will not fill is +Belley as he Lives upon Rost Beeff and Rost and Boil Moutten Wich +he Eats More then the Servantes in the House there is not aney +One Wold Beable to Give Sattefacktion upon that account Harry +offerd to Take the Dog But She Wood not Trust him in our hands so +I Cold not Do aney thing With her your Aunt youse to Tell Me When +we was at your House in London She Did not know how to make you +amens and i Told her know it was the Time to Do it But i +Considder She sets the Dog Before you your Aunt keep know Beer +know Sprits know Wines in the House of aney Sort Oneley a Little +Barl of Wine I made her in the Summer the Workmen and servantes +are a Blige to Drink wauter Morning Noon and Night your Aunt the +Same She Donte Low her Self aney Tee nor Coffee But is Loocking +Wonderful Well</p> +<p>“I Still Remane your Humble Servant Mrs Newton</p> +<p>“I am vary sorry to think the Dog Perventes your +Comeing</p> +<p>“I am Glad to hear you are Both Well and we are the +same.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The nieces remained firm, and from the following letter it is +plain the aunt gave way. The dog motive is repeated +<i>pianissimo</i>, and is not returned to—not at least by +Mrs. Newton.</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss</span> ---, I +Receve your Letter on Thursday i Whent to your Aunt and i see her +and She is a Greable to everry thing i asked her and seme so vary +Much Please to see you Both Next Tuseday and she has sent for the +Faggots to Day and she Will Send for the Coles to Morrow and i +will Go up there to Morrow Morning and Make the Fiers and Tend to +the Beds and sleep in it Till you Come Down your Aunt sends her +Love to you Both and she is Quite well your Aunt Wishes you wold +Write againe Before you Come as she ma Expeckye and the Dog is +not to Gointo the Parlor a Tall</p> +<p>“your Aunt kind Love to you Both & hopes you Wonte +Fail in Coming according to Prommis</p> +<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Mrs +Newton</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>From a later letter it appears that the nieces did not pay +their visit after all, and what is worse a letter had miscarried, +and the aunt sat up expecting them from seven till twelve at +night, and Harry had paid for “Faggots and Coles quarter of +Hund. Faggots Half tun of Coles 1<i>l.</i> 1<i>s.</i> +3<i>d.</i>” Shortly afterwards, however, +“She” again talks of coming up to London herself and +writes through her servant—</p> +<blockquote><p>“My Dear girls i Receve your kind letter +& I am happy to hear you ar both Well and I Was in hopes of +seeing of you Both Down at My House this spring to stay a Wile I +am Quite well my self in Helth But vary Low Spireted I am vary +sorry to hear the Misforting of Poor charles & how he cum to +flie in the Fier I cannot think. I should like to know if +he is dead or a Live, and I shall come to London in August & +stay three or four daies if it is agreable to you. Mrs. +Newton has lost her mother in Law 4 day March & I hope you +send me word Wather charles is Dead or a Live as soon as +possible, and will you send me word what Little Betty is for I +cannot make her out.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The next letter is a new handwriting, and tells the nieces of +their aunt’s death in the the following terms:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss</span> ---, +It is my most painful duty to inform you that your dear aunt +expired this morning comparatively easy as Hannah informs me and +in so doing restored her soul to the custody of him whom she +considered to be alone worthy of its care.</p> +<p>“The doctor had visited her about five minutes +previously and had applied a blister.</p> +<p>“You and your sister will I am sure excuse further +details at present and believe me with kindest remembrances to +remain</p> +<p>“Yours truly, &c.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>After a few days a lawyer’s letter informs the nieces +that their aunt had left them the bulk of her not very +considerable property, but had charged them with an annuity of +£1 a week to be paid to Harry and Mrs. Newton so long as +the dog lived.</p> +<p>The only other letters by Mrs. Newton are written on paper of +a different and more modern size; they leave an impression of +having been written a good many years later. I take them as +they come. The first is very short:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss</span> ---, i +write to say i cannot possiblely come on Wednesday as we have +killed a pig. your’s truely,</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“<span class="smcap">Elizabeth +Newton</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The second runs:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss</span> ---, i +hope you are both quite well in health & your Leg much better +i am happy to say i am getting quite well again i hope Amandy has +reached you safe by this time i sent a small parcle by Amandy, +there was half a dozen Pats of butter & the Cakes was very +homely and not so light as i could wish i hope by this time Sarah +Ann has promised she will stay untill next monday as i think a +few daies longer will not make much diferance and as her young +man has been very considerate to wait so long as he has i think +he would for a few days Longer dear Miss --- I wash for William +and i have not got his clothes yet as it has been delayed by the +carrier & i cannot possiblely get it done before Sunday and i +do not Like traviling on a Sunday but to oblige you i would come +but to come sooner i cannot possiblely but i hope Sarah Ann will +be prevailed on once more as She has so many times i feel sure if +she tells her young man he will have patient for he is a very +kind young man</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“i remain your sincerely<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Elizabeth Newton</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The last letter in my collection seems written almost within +measurable distance of the Christmas-card era. The sheet is +headed by a beautifully embossed device of some holly in red and +green, wishing the recipient of the letter a merry Xmas and a +happy new year, while the border is crimped and edged with +blue. I know not what it is, but there is something in the +writer’s highly finished style that reminds me of +Mendelssohn. It would almost do for the words of one of his +celebrated “Lieder ohne Worte”:</p> +<blockquote><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss +Maria</span>,—I hasten to acknowledge the receipt of your +kind note with the inclosure for which I return my best +thanks. I need scarcely say how glad I was to know that the +volumes secured your approval, and that the announcement of the +improvement in the condition of your Sister’s legs afforded +me infinite pleasure. The gratifying news encouraged me in +the hope that now the nature of the disorder is comprehended her +legs will—notwithstanding the process may be +gradual—ultimately get quite well. The pretty Robin +Redbreast which lay ensconced in your epistle, conveyed to me, in +terms more eloquent than words, how much you desired me those +Compliments which the little missive he bore in his bill +expressed; the emblem is sweetly pretty, and now that we are +again allowed to felicitate each other on another recurrence of +the season of the Christian’s rejoicing, permit me to +tender to yourself, and by you to your Sister, mine and my +Wife’s heartfelt congratulations and warmest wishes with +respect to the coming year. It is a common belief that if +we take a retrospective view of each departing year, as it +behoves us annually to do, we shall find the blessings which we +have received to immeasurably outnumber our causes of +sorrow. Speaking for myself I can fully subscribe to that +sentiment, and doubtless neither Miss --- nor yourself are +exceptions. Miss ---’s illness and consequent +confinement to the house has been a severe trial, but in that +trouble an opportunity was afforded you to prove a Sister’s +devotion and she has been enabled to realise a larger (if +possible) display of sisterly affection.</p> +<p>“A happy Christmas to you both, and may the new year +prove a Cornucopia from which still greater blessings than even +those we have hitherto received, shall issue, to benefit us all +by contributing to our temporal happiness and, what is of higher +importance, conducing to our felicity hereafter.</p> +<p>“I was sorry to hear that you were so annoyed with mice +and rats, and if I should have an opportunity to obtain a nice +cat I will do so and send my boy to your house with it.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“I remain,<br /> +“Yours truly.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>How little what is commonly called education can do after all +towards the formation of a good style, and what a delightful +volume might not be entitled “Half Hours with the Worst +Authors.” Why, the finest word I know of in the +English language was coined, not by my poor old grandfather, +whose education had left little to desire, nor by any of the +admirable scholars whom he in his turn educated, but by an old +matron who presided over one of the halls, or houses of his +school.</p> +<p>This good lady, whose name by the way was Bromfield, had a +fine high temper of her own, or thought it politic to affect +one. One night when the boys were particularly noisy she +burst like a hurricane into the hall, collared a youngster, and +told him he was “the +ramp-ingest-scampingest-rackety-tackety-tow-row-roaringest boy in +the whole school.” Would Mrs. Newton have been able +to set the aunt and the dog before us so vividly if she had been +more highly educated? Would Mrs. Bromfield have been able +to forge and hurl her thunderbolt of a word if she had been +taught how to do so, or indeed been at much pains to create it at +all? It came. It was her [Greek text]. She did +not probably know that she had done what the greatest scholar +would have had to rack his brains over for many an hour before he +could even approach. Tradition says that having brought +down her boy she looked round the hall in triumph, and then after +a moment’s lull said, “Young gentlemen, prayers are +excused,” and left them.</p> +<p>I have sometimes thought that, after all, the main use of a +classical education consists in the check it gives to +originality, and the way in which it prevents an inconvenient +number of people from using their own eyes. That we will +not be at the trouble of looking at things for ourselves if we +can get any one to tell us what we ought to see goes without +saying, and it is the business of schools and universities to +assist us in this respect. The theory of evolution teaches +that any power not worked at pretty high pressure will +deteriorate: originality and freedom from affectation are all +very well in their way, but we can easily have too much of them, +and it is better that none should be either original or free from +cant but those who insist on being so, no matter what hindrances +obstruct, nor what incentives are offered them to see things +through the regulation medium.</p> +<p>To insist on seeing things for oneself is to be in [Greek +text], or in plain English, an idiot; nor do I see any safer +check against general vigour and clearness of thought, with +consequent terseness of expression, than that provided by the +curricula of our universities and schools of public +instruction. If a young man, in spite of every effort to +fit him with blinkers, will insist on getting rid of them, he +must do so at his own risk. He will not be long in finding +out his mistake. Our public schools and universities play +the beneficent part in our social scheme that cattle do in +forests: they browse the seedlings down and prevent the growth of +all but the luckiest and sturdiest. Of course, if there are +too many either cattle or schools, they browse so effectually +that they find no more food, and starve till equilibrium is +restored; but it seems to be a provision of nature that there +should always be these alternate periods, during which either the +cattle or the trees are getting the best of it; and, indeed, +without such provision we should have neither the one nor the +other. At this moment the cattle, doubtless, are in the +ascendant, and if university extension proceeds much farther, we +shall assuredly have no more Mrs. Newtons and Mrs. Bromfields; +but whatever is is best, and, on the whole, I should propose to +let things find pretty much their own level.</p> +<p>However this may be, who can question that the treasures +hidden in many a country house contain sleeping beauties even +fairer than those that I have endeavoured to waken from long +sleep in the foregoing article? How many Mrs. Quicklys are +there not living in London at this present moment? For that +Mrs. Quickly was an invention of Shakespeare’s I will not +believe. The old woman from whom he drew said every word +that he put into Mrs. Quickly’s mouth, and a great deal +more which he did not and perhaps could not make use of. +This question, however, would again lead me far from my subject, +which I should mar were I to dwell upon it longer, and therefore +leave with the hope that it may give my readers absolutely no +food whatever for reflection.</p> +<h2>HOW TO MAKE THE BEST OF LIFE <a name="citation4"></a><a +href="#footnote4" class="citation">[4]</a></h2> +<p>I have been asked to speak on the question how to make the +best of life, but may as well confess at once that I know nothing +about it. I cannot think that I have made the best of my +own life, nor is it likely that I shall make much better of what +may or may not remain to me. I do not even know how to make +the best of the twenty minutes that your committee has placed at +my disposal, and as for life as a whole, who ever yet made the +best of such a colossal opportunity by conscious effort and +deliberation? In little things no doubt deliberate and +conscious effort will help us, but we are speaking of large +issues, and such kingdoms of heaven as the making the best of +these come not by observation.</p> +<p>The question, therefore, on which I have undertaken to address +you is, as you must all know, fatuous, if it be faced +seriously. Life is like playing a violin solo in public and +learning the instrument as one goes on. One cannot make the +best of such impossibilities, and the question is doubly fatuous +until we are told which of our two lives—the conscious or +the unconscious—is held by the asker to be the truer +life. Which does the question contemplate—the life we +know, or the life which others may know, but which we know +not?</p> +<p>Death gives a life to some men and women compared with which +their so-called existence here is as nothing. Which is the +truer life of Shakespeare, Handel, that divine woman who wrote +the “Odyssey,” and of Jane Austen—the life +which palpitated with sensible warm motion within their own +bodies, or that in virtue of which they are still palpitating in +ours? In whose consciousness does their truest life +consist—their own, or ours? Can Shakespeare be said +to have begun his true life till a hundred years or so after he +was dead and buried? His physical life was but as an +embryonic stage, a coming up out of darkness, a twilight and dawn +before the sunrise of that life of the world to come which he was +to enjoy hereafter. We all live for a while after we are +gone hence, but we are for the most part stillborn, or at any +rate die in infancy, as regards that life which every age and +country has recognised as higher and truer than the one of which +we are now sentient. As the life of the race is larger, +longer, and in all respects more to be considered than that of +the individual, so is the life we live in others larger and more +important than the one we live in ourselves. This appears +nowhere perhaps more plainly than in the case of great teachers, +who often in the lives of their pupils produce an effect that +reaches far beyond anything produced while their single lives +were yet unsupplemented by those other lives into which they +infused their own.</p> +<p>Death to such people is the ending of a short life, but it +does not touch the life they are already living in those whom +they have taught; and happily, as none can know when he shall +die, so none can make sure that he too shall not live long beyond +the grave; for the life after death is like money before +it—no one can be sure that it may not fall to him or her +even at the eleventh hour. Money and immortality come in +such odd unaccountable ways that no one is cut off from +hope. We may not have made either of them for ourselves, +but yet another may give them to us in virtue of his or her love, +which shall illumine us for ever, and establish us in some +heavenly mansion whereof we neither dreamed nor shall ever +dream. Look at the Doge Loredano Loredani, the old +man’s smile upon whose face has been reproduced so +faithfully in so many lands that it can never henceforth be +forgotten—would he have had one hundredth part of the life +he now lives had he not been linked awhile with one of those +heaven-sent men who know <i>che cosa è amor</i>? +Look at Rembrandt’s old woman in our National Gallery; had +she died before she was eighty-three years old she would not have +been living now. Then, when she was eighty-three, +immortality perched upon her as a bird on a withered bough.</p> +<p>I seem to hear some one say that this is a mockery, a piece of +special pleading, a giving of stones to those that ask for +bread. Life is not life unless we can feel it, and a life +limited to a knowledge of such fraction of our work as may happen +to survive us is no true life in other people; salve it as we +may, death is not life any more than black is white.</p> +<p>The objection is not so true as it sounds. I do not deny +that we had rather not die, nor do I pretend that much even in +the case of the most favoured few can survive them beyond the +grave. It is only because this is so that our own life is +possible; others have made room for us, and we should make room +for others in our turn without undue repining. What I +maintain is that a not inconsiderable number of people do +actually attain to a life beyond the grave which we can all feel +forcibly enough, whether they can do so or not—that this +life tends with increasing civilisation to become more and more +potent, and that it is better worth considering, in spite of its +being unfelt by ourselves, than any which we have felt or can +ever feel in our own persons.</p> +<p>Take an extreme case. A group of people are photographed +by Edison’s new process—say Titiens, Trebelli, and +Jenny Lind, with any two of the finest men singers the age has +known—let them be photographed incessantly for half an hour +while they perform a scene in “Lohengrin”; let all be +done stereoscopically. Let them be phonographed at the same +time so that their minutest shades of intonation are preserved, +let the slides be coloured by a competent artist, and then let +the scene be called suddenly into sight and sound, say a hundred +years hence. Are those people dead or alive? Dead to +themselves they are, but while they live so powerfully and so +livingly in us, which is the greater paradox—to say that +they are alive or that they are dead? To myself it seems +that their life in others would be more truly life than their +death to themselves is death. Granted that they do not +present all the phenomena of life—who ever does so even +when he is held to be alive? We are held to be alive +because we present a sufficient number of living phenomena to let +the others go without saying; those who see us take the part for +the whole here as in everything else, and surely, in the case +supposed above, the phenomena of life predominate so powerfully +over those of death, that the people themselves must be held to +be more alive than dead. Our living personality is, as the +word implies, only our mask, and those who still own such a mask +as I have supposed have a living personality. Granted again +that the case just put is an extreme one; still many a man and +many a woman has so stamped him or herself on his work that, +though we would gladly have the aid of such accessories as we +doubtless presently shall have to the livingness of our great +dead, we can see them very sufficiently through the master pieces +they have left us.</p> +<p>As for their own unconsciousness I do not deny it. The +life of the embryo was unconscious before birth, and so is the +life—I am speaking only of the life revealed to us by +natural religion—after death. But as the embryonic +and infant life of which we were unconscious was the most potent +factor in our after life of consciousness, so the effect which we +may unconsciously produce in others after death, and it may be +even before it on those who have never seen us, is in all sober +seriousness our truer and more abiding life, and the one which +those who would make the best of their sojourn here will take +most into their consideration.</p> +<p>Unconsciousness is no bar to livingness. Our conscious +actions are a drop in the sea as compared with our unconscious +ones. Could we know all the life that is in us by way of +circulation, nutrition, breathing, waste and repair, we should +learn what an infinitesimally small part consciousness plays in +our present existence; yet our unconscious life is as truly life +as our conscious life, and though it is unconscious to itself it +emerges into an indirect and vicarious consciousness in our other +and conscious self, which exists but in virtue of our unconscious +self. So we have also a vicarious consciousness in +others. The unconscious life of those that have gone before +us has in great part moulded us into such men and women as we +are, and our own unconscious lives will in like manner have a +vicarious consciousness in others, though we be dead enough to it +in ourselves.</p> +<p>If it is again urged that it matters not to us how much we may +be alive in others, if we are to know nothing about it, I reply +that the common instinct of all who are worth considering gives +the lie to such cynicism. I see here present some who have +achieved, and others who no doubt will achieve, success in +literature. Will one of them hesitate to admit that it is a +lively pleasure to her to feel that on the other side of the +world some one may be smiling happily over her work, and that she +is thus living in that person though she knows nothing about +it? Here it seems to me that true faith comes in. +Faith does not consist, as the Sunday School pupil said, +“in the power of believing that which we know to be +untrue.” It consists in holding fast that which the +healthiest and most kindly instincts of the best and most +sensible men and women are intuitively possessed of, without +caring to require much evidence further than the fact that such +people are so convinced; and for my own part I find the best men +and women I know unanimous in feeling that life in others, even +though we know nothing about it, is nevertheless a thing to be +desired and gratefully accepted if we can get it either before +death or after. I observe also that a large number of men +and women do actually attain to such life, and in some cases +continue so to live, if not for ever, yet to what is practically +much the same thing. Our life then in this world is, to +natural religion as much as to revealed, a period of +probation. The use we make of it is to settle how far we +are to enter into another, and whether that other is to be a +heaven of just affection or a hell of righteous condemnation.</p> +<p>Who, then, are the most likely so to run that they may obtain +this veritable prize of our high calling? Setting aside +such lucky numbers drawn as it were in the lottery of +immortality, which I have referred to casually above, and setting +aside also the chances and changes from which even immortality is +not exempt, who on the whole are most likely to live anew in the +affectionate thoughts of those who never so much as saw them in +the flesh, and know not even their names? There is a +<i>nisus</i>, a straining in the dull dumb economy of things, in +virtue of which some, whether they will it and know it or no, are +more likely to live after death than others, and who are +these? Those who aimed at it as by some great thing that +they would do to make them famous? Those who have lived +most in themselves and for themselves, or those who have been +most ensouled consciously, but perhaps better unconsciously, +directly but more often indirectly, by the most living souls past +and present that have flitted near them? Can we think of a +man or woman who grips us firmly, at the thought of whom we +kindle when we are alone in our honest daw’s plumes, with +none to admire or shrug his shoulders, can we think of one such, +the secret of whose power does not lie in the charm of his or her +personality—that is to say, in the wideness of his or her +sympathy with, and therefore life in and communion with other +people? In the wreckage that comes ashore from the sea of +time there is much tinsel stuff that we must preserve and study +if we would know our own times and people; granted that many a +dead charlatan lives long and enters largely and necessarily into +our own lives; we use them and throw them away when we have done +with them. I do not speak of these, I do not speak of the +Virgils and Alexander Popes, and who can say how many more whose +names I dare not mention for fear of offending. They are as +stuffed birds or beasts in a Museum, serviceable no doubt from a +scientific standpoint, but with no vivid or vivifying hold upon +us. They seem to be alive, but are not. I am speaking +of those who do actually live in us, and move us to higher +achievements though they be long dead, whose life thrusts out our +own and overrides it. I speak of those who draw us ever +more towards them from youth to age, and to think of whom is to +feel at once that we are in the hands of those we love, and whom +we would most wish to resemble. What is the secret of the +hold that these people have upon us? Is it not that while, +conventionally speaking, alive, they most merged their lives in, +and were in fullest communion with those among whom they +lived? They found their lives in losing them. We +never love the memory of any one unless we feel that he or she +was himself or herself a lover.</p> +<p>I have seen it urged, again, in querulous accents, that the +so-called immortality even of the most immortal is not for +ever. I see a passage to this effect in a book that is +making a stir as I write. I will quote it. The writer +says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“So, it seems to me, is the immortality we +so glibly predicate of departed artists. If they survive at +all, it is but a shadowy life they live, moving on through the +gradations of slow decay to distant but inevitable death. +They can no longer, as heretofore, speak directly to the hearts +of their fellow-men, evoking their tears or laughter, and all the +pleasures, be they sad or merry, of which imagination holds the +secret. Driven from the marketplace they become first the +companions of the student, then the victims of the +specialist. He who would still hold familiar intercourse +with them must train himself to penetrate the veil which in +ever-thickening folds conceals them from the ordinary gaze; he +must catch the tone of a vanished society, he must move in a +circle of alien associations, he must think in a language not his +own.” <a name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5" +class="citation">[5]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>This is crying for the moon, or rather pretending to cry for +it, for the writer is obviously insincere. I see the +<i>Saturday Review</i> says the passage I have just quoted +“reaches almost to poetry,” and indeed I find many +blank verses in it, some of them very aggressive. No prose +is free from an occasional blank verse, and a good writer will +not go hunting over his work to rout them out, but nine or ten in +little more than as many lines is indeed reaching too near to +poetry for good prose. This, however, is a trifle, and +might pass if the tone of the writer was not so obviously that of +cheap pessimism. I know not which is cheapest, pessimism or +optimism. One forces lights, the other darks; both are +equally untrue to good art, and equally sure of their effect with +the groundlings. The one extenuates, the other sets down in +malice. The first is the more amiable lie, but both are +lies, and are known to be so by those who utter them. Talk +about catching the tone of a vanished society to understand +Rembrandt or Giovanni Bellini! It’s +nonsense—the folds do not thicken in front of these men; we +understand them as well as those among whom they went about in +the flesh, and perhaps better. Homer and Shakespeare speak +to us probably far more effectually than they did to the men of +their own time, and most likely we have them at their best. +I cannot think that Shakespeare talked better than we hear him +now in “Hamlet” or “Henry the Fourth”; +like enough he would have been found a very disappointing person +in a drawing-room. People stamp themselves on their work; +if they have not done so they are naught; if they have we have +them; and for the most part they stamp themselves deeper in their +work than on their talk. No doubt Shakespeare and Handel +will be one day clean forgotten, as though they had never been +born. The world will in the end die; mortality therefore +itself is not immortal, and when death dies the life of these men +will die with it—but not sooner. It is enough that +they should live within us and move us for many ages as they have +and will. Such immortality, therefore, as some men and +women are born to, achieve, or have thrust upon them, is a +practical if not a technical immortality, and he who would have +more let him have nothing.</p> +<p>I see I have drifted into speaking rather of how to make the +best of death than of life, but who can speak of life without his +thoughts turning instantly to that which is beyond it? He +or she who has made the best of the life after death has made the +best of the life before it; who cares one straw for any such +chances and changes as will commonly befall him here if he is +upheld by the full and certain hope of everlasting life in the +affections of those that shall come after? If the life +after death is happy in the hearts of others, it matters little +how unhappy was the life before it.</p> +<p>And now I leave my subject, not without misgiving that I shall +have disappointed you. But for the great attention which is +being paid to the work from which I have quoted above, I should +not have thought it well to insist on points with which you are, +I doubt not, as fully impressed as I am: but that book weakens +the sanctions of natural religion, and minimises the comfort +which it affords us, while it does more to undermine than to +support the foundations of what is commonly called belief. +Therefore I was glad to embrace this opportunity of +protesting. Otherwise I should not have been so serious on +a matter that transcends all seriousness. Lord Beaconsfield +cut it shorter with more effect. When asked to give a rule +of life for the son of a friend he said, “Do not let him +try and find out who wrote the letters of Junius.” +Pressed for further counsel he added, “Nor yet who was the +man in the iron mask”—and he would say no more. +Don’t bore people. And yet I am by no means sure that +a good many people do not think themselves ill-used unless he who +addresses them has thoroughly well bored them—especially if +they have paid any money for hearing him. My great namesake +said, “Surely the pleasure is as great of being cheated as +to cheat,” and great as the pleasure both of cheating and +boring undoubtedly is, I believe he was right. So I +remember a poem which came out some thirty years ago in +<i>Punch</i>, about a young lady who went forth in quest to +“Some burden make or burden bear, but which she did not +greatly care, oh Miserie.” So, again, all the holy +men and women who in the Middle Ages professed to have discovered +how to make the best of life took care that being bored, if not +cheated, should have a large place in their programme. +Still there are limits, and I close not without fear that I may +have exceeded them.</p> +<h2>THE SANCTUARY OF MONTRIGONE <a name="citation6"></a><a +href="#footnote6" class="citation">[6]</a></h2> +<p>The only place in the Valsesia, except Varallo, where I at +present suspect the presence of Tabachetti <a +name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7" +class="citation">[7]</a> is at Montrigone, a little-known +sanctuary dedicated to St. Anne, about three-quarters of a mile +south of Borgo-Sesia station. The situation is, of course, +lovely, but the sanctuary does not offer any features of +architectural interest. The sacristan told me it was +founded in 1631; and in 1644 Giovanni d’Enrico, while +engaged in superintending and completing the work undertaken here +by himself and Giacomo Ferro, fell ill and died. I do not +know whether or no there was an earlier sanctuary on the same +site, but was told it was built on the demolition of a stronghold +belonging to the Counts of Biandrate.</p> +<p>The incidents which it illustrates are treated with even more +than the homeliness usual in works of this description when not +dealing with such solemn events as the death and passion of +Christ. Except when these subjects were being represented, +something of the latitude, and even humour, allowed in the old +mystery plays was permitted, doubtless from a desire to render +the work more attractive to the peasants, who were the most +numerous and most important pilgrims. It is not until faith +begins to be weak that it fears an occasionally lighter treatment +of semi-sacred subjects, and it is impossible to convey an +accurate idea of the spirit prevailing at this hamlet of +sanctuary without attuning oneself somewhat to the more pagan +character of the place. Of irreverence, in the sense of a +desire to laugh at things that are of high and serious import, +there is not a trace, but at the same time there is a certain +unbending of the bow at Montrigone which is not perceivable at +Varallo.</p> +<p>The first chapel to the left on entering the church is that of +the Birth of the Virgin. St. Anne is sitting up in +bed. She is not at all ill—in fact, considering that +the Virgin has only been born about five minutes, she is +wonderful; still the doctors think it may be perhaps better that +she should keep her room for half an hour longer, so the bed has +been festooned with red and white paper roses, and the +counterpane is covered with bouquets in baskets and in vases of +glass and china. These cannot have been there during the +actual birth of the Virgin, so I suppose they had been in +readiness, and were brought in from an adjoining room as soon as +the baby had been born. A lady on her left is bringing in +some more flowers, which St. Anne is receiving with a smile and +most gracious gesture of the hands. The first thing she +asked for, when the birth was over, was for her three silver +hearts. These were immediately brought to her, and she has +got them all on, tied round her neck with a piece of blue silk +ribbon.</p> +<p>Dear mamma has come. We felt sure she would, and that +any little misunderstandings between her and Joachim would ere +long be forgotten and forgiven. They are both so good and +sensible if they would only understand one another. At any +rate, here she is, in high state at the right hand of the +bed. She is dressed in black, for she has lost her husband +some few years previously, but I do not believe a smarter, sprier +old lady for her years could be found in Palestine, nor yet that +either Giovanni d’Enrico or Giacomo Ferro could have +conceived or executed such a character. The sacristan +wanted to have it that she was not a woman at all, but was a +portrait of St. Joachim, the Virgin’s father. +“Sembra una donna,” he pleaded more than once, +“ma non è donna.” Surely, however, in +works of art even more than in other things, there is no +“is” but seeming, and if a figure seems female it +must be taken as such. Besides, I asked one of the leading +doctors at Varallo whether the figure was man or woman. He +said it was evident I was not married, for that if I had been I +should have seen at once that she was not only a woman but a +mother-in-law of the first magnitude, or, as he called it, +“una suocera tremenda,” and this without knowing that +I wanted her to be a mother-in-law myself. Unfortunately +she had no real drapery, so I could not settle the question as my +friend Mr. H. F. Jones and I had been able to do at Varallo with +the figure of Eve that had been turned into a Roman soldier +assisting at the capture of Christ. I am not, however, +disposed to waste more time upon anything so obvious, and will +content myself with saying that we have here the Virgin’s +grandmother. I had never had the pleasure, so far as I +remembered, of meeting this lady before, and was glad to have an +opportunity of making her acquaintance.</p> +<p>Tradition says that it was she who chose the Virgin’s +name, and if so, what a debt of gratitude do we not owe her for +her judicious selection! It makes one shudder to think what +might have happened if she had named the child Keren-Happuch, as +poor Job’s daughter was called. How could we have +said, “Ave Keren-Happuch!” What would the +musicians have done? I forget whether Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz +was a man or a woman, but there were plenty of names quite as +unmanageable at the Virgin’s grandmother’s option, +and we cannot sufficiently thank her for having chosen one that +is so euphonious in every language which we need take into +account. For this reason alone we should not grudge her her +portrait, but we should try to draw the line here. I do not +think we ought to give the Virgin’s great-grandmother a +statue. Where is it to end? It is like Mr. +Crookes’s ultimissimate atoms; we used to draw the line at +ultimate atoms, and now it seems we are to go a step farther back +and have ultimissimate atoms. How long, I wonder, will it +be before we feel that it will be a material help to us to have +ultimissimissimate atoms? Quavers stopped at +demi-semi-demi, but there is no reason to suppose that either +atoms or ancestresses of the Virgin will be so complacent.</p> +<p>I have said that on St. Anne’s left hand there is a lady +who is bringing in some flowers. St. Anne was always +passionately fond of flowers. There is a pretty story told +about her in one of the Fathers, I forget which, to the effect +that when a child she was asked which she liked best—cakes +or flowers? She could not yet speak plainly and lisped out, +“Oh fowses, pretty fowses”; she added, however, with +a sigh and as a kind of wistful corollary, “but cakes are +very nice.” She is not to have any cakes, just now, +but as soon as she has done thanking the lady for her beautiful +nosegay, she is to have a couple of nice new-laid eggs, that are +being brought her by another lady. Valsesian women +immediately after their confinement always have eggs beaten up +with wine and sugar, and one can tell a Valsesian Birth of the +Virgin from a Venetian or a Florentine by the presence of the +eggs. I learned this from an eminent Valsesian professor of +medicine, who told me that, though not according to received +rules, the eggs never seemed to do any harm. Here they are +evidently to be beaten up, for there is neither spoon nor +egg-cup, and we cannot suppose that they were hard-boiled. +On the other hand, in the Middle Ages Italians never used +egg-cups and spoons for boiled eggs. The mediæval +boiled egg was always eaten by dipping bread into the yolk.</p> +<p>Behind the lady who is bringing in the eggs is the +under-under-nurse who is at the fire warming a towel. In +the foreground we have the regulation midwife holding the +regulation baby (who, by the way, was an astonishingly fine child +for only five minutes old). Then comes the +under-nurse—a good buxom creature, who, as usual, is +feeling the water in the bath to see that it is of the right +temperature. Next to her is the head-nurse, who is +arranging the cradle. Behind the head-nurse is the +under-under-nurse’s drudge, who is just going out upon some +errands. Lastly—for by this time we have got all +round the chapel—we arrive at the Virgin’s +grandmother’s-body-guard, a stately, responsible-looking +lady, standing in waiting upon her mistress. I put it to +the reader—is it conceivable that St. Joachim should have +been allowed in such a room at such a time, or that he should +have had the courage to avail himself of the permission, even +though it had been extended to him? At any rate, is it +conceivable that he should have been allowed to sit on St. +Anne’s right hand, laying down the law with a “Marry, +come up here,” and a “Marry, go-down there,” +and a couple of such unabashed collars as the old lady has put on +for the occasion?</p> +<p>Moreover (for I may as well demolish this mischievous +confusion between St. Joachim and his mother-in-law once and for +all), the merest tyro in hagiology knows that St. Joachim was not +at home when the Virgin was born. He had been hustled out +of the temple for having no children, and had fled desolate and +dismayed into the wilderness. It shows how silly people +are, for all the time he was going, if they had only waited a +little, to be the father of the most remarkable person of purely +human origin who had ever been born, and such a parent as this +should surely not be hurried. The story is told in the +frescoes of the chapel of Loreto, only a quarter of an +hour’s walk from Varallo, and no one can have known it +better than D’Enrico. The frescoes are explained by +written passages that tell us how, when Joachim was in the +desert, an angel came to him in the guise of a fair, civil young +gentleman, and told him the Virgin was to be born. Then, +later on, the same young gentleman appeared to him again, and +bade him “in God’s name be comforted, and turn again +to his content,” for the Virgin had been actually +born. On which St. Joachim, who seems to have been of +opinion that marriage after all <i>was</i> rather a failure, said +that, as things were going on so nicely without him, he would +stay in the desert just a little longer, and offered up a lamb as +a pretext to gain time. Perhaps he guessed about his +mother-in-law, or he may have asked the angel. Of course, +even in spite of such evidence as this I may be mistaken about +the Virgin’s grandmother’s sex, and the sacristan may +be right; but I can only say that if the lady sitting by St. +Anne’s bedside at Montrigone is the Virgin’s +father—well, in that case I must reconsider a good deal +that I have been accustomed to believe was beyond question.</p> +<p>Taken singly, I suppose that none of the figures in the +chapel, except the Virgin’s grandmother, should be rated +very highly. The under-nurse is the next best figure, and +might very well be Tabachetti’s, for neither Giovanni +d’Enrico nor Giacomo Ferro was successful with his female +characters. There is not a single really comfortable woman +in any chapel by either of them on the Sacro Monte at +Varallo. Tabachetti, on the other hand, delighted in women; +if they were young he made them comely and engaging, if they were +old he gave them dignity and individual character, and the +under-nurse is much more in accordance with Tabachetti’s +habitual mental attitude than with D’Enrico’s or +Giacomo Ferro’s. Still there are only four figures +out of the eleven that are mere otiose supers, and taking the +work as a whole it leaves a pleasant impression as being +throughout naïve and homely, and sometimes, which is of less +importance, technically excellent.</p> +<p>Allowance must, of course, be made for tawdry accessories and +repeated coats of shiny oleaginous paint—very disagreeable +where it has peeled off and almost more so where it has +not. What work could stand against such treatment as the +Valsesian terra-cotta figures have had to put up with? Take +the Venus of Milo; let her be done in terra-cotta, and have run, +not much, but still something, in the baking; paint her pink, two +oils, all over, and then varnish her—it will help to +preserve the paint; glue a lot of horsehair on to her pate, half +of which shall have come off, leaving the glue still showing; +scrape her, not too thoroughly, get the village drawing-master to +paint her again, and the drawing-master in the next provincial +town to put a forest background behind her with the brightest +emerald-green leaves that he can do for the money; let this +painting and scraping and repainting be repeated several times +over; festoon her with pink and white flowers made of tissue +paper; surround her with the cheapest German imitations of the +cheapest decorations that Birmingham can produce; let the night +air and winter fogs get at her for three hundred years, and how +easy, I wonder, will it be to see the goddess who will be still +in great part there? True, in the case of the Birth of the +Virgin chapel at Montrigone, there is no real hair and no fresco +background, but time has had abundant opportunities without +these. I will conclude my notice of this chapel by saying +that on the left, above the door through which the +under-under-nurse’s drudge is about to pass, there is a +good painted terra-cotta bust, said—but I believe on no +authority—to be a portrait of Giovanni +d’Enrico. Others say that the Virgin’s +grandmother is Giovanni d’Enrico, but this is even more +absurd than supposing her to be St. Joachim.</p> +<p>The next chapel to the Birth of the Virgin is that of the +<i>Sposalizio</i>. There is no figure here which suggests +Tabachetti, but still there are some very good ones. The +best have no taint of <i>barocco</i>; the man who did them, +whoever he may have been, had evidently a good deal of life and +go, was taking reasonable pains, and did not know too much. +Where this is the case no work can fail to please. Some of +the figures have real hair and some terra cotta. There is +no fresco background worth mentioning. A man sitting on the +steps of the altar with a book on his lap, and holding up his +hand to another, who is leaning over him and talking to him, is +among the best figures; some of the disappointed suitors who are +breaking their wands are also very good.</p> +<p>The angel in the Annunciation chapel, which comes next in +order, is a fine, burly, ship’s-figurehead, +commercial-hotel sort of being enough, but the Virgin is very +ordinary. There is no real hair and no fresco background, +only three dingy old blistered pictures of no interest +whatever.</p> +<p>In the visit of Mary to Elizabeth there are three pleasing +subordinate lady attendants, two to the left and one to the right +of the principal figures; but these figures themselves are not +satisfactory. There is no fresco background. Some of +the figures have real hair and some terra cotta.</p> +<p>In the Circumcision and Purification chapel—for both +these events seem contemplated in the one that +follows—there are doves, but there is neither dog nor +knife. Still Simeon, who has the infant Saviour in his +arms, is looking at him in a way which can only mean that, knife +or no knife, the matter is not going to end here. At +Varallo they have now got a dreadful knife for the Circumcision +chapel. They had none last winter. What they have now +got would do very well to kill a bullock with, but could not be +used professionally with safety for any animal smaller than a +rhinoceros. I imagine that some one was sent to Novara to +buy a knife, and that, thinking it was for the Massacre of the +Innocents chapel, he got the biggest he could see. Then +when he brought it back people said “chow” several +times, and put it upon the table and went away.</p> +<p>Returning to Montrigone, the Simeon is an excellent figure, +and the Virgin is fairly good, but the prophetess Anna, who +stands just behind her, is by far the most interesting in the +group, and is alone enough to make me feel sure that Tabachetti +gave more or less help here, as he had done years before at +Orta. She, too, like the Virgin’s grandmother, is a +widow lady, and wears collars of a cut that seems to have +prevailed ever since the Virgin was born some twenty years +previously. There is a largeness and simplicity of +treatment about the figure to which none but an artist of the +highest rank can reach, and D’Enrico was not more than a +second or third-rate man. The hood is like Handel’s +Truth sailing upon the broad wings of Time, a prophetic strain +that nothing but the old experience of a great poet can +reach. The lips of the prophetess are for the moment +closed, but she has been prophesying all the morning, and the +people round the wall in the background are in ecstasies at the +lucidity with which she has explained all sorts of difficulties +that they had never been able to understand till now. They +are putting their forefingers on their thumbs and their thumbs on +their forefingers, and saying how clearly they see it all and +what a wonderful woman Anna is. A prophet indeed is not +generally without honour save in his own country, but then a +country is generally not without honour save with its own +prophet, and Anna has been glorifying her country rather than +reviling it. Besides, the rule may not have applied to +prophetesses.</p> +<p>The Death of the Virgin is the last of the six chapels inside +the church itself. The Apostles, who of course are present, +have all of them real hair, but, if I may say so, they want a +wash and a brush-up so very badly that I cannot feel any +confidence in writing about them. I should say that, take +them all round, they are a good average sample of apostle as +apostles generally go. Two or three of them are nervously +anxious to find appropriate quotations in books that lie open +before them, which they are searching with eager haste; but I do +not see one figure about which I should like to say positively +that it is either good or bad. There is a good bust of a +man, matching the one in the Birth of the Virgin chapel, which is +said to be a portrait of Giovanni d’Enrico, but it is not +known whom it represents.</p> +<p>Outside the church, in three contiguous cells that form part +of the foundations, are:—</p> +<p>1. A dead Christ, the head of which is very impressive +while the rest of the figure is poor. I examined the +treatment of the hair, which is terra-cotta, and compared it with +all other like hair in the chapels above described; I could find +nothing like it, and think it most likely that Giacomo Ferro did +the figure, and got Tabachetti to do the head, or that they +brought the head from some unused figure by Tabachetti at +Varallo, for I know no other artist of the time and neighbourhood +who could have done it.</p> +<p>2. A Magdalene in the desert. The desert is a +little coal-cellar of an arch, containing a skull and a profusion +of pink and white paper bouquets, the two largest of which the +Magdalene is hugging while she is saying her prayers. She +is a very self-sufficient lady, who we may be sure will not stay +in the desert a day longer than she can help, and while there +will flirt even with the skull if she can find nothing better to +flirt with. I cannot think that her repentance is as yet +genuine, and as for her praying there is no object in her doing +so, for she does not want anything.</p> +<p>3. In the next desert there is a very beautiful figure +of St. John the Baptist kneeling and looking upwards. This +figure puzzles me more than any other at Montrigone; it appears +to be of the fifteenth rather than the sixteenth century; it +hardly reminds me of Gaudenzio, and still less of any other +Valsesian artist. It is a work of unusual beauty, but I can +form no idea as to its authorship.</p> +<p>I wrote the foregoing pages in the church at Montrigone +itself, having brought my camp-stool with me. It was +Sunday; the church was open all day, but there was no mass said, +and hardly any one came. The sacristan was a kind, gentle, +little old man, who let me do whatever I wanted. He sat on +the doorstep of the main door, mending vestments, and to this end +was cutting up a fine piece of figured silk from one to two +hundred years old, which, if I could have got it, for half its +value, I should much like to have bought. I sat in the cool +of the church while he sat in the doorway, which was still in +shadow, snipping and snipping, and then sewing, I am sure with +admirable neatness. He made a charming picture, with the +arched portico over his head, the green grass and low church wall +behind him, and then a lovely landscape of wood and pasture and +valleys and hillside. Every now and then he would come and +chirrup about Joachim, for he was pained and shocked at my having +said that his Joachim was some one else and not Joachim at +all. I said I was very sorry, but I was afraid the figure +was a woman. He asked me what he was to do. He had +known it, man and boy, this sixty years, and had always shown it +as St. Joachim; he had never heard any one but myself question +his ascription, and could not suddenly change his mind about it +at the bidding of a stranger. At the same time he felt it +was a very serious thing to continue showing it as the +Virgin’s father if it was really her grandmother. I +told him I thought this was a case for his spiritual director, +and that if he felt uncomfortable about it he should consult his +parish priest and do as he was told.</p> +<p>On leaving Montrigone, with a pleasant sense of having made +acquaintance with a new and, in many respects, interesting work, +I could not get the sacristan and our difference of opinion out +of my head. What, I asked myself, are the differences that +unhappily divide Christendom, and what are those that divide +Christendom from modern schools of thought, but a seeing of +Joachims as the Virgin’s grandmothers on a larger +scale? True, we cannot call figures Joachim when we know +perfectly well that they are nothing of the kind; but I +registered a vow that henceforward when I called Joachims the +Virgin’s grandmothers I would bear more in mind than I have +perhaps always hitherto done, how hard it is for those who have +been taught to see them as Joachims to think of them as something +different. I trust that I have not been unfaithful to this +vow in the preceding article. If the reader differs from +me, let me ask him to remember how hard it is for one who has got +a figure well into his head as the Virgin’s grandmother to +see it as Joachim.</p> +<h2>A MEDIEVAL GIRL SCHOOL <a name="citation8"></a><a +href="#footnote8" class="citation">[8]</a></h2> +<p>This last summer I revisited Oropa, near Biella, to see what +connection I could find between the Oropa chapels and those at +Varallo. I will take this opportunity of describing the +chapels at Oropa, and more especially the remarkable fossil, or +petrified girl school, commonly known as the <i>Dimora</i>, or +Sojourn of the Virgin Mary in the Temple.</p> +<p>If I do not take these works so seriously as the reader may +expect, let me beg him, before he blames me, to go to Oropa and +see the originals for himself. Have the good people of +Oropa themselves taken them very seriously? Are we in an +atmosphere where we need be at much pains to speak with bated +breath? We, as is well known, love to take even our +pleasures sadly; the Italians take even their sadness +<i>allegramente</i>, and combine devotion with amusement in a +manner that we shall do well to study if not imitate. For +this best agrees with what we gather to have been the custom of +Christ himself, who, indeed, never speaks of austerity but to +condemn it. If Christianity is to be a living faith, it +must penetrate a man’s whole life, so that he can no more +rid himself of it than he can of his flesh and bones or of his +breathing. The Christianity that can be taken up and laid +down as if it were a watch or a book is Christianity in name +only. The true Christian can no more part from Christ in +mirth than in sorrow. And, after all, what is the essence +of Christianity? What is the kernel of the nut? +Surely common sense and cheerfulness, with unflinching opposition +to the charlatanisms and Pharisaisms of a man’s own +times. The essence of Christianity lies neither in dogma, +nor yet in abnormally holy life, but in faith in an unseen world, +in doing one’s duty, in speaking the truth, in finding the +true life rather in others than in oneself, and in the certain +hope that he who loses his life on these behalfs finds more than +he has lost. What can Agnosticism do against such +Christianity as this? I should be shocked if anything I had +ever written or shall ever write should seem to make light of +these things. I should be shocked also if I did not know +how to be amused with things that amiable people obviously +intended to be amusing.</p> +<p>The reader may need to be reminded that Oropa is among the +somewhat infrequent sanctuaries at which the Madonna and infant +Christ are not white, but black. I shall return to this +peculiarity of Oropa later on, but will leave it for the +present. For the general characteristics of the place I +must refer the reader to my book, “Alps and +Sanctuaries.” <a name="citation9"></a><a href="#footnote9" +class="citation">[9]</a> I propose to confine myself here +to the ten or a dozen chapels containing life-sized terra-cotta +figures, painted up to nature, that form one of the main features +of the place. At a first glance, perhaps, all these chapels +will seem uninteresting; I venture to think, however, that some, +if not most of them, though falling a good deal short of the best +work at Varallo and Crea, are still in their own way of +considerable importance. The first chapel with which we +need concern ourselves is numbered 4, and shows the Conception of +the Virgin Mary. It represents St. Anne as kneeling before +a terrific dragon or, as the Italians call it, +“insect,” about the size of a Crystal Palace +pleiosaur. This “insect” is supposed to have +just had its head badly crushed by St. Anne, who seems to be +begging its pardon. The text “Ipsa conteret caput +tuum” is written outside the chapel. The figures have +no artistic interest. As regards dragons being called +insects, the reader may perhaps remember that the island of S. +Giulio, in the Lago d’Orta, was infested with +<i>insetti</i>, which S. Giulio destroyed, and which appear, in a +fresco underneath the church on the island, to have been +monstrous and ferocious dragons; but I cannot remember whether +their bodies are divided into three sections, and whether or no +they have exactly six legs—without which, I am told, they +cannot be true insects.</p> +<p>The fifth chapel represents the birth of the Virgin. +Having obtained permission to go inside it, I found the date 1715 +cut large and deep on the back of one figure before baking, and I +imagine that this date covers the whole. There is a Queen +Anne feeling throughout the composition, and if we were told that +the sculptor and Francis Bird, sculptor of the statue in front of +St. Paul’s Cathedral, had studied under the same master, we +could very well believe it. The apartment in which the +Virgin was born is spacious, and in striking contrast to the one +in which she herself gave birth to the Redeemer. St. Anne +occupies the centre of the composition, in an enormous bed; on +her right there is a lady of the George Cruikshank style of +beauty, and on the left an older person. Both are +gesticulating and impressing upon St. Anne the enormous +obligation she has just conferred upon mankind; they seem also to +be imploring her not to overtax her strength, but, strange to +say, they are giving her neither flowers nor anything to eat and +drink. I know no other birth of the Virgin in which St. +Anne wants so little keeping up.</p> +<p>I have explained in my book “Ex Voto,” <a +name="citation10"></a><a href="#footnote10" +class="citation">[10]</a> but should perhaps repeat here, that +the distinguishing characteristic of the Birth of the Virgin, as +rendered by Valsesian artists, is that St. Anne always has eggs +immediately after the infant is born, and usually a good deal +more, whereas the Madonna never has anything to eat or +drink. The eggs are in accordance with a custom that still +prevails among the peasant classes in the Valsesia, where women +on giving birth to a child generally are given a +<i>sabaglione</i>—an egg beaten up with a little wine, or +rum, and sugar. East of Milan the Virgin’s mother +does not have eggs, and I suppose, from the absence of the eggs +at Oropa, that the custom above referred to does not prevail in +the Biellese district. The Virgin also is invariably +washed. St. John the Baptist, when he is born at all, which +is not very often, is also washed; but I have not observed that +St. Elizabeth has anything like the attention paid her that is +given to St. Anne. What, however, is wanting here at Oropa +in meat and drink is made up in Cupids; they swarm like flies on +the walls, clouds, cornices, and capitals of columns.</p> +<p>Against the right-hand wall are two lady-helps, each warming a +towel at a glowing fire, to be ready against the baby should come +out of its bath; while in the right-hand foreground we have the +<i>levatrice</i>, who having discharged her task, and being now +so disposed, has removed the bottle from the chimney-piece, and +put it near some bread, fruit and a chicken, over which she is +about to discuss the confinement with two other gossips. +The <i>levatrice</i> is a very characteristic figure, but the +best in the chapel is the one of the head nurse, near the middle +of the composition; she has now the infant in full charge, and is +showing it to St. Joachim, with an expression as though she were +telling him that her husband was a merry man. I am afraid +Shakespeare was dead before the sculptor was born, otherwise I +should have felt certain that he had drawn Juliet’s nurse +from this figure. As for the little Virgin herself, I +believe her to be a fine boy of about ten months old. +Viewing the work as a whole, if I only felt more sure what +artistic merit really is, I should say that, though the chapel +cannot be rated very highly from some standpoints, there are +others from which it may be praised warmly enough. It is +innocent of anatomy-worship, free from affectation or swagger, +and not devoid of a good deal of homely +<i>naïveté</i>. It can no more be compared with +Tabachetti or Donatello than Hogarth can with Rembrandt or +Giovanni Bellini; but as it does not transcend the limitations of +its age, so neither is it wanting in whatever merits that age +possessed; and there is no age without merits of some kind. +There is no inscription saying who made the figures, but +tradition gives them to Pietro Aureggio Termine, of Biella, +commonly called Aureggio. This is confirmed by their strong +resemblance to those in the <i>Dimora</i> Chapel, in which there +is an inscription that names Aureggio as the sculptor.</p> +<p>The sixth chapel deals with the Presentation of the Virgin in +the Temple. The Virgin is very small, but it must be +remembered that she is only seven years old, and she is not +nearly so small as she is at Crea, where, though a life-sized +figure is intended, the head is hardly bigger than an +apple. She is rushing up the steps with open arms towards +the High Priest, who is standing at the top. For her it is +nothing alarming; it is the High Priest who appears frightened; +but it will all come right in time. The Virgin seems to be +saying, “Why, don’t you know me? I’m the +Virgin Mary.” But the High Priest does not feel so +sure about that, and will make further inquiries. The +scene, which comprises some twenty figures, is animated enough, +and though it hardly kindles enthusiasm, still does not fail to +please. It looks as though of somewhat older date than the +Birth of the Virgin chapel, and I should say shows more signs of +direct Valsesian influence. In Marocco’s book about +Oropa it is ascribed to Aureggio, but I find it difficult to +accept this.</p> +<p>The seventh, and in many respects most interesting chapel at +Oropa, shows what is in reality a medieval Italian girl school, +as nearly like the thing itself as the artist could make it; we +are expected, however, to see in this the high-class kind of +Girton College for young gentlewomen that was attached to the +Temple at Jerusalem, under the direction of the Chief +Priest’s wife, or some one of his near female +relatives. Here all well-to-do Jewish young women completed +their education, and here accordingly we find the Virgin, whose +parents desired she should shine in every accomplishment, and +enjoy all the advantages their ample means commanded.</p> +<p>I have met with no traces of the Virgin during the years +between her Presentation in the Temple and her becoming head girl +at Temple College. These years, we may be assured, can +hardly have been other than eventful; but incidents, or bits of +life, are like living forms—it is only here and here, as by +rare chance, that one of them gets arrested and fossilised; the +greater number disappear like the greater number of antediluvian +molluscs, and no one can say why one of these flies, as it were, +of life should get preserved in amber more than another. +Talk, indeed, about luck and cunning; what a grain of sand as +against a hundredweight is cunning’s share here as against +luck’s. What moment could be more humdrum and +unworthy of special record than the one chosen by the artist for +the chapel we are considering? Why should this one get +arrested in its flight and made immortal when so many worthier +ones have perished? Yet preserved it assuredly is; it is as +though some fairy’s wand had struck the medieval Miss +Pinkerton, Amelia Sedley, and others who do duty instead of the +Hebrew originals. It has locked them up as sleeping +beauties, whose charms all may look upon. Surely the hours +are like the women grinding at the mill—the one is taken +and the other left, and none can give the reason more than he can +say why Gallio should have won immortality by caring for none of +“these things.”</p> +<p>It seems to me, moreover, that fairies have changed their +practice now in the matter of sleeping beauties, much as +shopkeepers have done in Regent Street. Formerly the +shopkeeper used to shut up his goods behind strong shutters, so +that no one might see them after closing hours. Now he +leaves everything open to the eye and turns the gas on. So +the fairies, who used to lock up their sleeping beauties in +impenetrable thickets, now leave them in the most public places +they can find, as knowing that they will there most certainly +escape notice. Look at De Hooghe; look at “The +Pilgrim’s Progress,” or even Shakespeare +himself—how long they slept unawakened, though they were in +broad daylight and on the public thoroughfares all the +time. Look at Tabachetti, and the masterpieces he left at +Varallo. His figures there are exposed to the gaze of every +passer-by; yet who heeds them? Who, save a very few, even +know of their existence? Look again at Gaudenzio Ferrari, +or the “Danse des Paysans,” by Holbein, to which I +ventured to call attention in the <i>Universal Review</i>. +No, no; if a thing be in Central Africa, it is the glory of this +age to find it out; so the fairies think it safer to conceal +their <i>protégés</i> under a show of openness; for +the schoolmaster is much abroad, and there is no hedge so thick +or so thorny as the dulness of culture.</p> +<p>It may be, again, that ever so many years hence, when Mr. +Darwin’s earth-worms shall have buried Oropa hundreds of +feet deep, some one sinking a well or making a railway-cutting +will unearth these chapels, and will believe them to have been +houses, and to contain the <i>exuviæ</i> of the living +forms that tenanted them. In the meantime, however, let us +return to a consideration of the chapel as it may now be seen by +any one who cares to pass that way.</p> +<p>The work consists of about forty figures in all, not counting +Cupids, and is divided into four main divisions. First, +there is the large public sitting-room or drawing-room of the +College, where the elder young ladies are engaged in various +elegant employments. Three, at a table to the left, are +making a mitre for the Bishop, as may be seen from the model on +the table. Some are merely spinning or about to spin. +One young lady, sitting rather apart from the others, is doing an +elaborate piece of needlework at a tambour-frame near the window; +others are making lace or slippers, probably for the new curate; +another is struggling with a letter, or perhaps a theme, which +seems to be giving her a good deal of trouble, but which, when +done, will, I am sure, be beautiful. One dear little girl +is simply reading “Paul and Virginia” underneath the +window, and is so concealed that I hardly think she can be seen +from the outside at all, though from inside she is delightful; it +was with great regret that I could not get her into any +photograph. One most amiable young woman has got a +child’s head on her lap, the child having played itself to +sleep. All are industriously and agreeably employed in some +way or other; all are plump; all are nice looking; there is not +one Becky Sharp in the whole school; on the contrary, as in +“Pious Orgies,” all is pious—or +sub-pious—and all, if not great, is at least eminently +respectable. One feels that St. Joachim and St. Anne could +not have chosen a school more judiciously, and that if one had +daughter oneself this is exactly where one would wish to place +her. If there is a fault of any kind in the arrangements, +it is that they do not keep cats enough. The place is +overrun with mice, though what these can find to eat I know +not. It occurs to me also that the young ladies might be +kept a little more free of spiders’ webs; but in all these +chapels, bats, mice and spiders are troublesome.</p> +<p>Off the main drawing-room on the side facing the window there +is a dais, which is approached by a large raised semicircular +step, higher than the rest of the floor, but lower than the dais +itself. The dais is, of course, reserved for the venerable +Lady Principal and the under-mistresses, one of whom, by the way, +is a little more <i>mondaine</i> than might have been expected, +and is admiring herself in a looking-glass—unless, indeed, +she is only looking to see if there is a spot of ink on her +face. The Lady Principal is seated near a table, on which +lie some books in expensive bindings, which I imagine to have +been presented to her by the parents of pupils who were leaving +school. One has given her a photographic album; another a +large scrap-book, for illustrations of all kinds; a third volume +has red edges, and is presumably of a devotional character. +If I dared venture another criticism, I should say it would be +better not to keep the ink-pot on the top of these books. +The Lady Principal is being read to by the monitress for the +week, whose duty it was to recite selected passages from the most +approved Hebrew writers; she appears to be a good deal outraged, +possibly at the faulty intonation of the reader, which she has +long tried vainly to correct; or perhaps she has been hearing of +the atrocious way in which her forefathers had treated the +prophets, and is explaining to the young ladies how impossible it +would be, in their own more enlightened age, for a prophet to +fail of recognition.</p> +<p>On the half-dais, as I suppose the large semicircular step +between the main room and the dais should be called, we find, +first, the monitress for the week, who stands up while she +recites; and secondly, the Virgin herself, who is the only pupil +allowed a seat so near to the august presence of the Lady +Principal. She is ostensibly doing a piece of embroidery +which is stretched on a cushion on her lap, but I should say that +she was chiefly interested in the nearest of four pretty little +Cupids, who are all trying to attract her attention, though they +pay no court to any other young lady. I have sometimes +wondered whether the obviously scandalised gesture of the Lady +Principal might not be directed at these Cupids, rather than at +anything the monitress may have been reading, for she would +surely find them disquieting. Or she may be saying, +“Why, bless me! I do declare the Virgin has got +another hamper, and St. Anne’s cakes are always so terribly +rich!” Certainly the hamper is there, close to the +Virgin, and the Lady Principal’s action may be well +directed at it, but it may have been sent to some other young +lady, and be put on the sub-dais for public exhibition. It +looks as if it might have come from Fortnum and Mason’s, +and I half expected to find a label, addressing it to “The +Virgin Mary, Temple College, Jerusalem,” but if ever there +was one the mice have long since eaten it. The Virgin +herself does not seem to care much about it, but if she has a +fault it is that she is generally a little apathetic.</p> +<p>Whose the hamper was, however, is a point we shall never now +certainly determine, for the best fossil is worse than the worst +living form. Why, alas! was not Mr. Edison alive when this +chapel was made? We might then have had a daily +phonographic recital of the conversation, and an announcement +might be put outside the chapels, telling us at what hours the +figures would speak.</p> +<p>On either of side the main room there are two annexes opening +out from it; these are reserved chiefly for the younger children, +some of whom, I think, are little boys. In the left-hand +annex, behind the ladies who are making a mitre, there is a child +who has got a cake, and another has some fruit—possibly +given them by the Virgin—and a third child is begging for +some of it. The light failed so completely here that I was +not able to photograph any of these figures. It was a dull +September afternoon, and the clouds had settled thick round the +chapel, which is never very light, and is nearly 4000 feet above +the sea. I waited till such twilight as made it hopeless +that more detail could be got—and a queer ghostly place +enough it was to wait in—but after giving the plate an +exposure of fifty minutes, I saw I could get no more, and +desisted.</p> +<p>These long photographic exposures have the advantage that one +is compelled to study a work in detail through mere lack of other +employment, and that one can take one’s notes in peace +without being tempted to hurry over them; but even so I +continually find I have omitted to note, and have clean +forgotten, much that I want later on.</p> +<p>In the other annex there are also one or two younger children, +but it seems to have been set apart for conversation and +relaxation more than any other part of the establishment.</p> +<p>I have already said that the work is signed by an inscription +inside the chapel, to the effect that the sculptures are by +Pietro Aureggio Termine di Biella. It will be seen that the +young ladies are exceedingly like one another, and that the +artist aimed at nothing more than a faithful rendering of the +life of his own times. Let us be thankful that he aimed at +nothing less. Perhaps his wife kept a girls’ school; +or he may have had a large family of fat, good-natured daughters, +whose little ways he had studied attentively; at all events the +work is full of spontaneous incident, and cannot fail to become +more and more interesting as the age it renders falls farther +back into the past. It is to be regretted that many +artists, better known men, have not been satisfied with the +humbler ambitions of this most amiable and interesting +sculptor. If he has left us no laboured life-studies, he +has at least done something for us which we can find nowhere +else, which we should be very sorry not to have, and the fidelity +of which to Italian life at the beginning of the last century +will not be disputed.</p> +<p>The eighth chapel is that of the <i>Sposalizio</i>, is +certainly not by Aureggio, and I should say was mainly by the +same sculptor who did the Presentation in the Temple. On +going inside I found the figures had come from more than one +source; some of them are constructed so absolutely on Valsesian +principles, as regards technique, that it may be assumed they +came from Varallo. Each of these last figures is in three +pieces, that are baked separately and cemented together +afterwards, hence they are more easily transported; no more clay +is used than is absolutely necessary; and the off-side of the +figure is neglected; they will be found chiefly, if not entirely, +at the top of the steps. The other figures are more solidly +built, and do not remind me in their business features of +anything in the Valsesia. There was a sculptor, Francesco +Sala, of Locarno (doubtless the village a short distance below +Varallo, and not the Locarno on the Lago Maggiore), who made +designs for some of the Oropa chapels, and some of whose letters +are still preserved, but whether the Valsesian figures in this +present work are by him or not I cannot say.</p> +<p>The statues are twenty-five in number; I could find no date or +signature; the work reminds me of Montrigone; several of the +figures are not at all bad, and several have horsehair for hair, +as at Varallo. The effect of the whole composition is +better than we have a right to expect from any sculpture dating +from the beginning of the last century.</p> +<p>The ninth chapel, the Annunciation, presents no feature of +interest; nor yet does the tenth, the Visit of Mary to +Elizabeth. The eleventh, the Nativity, though rather +better, is still not remarkable.</p> +<p>The twelfth, the Purification, is absurdly bad, but I do not +know whether the expression of strong personal dislike to the +Virgin which the High Priest wears is intended as prophetic, or +whether it is the result of incompetence, or whether it is merely +a smile gone wrong in the baking. It is amusing to find +Marocco, who has not been strict about archæological +accuracy hitherto, complain here that there is an anachronism, +inasmuch as some young ecclesiastics are dressed as they would be +at present, and one of them actually carries a wax candle. +This is not as it should be; in works like those at Oropa, where +implicit reliance is justly placed on the earnest endeavours that +have been so successfully made to thoroughly and carefully and +patiently ensure the accuracy of the minutest details, it is a +pity that even a single error should have escaped detection; +this, however, has most unfortunately happened here, and Marocco +feels it his duty to put us on our guard. He explains that +the mistake arose from the sculptor’s having taken both his +general arrangement and his details from some picture of the +fourteenth or fifteenth century, when the value of the strictest +historical accuracy was not yet so fully understood.</p> +<p>It seems to me that in the matter of accuracy, priests and men +of science whether lay or regular on the one hand, and plain +people whether lay or regular on the other, are trying to play a +different game, and fail to understand one another because they +do not see that their objects are not the same. The cleric +and the man of science (who is only the cleric in his latest +development) are trying to develop a throat with two distinct +passages—one that shall refuse to pass even the smallest +gnat, and another that shall gracefully gulp even the largest +camel; whereas we men of the street desire but one throat, and +are content that this shall swallow nothing bigger than a +pony. Every one knows that there is no such effectual means +of developing the power to swallow camels as incessant +watchfulness for opportunities of straining at gnats, and this +should explain many passages that puzzle us in the work both of +our clerics and our scientists. I, not being a man of +science, still continue to do what I said I did in “Alps +and Sanctuaries,” and make it a rule to earnestly and +patiently and carefully swallow a few of the smallest gnats I can +find several times a day, as the best astringent for the throat I +know of.</p> +<p>The thirteenth chapel is the Marriage Feast at Cana of +Galilee. This is the best chapel as a work of art; indeed, +it is the only one which can claim to be taken quite +seriously. Not that all the figures are very good; those to +the left of the composition are commonplace enough; nor are the +Christ and the giver of the feast at all remarkable; but the ten +or dozen figures of guests and attendants at the right-hand end +of the work are as good as anything of their kind can be, and +remind me so strongly of Tabachetti that I cannot doubt they were +done by some one who was indirectly influenced by that great +sculptor’s work. It is not likely that Tabachetti was +alive long after 1640, by which time he would have been about +eighty years old; and the foundations of this chapel were not +laid till about 1690; the statues are probably a few years later; +they can hardly, therefore, be by one who had even studied under +Tabachetti; but until I found out the dates, and went inside the +chapel to see the way in which the figures had been constructed, +I was inclined to think they might be by Tabachetti himself, of +whom, indeed, they are not unworthy. On examining the +figures I found them more heavily constructed than +Tabachetti’s are, with smaller holes for taking out +superfluous clay, and more finished on the off-sides. +Marocco says the sculptor is not known. I looked in vain +for any date or signature. Possibly the right-hand figures +(for the left-hand ones can hardly be by the same hand) may be by +some sculptor from Crea, which is at no very great distance from +Oropa, who was penetrated by Tabachetti’s influence; but +whether as regards action and concert with one another, or as +regards excellence in detail, I do not see how anything can be +more realistic, and yet more harmoniously composed. The +placing of the musicians in a minstrels’ gallery helps the +effect; these musicians are six in number, and the other figures +are twenty-three. Under the table, between Christ and the +giver of the feast, there is a cat.</p> +<p>The fourteenth chapel, the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, is +without interest.</p> +<p>The fifteenth, the Coronation of the Virgin, contains +forty-six angels, twenty-six cherubs, fifty-six saints, the Holy +Trinity, the Madonna herself, and twenty-four innocents, making +156 statues in all. Of these I am afraid there is not one +of more than ordinary merit; the most interesting is a +half-length nude life-study of Disma—the good thief. +After what had been promised him it was impossible to exclude +him, but it was felt that a half-length nude figure would be as +much as he could reasonably expect.</p> +<p>Behind the sanctuary there is a semi-ruinous and wholly +valueless work, which shows the finding of the black image, which +is now in the church, but is only shown on great festivals.</p> +<p>This leads us to a consideration that I have delayed till +now. The black image is the central feature of Oropa; it is +the <i>raison d’être</i> of the whole place, and all +else is a mere incrustation, so to speak, around it. +According to this image, then, which was carved by St. Luke +himself, and than which nothing can be better authenticated, both +the Madonna and the infant Christ were as black as anything can +be conceived. It is not likely that they were as black as +they have been painted; no one yet ever was so black as that; +yet, even allowing for some exaggeration on St. Luke’s +part, they must have been exceedingly black if the portrait is to +be accepted; and uncompromisingly black they accordingly are on +most of the wayside chapels for many a mile around Oropa. +Yet in the chapels we have been hitherto considering—works +in which, as we know, the most punctilious regard has been shown +to accuracy—both the Virgin and Christ are uncompromisingly +white. As in the shops under the Colonnade where devotional +knick-knacks are sold, you can buy a black china image or a white +one, whichever you like; so with the pictures—the black and +white are placed side by side—<i>pagando il danaro si +può scegliere</i>. It rests not with history or with +the Church to say whether the Madonna and Child were black or +white, but you may settle it for yourself, whichever way you +please, or rather you are required, with the acquiescence of the +Church, to hold that they were both black and white at one and +the same time.</p> +<p>It cannot be maintained that the Church leaves the matter +undecided, and by tolerating both types proclaims the question an +open one, for she acquiesces in the portrait by St. Luke as +genuine. How, then, justify the whiteness of the Holy +Family in the chapels? If the portrait is not known as +genuine, why set such a stumbling-block in our paths as to show +us a black Madonna and a white one, both as historically +accurate, within a few yards of one another?</p> +<p>I ask this not in mockery, but as knowing that the Church must +have an explanation to give, if she would only give it, and as +myself unable to find any, even the most farfetched, that can +bring what we see at Oropa, Loreto and elsewhere into harmony +with modern conscience, either intellectual or ethical.</p> +<p>I see, indeed, from an interesting article in the <i>Atlantic +Monthly</i> for September 1889, entitled “The Black Madonna +of Loreto,” that black Madonnas were so frequent in ancient +Christian art that “some of the early writers of the Church +felt obliged to account for it by explaining that the Virgin was +of a very dark complexion, as might be proved by the verse of +Canticles which says, ‘I am black, but comely, O ye +daughters of Jerusalem.’ Others maintained that she +became black during her sojourn in Egypt. . . . Priests, of +to-day, say that extreme age and exposure to the smoke of +countless altar-candles have caused that change in complexion +which the more naïve fathers of the Church attributed to the +power of an Egyptian sun”; but the writer ruthlessly +disposes of this supposition by pointing out that in nearly all +the instances of black Madonnas it is the flesh alone that is +entirely black, the crimson of the lips, the white of the eyes, +and the draperies having preserved their original colour. +The authoress of the article (Mrs. Hilliard) goes on to tell us +that Pausanias mentions two statues of the black Venus, and says +that the oldest statue of Ceres among the Phigalenses was +black. She adds that Minerva Aglaurus, the daughter of +Cecrops, at Athens, was black; that Corinth had a black Venus, as +also the Thespians; that the oracles of Dodona and Delphi were +founded by black doves, the emissaries of Venus, and that the +Isis Multimammia in the Capitol at Rome is black.</p> +<p>Sometimes I have asked myself whether the Church does not +intend to suggest that the whole story falls outside the domain +of history, and is to be held as the one great epos, or myth, +common to all mankind; adaptable by each nation according to its +own several needs; translatable, so to speak, into the facts of +each individual nation, as the written word is translatable into +its language, but appertaining to the realm of the imagination +rather than to that of the understanding, and precious for +spiritual rather than literal truths. More briefly, I have +wondered whether she may not intend that such details as whether +the Virgin was white or black are of very little importance in +comparison with the basing of ethics on a story that shall appeal +to black races as well as to white ones.</p> +<p>If so, it is time we were made to understand this more +clearly. If the Church, whether of Rome or England, would +lean to some such view as this—tainted though it be with +mysticism—if we could see either great branch of the Church +make a frank, authoritative attempt to bring its teaching into +greater harmony with the educated understanding and conscience of +the time, instead of trying to fetter that understanding with +bonds that gall it daily more and more profoundly; then I, for +one, in view of the difficulty and graciousness of the task, and +in view of the great importance of historical continuity, would +gladly sink much of my own private opinion as to the value of the +Christian ideal, and would gratefully help either Church or both, +according to the best of my very feeble ability. On these +terms, indeed, I could swallow not a few camels myself cheerfully +enough.</p> +<p>Can we, however, see any signs as though either Rome or +England will stir hand or foot to meet us? Can any step be +pointed to as though either Church wished to make things easier +for men holding the opinions held by the late Mr. Darwin, or by +Mr. Herbert Spencer and Professor Huxley? How can those who +accept evolution with any thoroughness accept such doctrines as +the Incarnation or the Redemption with any but a +quasi-allegorical and poetical interpretation? Can we +conceivably accept these doctrines in the literal sense in which +the Church advances them? And can the leaders of the Church +be blind to the resistlessness of the current that has set +against those literal interpretations which she seems to hug more +and more closely the more religious life is awakened at +all? The clergyman is wanted as supplementing the doctor +and the lawyer in all civilised communities; these three keep +watch on one another, and prevent one another from becoming too +powerful. I, who distrust the <i>doctrinaire</i> in science +even more than the <i>doctrinaire</i> in religion, should view +with dismay the abolition of the Church of England, as knowing +that a blatant bastard science would instantly step into her +shoes; but if some such deplorable consummation is to be avoided +in England, it can only be through more evident leaning on the +part of our clergy to such an interpretation of the Sacred +History as the presence of a black and white Madonna almost side +by side at Oropa appears to suggest.</p> +<p>I fear that in these last paragraphs I may have trenched on +dangerous ground, but it is not possible to go to such places as +Oropa without asking oneself what they mean and involve. As +for the average Italian pilgrims, they do not appear to give the +matter so much as a thought. They love Oropa, and flock to +it in thousands during the summer; the President of the +Administration assured me that they lodged, after a fashion, as +many as ten thousand pilgrims on the 15th of last August. +It is astonishing how living the statues are to these people, and +how the wicked are upbraided and the good applauded. At +Varallo, since I took the photographs I published in my book +“Ex Voto,” an angry pilgrim has smashed the nose of +the dwarf in Tabachetti’s Journey to Calvary, for no other +reason than inability to restrain his indignation against one who +was helping to inflict pain on Christ. It is the real hair +and the painting up to nature that does this. Here at Oropa +I found a paper on the floor of the <i>Sposalizio</i> Chapel, +which ran as follows:—</p> +<p>“By the grace of God and the will of the administrative +chapter of this sanctuary, there have come here to work --- ---, +mason --- ---, carpenter, and --- --- plumber, all of Chiavazza, +on the twenty-first day of January 1886, full of cold (<i>pieni +di freddo</i>).</p> +<p>“They write these two lines to record their visit. +They pray the Blessed Virgin that she will maintain them safe and +sound from everything equivocal that may befall them (<i>sempre +sani e salvi da ogni equivoco li possa accadere</i>). Oh, +farewell! We reverently salute all the present statues, and +especially the Blessed Virgin, and the reader.”</p> +<p>Through the <i>Universal Review</i>, I suppose, all its +readers are to consider themselves saluted; at any rate, these +good fellows, in the effusiveness of their hearts, actually wrote +the above in pencil. I was sorely tempted to steal it, but, +after copying it, left it in the Chief Priest’s hands +instead.</p> +<h2>ART IN THE VALLEY OF SAAS <a name="citation11"></a><a +href="#footnote11" class="citation">[11]</a></h2> +<p>Having been told by Mr. Fortescue, of the British Museum, that +there were some chapels at Saas-Fée which bore analogy to +those at Varallo, described in my book “Ex Voto,” <a +name="citation12"></a><a href="#footnote12" +class="citation">[12]</a> I went to Saas during this last summer, +and venture now to lay my conclusions before the reader.</p> +<p>The chapels are fifteen in number, and lead up to a larger and +singularly graceful one, rather more than half-way between Saas +and Saas-Fée. This is commonly but wrongly called +the chapel of St. Joseph, for it is dedicated to the Virgin, and +its situation is of such extreme beauty—the great +Fée glaciers showing through the open portico—that +it is in itself worth a pilgrimage. It is surrounded by +noble larches and overhung by rock; in front of the portico there +is a small open space covered with grass, and a huge larch, the +stem of which is girt by a rude stone seat. The portico +itself contains seats for worshippers, and a pulpit from which +the preacher’s voice can reach the many who must stand +outside. The walls of the inner chapel are hung with votive +pictures, some of them very quaint and pleasing, and not +overweighted by those qualities that are usually dubbed by the +name of artistic merit. Innumerable wooden and waxen +representations of arms, legs, eyes, ears and babies tell of the +cures that have been effected during two centuries of devotion, +and can hardly fail to awaken a kindly sympathy with the long +dead and forgotten folks who placed them where they are.</p> +<p>The main interest, however, despite the extreme loveliness of +the St. Mary’s Chapel, centres rather in the small and +outwardly unimportant oratories (if they should be so called) +that lead up to it. These begin immediately with the ascent +from the level ground on which the village of Saas-im-Grund is +placed, and contain scenes in the history of the Redemption, +represented by rude but spirited wooden figures, each about two +feet high, painted, gilt, and rendered as life-like in all +respects as circumstances would permit. The figures have +suffered a good deal from neglect, and are still not a little +misplaced. With the assistance, however, of the Rev. E. J. +Selwyn, English Chaplain at Saas-im-Grund, I have been able to +replace many of them in their original positions, as indicated by +the parts of the figures that are left rough-hewn and +unpainted. They vary a good deal in interest, and can be +easily sneered at by those who make a trade of sneering. +Those, on the other hand, who remain unsophisticated by overmuch +art-culture will find them full of character in spite of not a +little rudeness of execution, and will be surprised at coming +across such works in a place so remote from any art-centre as +Saas must have been at the time these chapels were made. It +will be my business therefore to throw what light I can upon the +questions how they came to be made at all, and who was the artist +who designed them.</p> +<p>The only documentary evidence consists in a chronicle of the +valley of Saas written in the early years of this century by the +Rev. Peter Jos. Ruppen, and published at Sion in 1851. This +work makes frequent reference to a manuscript by the Rev. Peter +Joseph Clemens Lommatter, <i>curé</i> of Saas-Fée +from 1738 to 1751, which has unfortunately been lost, so that we +have no means of knowing how closely it was adhered to. The +Rev. Jos. Ant. Ruppen, the present excellent <i>curé</i> +of Saas-im-Grund, assures me that there is no reference to the +Saas-Fée oratories in the “Actes de +l’Eglise” at Saas, which I understand go a long way +back; but I have not seen these myself. Practically, then, +we have no more documentary evidence than is to be found in the +published chronicle above referred to.</p> +<p>We there find it stated that the large chapel, commonly, but +as above explained, wrongly called St. Joseph’s, was built +in 1687, and enlarged by subscription in 1747. These dates +appear on the building itself, and are no doubt accurate. +The writer adds that there was no actual edifice on this site +before the one now existing was built, but there was a miraculous +picture of the Virgin placed in a mural niche, before which the +pious herdsmen and devout inhabitants of the valley worshipped +under the vault of heaven. <a name="citation13"></a><a +href="#footnote13" class="citation">[13]</a> A miraculous +(or miracle-working) picture was always more or less rare and +important; the present site, therefore, seems to have been long +one of peculiar sanctity. Possibly the name Fée may +point to still earlier Pagan mysteries on the same site.</p> +<p>As regards the fifteen small chapels, the writer says they +illustrate the fifteen mysteries of the Psalter, and were built +in 1709, each householder of the Saas-Fée contributing one +chapel. He adds that Heinrich Andenmatten, afterwards a +brother of the Society of Jesus, was an especial benefactor or +promoter of the undertaking. One of the chapels, the +Ascension (No. 12 of the series), has the date 1709 painted on +it; but there is no date on any other chapel, and there seems no +reason why this should be taken as governing the whole +series.</p> +<p>Over and above this, there exists in Saas a tradition, as I +was told immediately on my arrival, by an English visitor, that +the chapels were built in consequence of a flood, but I have +vainly endeavoured to trace this story to an indigenous +source.</p> +<p>The internal evidence of the wooden figures +themselves—nothing analogous to which, it should be +remembered, can be found in the chapel of 1687—points to a +much earlier date. I have met with no school of sculpture +belonging to the early part of the eighteenth century to which +they can be plausibly assigned; and the supposition that they are +the work of some unknown local genius who was not led up to and +left no successors may be dismissed, for the work is too +scholarly to have come from any one but a trained sculptor. +I refer of course to those figures which the artist must be +supposed to have executed with his own hand, as, for example, the +central figure of the Crucifixion group and those of the +Magdalene and St. John. The greater number of the figures +were probably, as was suggested to me by Mr. Ranshaw, of Lowth, +executed by a local woodcarver from models in clay and wax +furnished by the artist himself. Those who examine the play +of line in the hair, mantle, and sleeve of the Magdalene in the +Crucifixion group, and contrast it with the greater part of the +remaining draperies, will find little hesitation in concluding +that this was the case, and will ere long readily distinguish the +two hands from which the figures have mainly come. I say +“mainly,” because there is at least one other +sculptor who may well have belonged to the year 1709, but who +fortunately has left us little. Examples of his work may +perhaps be seen in the nearest villain with a big hat in the +Flagellation chapel, and in two cherubs in the Assumption of the +Virgin.</p> +<p>We may say, then, with some certainty, that the designer was a +cultivated and practised artist. We may also not less +certainly conclude that he was of Flemish origin, for the horses +in the Journey to Calvary and Crucifixion chapels, where alone +there are any horses at all, are of Flemish breed, with no trace +of the Arab blood adopted by Gaudenzio at Varallo. The +character, moreover, of the villains is Northern—of the +Quentin Matsys, Martin Schongauer type, rather than Italian; the +same sub-Rubensesque feeling which is apparent in more than one +chapel at Varallo is not less evident here—especially in +the Journey to Calvary and Crucifixion chapels. There can +hardly, therefore, be a doubt that the artist was a Fleming who +had worked for several years in Italy.</p> +<p>It is also evident that he had Tabachetti’s work at +Varallo well in his mind. For not only does he adopt +certain details of costume (I refer particularly to the treatment +of soldiers’ tunics) which are peculiar to Tabachetti at +Varallo, but whenever he treats a subject which Tabachetti had +treated at Varallo, as in the Flagellation, Crowning with Thorns, +and Journey to Calvary chapels, the work at Saas is evidently +nothing but a somewhat modified abridgement of that at +Varallo. When, however, as in the Annunciation, the +Nativity, the Crucifixion, and other chapels, the work at Varallo +is by another than Tabachetti, no allusion is made to it. +The Saas artist has Tabachetti’s Varallo work at his +finger-ends, but betrays no acquaintance whatever with Gaudenzio +Ferrari, Gio. Ant. Paracca, or Giovanni D’Enrico.</p> +<p>Even, moreover, when Tabachetti’s work at Varallo is +being most obviously drawn from, as in the Journey to Calvary +chapel, the Saas version differs materially from that at Varallo, +and is in some respects an improvement on it. The idea of +showing other horsemen and followers coming up from behind, whose +heads can be seen over the crown of the interposing hill, is +singularly effective as suggesting a number of others that are +unseen, nor can I conceive that any one but the original designer +would follow Tabachetti’s Varallo design with as much +closeness as it has been followed here, and yet make such a +brilliantly successful modification. The stumbling, again, +of one horse (a detail almost hidden, according to +Tabachetti’s wont) is a touch which Tabachetti himself +might add, but which no Saas woodcarver who was merely adapting +from a reminiscence of Tabachetti’s Varallo chapel would be +likely to introduce. These considerations have convinced me +that the designer of the chapels at Saas is none other than +Tabachetti himself, who, as has been now conclusively shown, was +a native of Dinant, in Belgium.</p> +<p>The Saas chronicler, indeed, avers that the chapels were not +built till 1709—a statement apparently corroborated by a +date now visible on one chapel; but we must remember that the +chronicler did not write until a century or so later than 1709, +and though, indeed, his statement may have been taken from the +lost earlier manuscript of 1738, we know nothing about this +either one way or the other. The writer may have gone by +the still existing 1709 on the Ascension chapel, whereas this +date may in fact have referred to a restoration, and not to an +original construction. There is nothing, as I have said, in +the choice of the chapel on which the date appears, to suggest +that it was intended to govern the others. I have explained +that the work is isolated and exotic. It is by one in whom +Flemish and Italian influences are alike equally predominant; by +one who was saturated with Tabachetti’s Varallo work, and +who can improve upon it, but over whom the other Varallo +sculptors have no power. The style of the work is of the +sixteenth and not of the eighteenth century—with a few +obvious exceptions that suit the year 1709 exceedingly +well. Against such considerations as these, a statement +made at the beginning of this century referring to a century +earlier, and a promiscuous date upon one chapel, can carry but +little weight. I shall assume, therefore, henceforward, +that we have here groups designed in a plastic material by +Tabachetti, and reproduced in wood by the best local +wood-sculptor available, with the exception of a few figures cut +by the artist himself.</p> +<p>We ask, then, at what period in his life did Tabachetti design +these chapels, and what led to his coming to such an +out-of-the-way place as Saas at all? We should remember +that, according both to Fassola and Torrotti (writing in 1671 and +1686 respectively), Tabachetti <a name="citation14"></a><a +href="#footnote14" class="citation">[14]</a> became insane about +the year 1586 or early in 1587, after having just begun the +Salutation chapel. I have explained in “Ex +Voto” that I do not believe this story. I have no +doubt that Tabachetti was declared to be mad, but I believe this +to have been due to an intrigue, set on foot in order to get a +foreign artist out of the way, and to secure the Massacre of the +Innocents chapel, at that precise time undertaken, for Gio. Ant. +Paracca, who was an Italian.</p> +<p>Or he may have been sacrificed in order to facilitate the +return of the workers in stucco whom he had superseded on the +Sacro Monte. He may have been goaded into some imprudence +which was seized upon as a pretext for shutting him up; at any +rate, the fact that when in 1587 he inherited his father’s +property at Dinant, his trustee (he being expressly stated to be +“<i>expatrié</i>”) was +“<i>datif</i>,” “<i>dativus</i>,” +appointed not by himself but by the court, lends colour to the +statement that he was not his own master at the time; for in +later kindred deeds, now at Namur, he appoints his own +trustee. I suppose, then, that Tabachetti was shut up in a +madhouse at Varallo for a considerable time, during which I can +find no trace of him, but that eventually he escaped or was +released.</p> +<p>Whether he was a fugitive, or whether he was let out from +prison, he would in either case, in all reasonable probability, +turn his face homeward. If he was escaping, he would make +immediately for the Savoy frontier, within which Saas then +lay. He would cross the Baranca above Fobello, coming down +on to Ponte Grande in the Val Anzasca. He would go up the +Val Anzasca to Macugnaga, and over the Monte Moro, which would +bring him immediately to Saas. Saas, therefore, is the +nearest and most natural place for him to make for, if he were +flying from Varallo, and here I suppose him to have halted.</p> +<p>It so happened that on the 9th of September, 1589, there was +one of the three great outbreaks of the Mattmark See that have +from time to time devastated the valley of Saas. <a +name="citation15"></a><a href="#footnote15" +class="citation">[15]</a> It is probable that the chapels +were decided upon in consequence of some grace shown by the +miraculous picture of the Virgin, which had mitigated a disaster +occurring so soon after the anniversary of her own +Nativity. Tabachetti, arriving at this juncture, may have +offered to undertake them if the Saas people would give him an +asylum. Here, at any rate, I suppose him to have stayed +till some time in 1590, probably the second half of it, his +design of eventually returning home, if he ever entertained it, +being then interrupted by a summons to Crea near Casale, where I +believe him to have worked with a few brief interruptions +thenceforward for little if at all short of half a century, or +until about the year 1640. I admit, however, that the +evidence for assigning him so long a life rests solely on the +supposed identity of the figure known as “Il +Vecchietto,” in the Varallo Descent from the Cross chapel, +with the portrait of Tabachetti himself in the Ecce Homo chapel, +also at Varallo.</p> +<p>I find additional reason for thinking the chapels owe their +origin to the inundation of September 9, 1589, in the fact that +the 8th of September is made a day of pilgrimage to the +Saas-Fée chapels throughout the whole valley of +Saas. It is true the 8th of September is the festival of +the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, so that under any circumstances +this would be a great day, but the fact that not only the people +of Saas, but the whole valley down to Visp, flock to this chapel +on the 8th of September, points to the belief that some special +act of grace on the part of the Virgin was vouchsafed on this day +in connection with this chapel. A belief that it was owing +to the intervention of St. Mary of Fée that the inundation +was not attended with loss of life would be very likely to lead +to the foundation of a series of chapels leading up to the place +where her miraculous picture was placed, and to the more special +celebration of her Nativity in connection with this spot +throughout the valley of Saas. I have discussed the subject +with the Rev. Jos. Ant. Ruppen, and he told me he thought the +fact that the great <i>fête</i> of the year in connection +with the Saas-Fée chapels was on the 8th of September +pointed rather strongly to the supposition that there was a +connection between these and the recorded flood of September 9, +1589.</p> +<p>Turning to the individual chapels they are as +follows:—</p> +<p>1. The Annunciation. The treatment here presents +no more analogy to that of the same subject at Varallo than is +inevitable in the nature of the subject. The Annunciation +figures at Varallo have proved to be mere draped dummies with +wooden heads; Tabachetti, even though he did the heads, which he +very likely did, would take no interest in the Varallo work with +the same subject. The Annunciation, from its very +simplicity as well as from the transcendental nature of the +subject, is singularly hard to treat, and the work here, whatever +it may once have been, is now no longer remarkable.</p> +<p>2. The Salutation of Mary by Elizabeth. This +group, again, bears no analogy to the Salutation chapel at +Varallo, in which Tabachetti’s share was so small that it +cannot be considered as in any way his. It is not to be +expected, therefore, that the Saas chapel should follow the +Varallo one. The figures, four in number, are pleasing and +well arranged. St. Joseph, St. Elizabeth, and St. Zacharias +are all talking at once. The Virgin is alone silent.</p> +<p>3. The Nativity is much damaged and hard to see. +The treatment bears no analogy to that adopted by Gaudenzio +Ferrari at Varallo. There is one pleasing young shepherd +standing against the wall, but some figures have no doubt (as in +others of the chapels) disappeared, and those that remain have +been so shifted from their original positions that very little +idea can be formed of what the group was like when Tabachetti +left it.</p> +<p>4. The Purification. I can hardly say why this +chapel should remind me, as it does, of the Circumcision chapel +at Varallo, for there are more figures here than space at Varallo +will allow. It cannot be pretended that any single figure +is of extraordinary merit, but amongst them they tell their story +with excellent effect. Two, those of St. Joseph and St. +Anna (?), that doubtless were once more important factors in the +drama, are now so much in corners near the window that they can +hardly be seen.</p> +<p>5. The Dispute in the Temple. This subject is not +treated at Varallo. Here at Saas there are only six doctors +now; whether or no there were originally more cannot be +determined.</p> +<p>6. The Agony in the Garden. Tabachetti had no +chapel with this subject at Varallo, and there is no resemblance +between the Saas chapel and that by D’Enrico. The +figures are no doubt approximately in their original positions, +but I have no confidence that I have rearranged them +correctly. They were in such confusion when I first saw +them that the Rev. E. J. Selwyn and myself determined to +rearrange them. They have doubtless been shifted more than +once since Tabachetti left them. The sleeping figures are +all good. St. James is perhaps a little prosaic. One +Roman soldier who is coming into the garden with a lantern, and +motioning silence with his hand, does duty for the others that +are to follow him. I should think more than one of these +figures is actually carved in wood by Tabachetti, allowance being +made for the fact that he was working in a material with which he +was not familiar, and which no sculptor of the highest rank has +ever found congenial.</p> +<p>7. The Flagellation. Tabachetti has a chapel with +this subject at Varallo, and the Saas group is obviously a +descent with modification from his work there. The figure +of Christ is so like the one at Varallo that I think it must have +been carved by Tabachetti himself. The man with the hooked +nose, who at Varallo is stooping to bind his rods, is here +upright: it was probably the intention to emphasise him in the +succeeding scenes as well as this, in the same way as he has been +emphasised at Varallo, but his nose got pared down in the cutting +of later scenes, and could not easily be added to. The man +binding Christ to the column at Varallo is repeated (<i>longo +intervallo</i>) here, and the whole work is one inspired by that +at Varallo, though no single figure except that of the Christ is +adhered to with any very great closeness. I think the +nearer malefactor, with a goitre, and wearing a large black hat, +is either an addition of the year 1709, or was done by the +journeyman of the local sculptor who carved the greater number of +the figures. The man stooping down to bind his rods can +hardly be by the same hand as either of the two black-hatted +malefactors, but it is impossible to speak with certainty. +The general effect of the chapel is excellent, if we consider the +material in which it is executed, and the rudeness of the +audience to whom it addresses itself.</p> +<p>8. The Crowning with Thorns. Here again the +inspiration is derived from Tabachetti’s Crowning with +Thorns at Varallo. The Christs in the two chapels are +strikingly alike, and the general effect is that of a residuary +impression left in the mind of one who had known the Varallo +Flagellation exceedingly well.</p> +<p>9. Sta. Veronica. This and the next succeeding +chapels are the most important of the series. +Tabachetti’s Journey to Calvary at Varallo is again the +source from which the present work was taken, but, as I have +already said, it has been modified in reproduction. Mount +Calvary is still shown, as at Varallo, towards the left-hand +corner of the work, but at Saas it is more towards the middle +than at Varallo, so that horsemen and soldiers may be seen coming +up behind it—a stroke that deserves the name of genius none +the less for the manifest imperfection with which it has been +carried into execution. There are only three horses fully +shown, and one partly shown. They are all of the heavy +Flemish type adopted by Tabachetti at Varallo. The man +kicking the fallen Christ and the goitred man (with the same +teeth missing), who are so conspicuous in the Varallo Journey to +Calvary, reappear here, only the kicking man has much less nose +than at Varallo, probably because (as explained) the nose got +whittled away and could not be whittled back again. I +observe that the kind of lapelled tunic which Tabachetti, and +only Tabachetti, adopts at Varallo, is adopted for the centurion +in this chapel, and indeed throughout the Saas chapels this +particular form of tunic is the most usual for a Roman +soldier. The work is still a very striking one, +notwithstanding its translation into wood and the decay into +which it has been allowed to fall; nor can it fail to impress the +visitor who is familiar with this class of art as coming from a +man of extraordinary dramatic power and command over the almost +impossible art of composing many figures together effectively in +all-round sculpture. Whether all the figures are even now +as Tabachetti left them I cannot determine, but Mr. Selwyn has +restored Simon the Cyrenian to the position in which he obviously +ought to stand, and between us we have got the chapel into +something more like order.</p> +<p>10. The Crucifixion. This subject was treated at +Varallo not by Tabachetti but by Gaudenzio Ferrari. It +confirms therefore my opinion as to the designer of the Saas +chapels to find in them no trace of the Varallo Crucifixion, +while the kind of tunic which at Varallo is only found in chapels +wherein Tabachetti worked again appears here. The work is +in a deplorable state of decay. Mr. Selwyn has greatly +improved the arrangement of the figures, but even now they are +not, I imagine, quite as Tabachetti left them. The figure +of Christ is greatly better in technical execution than that of +either of the two thieves; the folds of the drapery alone will +show this even to an unpractised eye. I do not think there +can be a doubt but that Tabachetti cut this figure himself, as +also those of the Magdalene and St. John, who stand at the foot +of the cross. The thieves are coarsely executed, with no +very obvious distinction between the penitent and the impenitent +one, except that there is a fiend painted on the ceiling over the +impenitent thief. The one horse introduced into the +composition is again of the heavy Flemish type adopted by +Tabachetti at Varallo. There is great difference in the +care with which the folds on the several draperies have been cut, +some being stiff and poor enough, while others are done very +sufficiently. In spite of smallness of scale, ignoble +material, disarrangement and decay, the work is still +striking.</p> +<p>11. The Resurrection. There being no chapel at +Varallo with any of the remaining subjects treated at Saas, the +sculptor has struck out a line for himself. The Christ in +the Resurrection Chapel is a carefully modelled figure, and if +better painted might not be ineffective. Three soldiers, +one sleeping, alone remain. There were probably other +figures that have been lost. The sleeping soldier is very +pleasing.</p> +<p>12. The Ascension is not remarkably interesting; the +Christ appears to be, but perhaps is not, a much more modern +figure than the rest.</p> +<p>18. The Descent of the Holy Ghost. Some of the +figures along the end wall are very good, and were, I should +imagine, cut by Tabachetti himself. Those against the two +side walls are not so well cut.</p> +<p>14. The Assumption of the Virgin Mary. The two +large cherubs here are obviously by a later hand, and the small +ones are not good. The figure of the Virgin herself is +unexceptionable. There were doubtless once other figures of +the Apostles which have disappeared; of these a single St. Peter +(?), so hidden away in a corner near the window that it can only +be seen with difficulty, is the sole survivor.</p> +<p>15. The Coronation of the Virgin is of later date, and +has probably superseded an earlier work. It can hardly be +by the designer of the other chapels of the series. Perhaps +Tabachetti had to leave for Crea before all the chapels at Saas +were finished.</p> +<p>Lastly, we have the larger chapel dedicated to St. Mary, which +crowns the series. Here there is nothing of more than +common artistic interest, unless we except the stone altar +mentioned in Ruppen’s chronicle. This is of course +classical in style, and is, I should think, very good.</p> +<p>Once more I must caution the reader against expecting to find +highly-finished gems of art in the chapels I have been +describing. A wooden figure not more than two feet high +clogged with many coats of paint can hardly claim to be taken +very seriously, and even those few that were cut by Tabachetti +himself were not meant to have attention concentrated on +themselves alone. As mere wood-carving the Saas-Fée +chapels will not stand comparison, for example, with the triptych +of unknown authorship in the Church of St. Anne at Gliss, close +to Brieg. But, in the first place, the work at Gliss is +worthy of Holbein himself: I know no wood-carving that can so +rivet the attention; moreover it is coloured with water-colour +and not oil, so that it is tinted, not painted; and, in the +second place, the Gliss triptych belongs to a date (1519) when +artists held neither time nor impressionism as objects, and +hence, though greatly better than the Saas-Fée chapels as +regards a certain Japanese curiousness of finish and +<i>naïveté</i> of literal transcription, it cannot +even enter the lists with the Saas work as regards +<i>élan</i> and dramatic effectiveness. The +difference between the two classes of work is much that between, +say, John Van Eyck or Memling and Rubens or Rembrandt, or, again, +between Giovanni Bellini and Tintoretto; the aims of the one +class of work are incompatible with those of the other. +Moreover, in the Gliss triptych the intention of the designer is +carried out (whether by himself or no) with admirable skill; +whereas at Saas the wisdom of the workman is rather of +Ober-Ammergau than of the Egyptians, and the voice of the poet is +not a little drowned in that of his mouthpiece. If, +however, the reader will bear in mind these somewhat obvious +considerations, and will also remember the pathetic circumstances +under which the chapels were designed—for Tabachetti when +he reached Saas was no doubt shattered in body and mind by his +four years’ imprisonment—he will probably be not less +attracted to them than I observed were many of the visitors both +at Saas-Grund and Saas-Fée with whom I had the pleasure of +examining them.</p> +<p>I will now run briefly through the other principal works in +the neighbourhood to which I think the reader would be glad to +have his attention directed.</p> +<p>At Saas-Fée itself the main altar-piece is without +interest, as also one with a figure of St. Sebastian. The +Virgin and Child above the remaining altar are, so far as I +remember them, very good, and greatly superior to the smaller +figures of the same altar-piece.</p> +<p>At Almagel, an hour’s walk or so above +Saas-Grund—a village, the name of which, like those of the +Alphubel, the Monte Moro, and more than one other neighbouring +site, is supposed to be of Saracenic origin—the main +altar-piece represents a female saint with folded arms being +beheaded by a vigorous man to the left. These two figures +are very good. There are two somewhat inferior elders to +the right, and the composition is crowned by the Assumption of +the Virgin. I like the work, but have no idea who did +it. Two bishops flanking the composition are not so +good. There are two other altars in the church: the +right-hand one has some pleasing figures, not so the +left-hand.</p> +<p>In St. Joseph’s Chapel, on the mule-road between +Saas-Grund and Saas-Fée, the St. Joseph and the two +children are rather nice. In the churches and chapels which +I looked into between Saas and Stalden, I saw many florid +extravagant altar-pieces, but nothing that impressed me +favourably.</p> +<p>In the parish church at Saas-Grund there are two altar-pieces +which deserve attention. In the one over the main altar the +arrangement of the Last Supper in a deep recess half-way up the +composition is very pleasing and effective; in that above the +right-hand altar of the two that stand in the body of the church +there are a number of round lunettes, about eight inches in +diameter, each containing a small but spirited group of wooden +figures. I have lost my notes on these altar-pieces and can +only remember that the main one has been restored, and now +belongs to two different dates, the earlier date being, I should +imagine, about 1670. A similar treatment of the Last Supper +may be found near Brieg in the church of Naters, and no doubt the +two altar-pieces are by the same man. There are, by the +way, two very ambitious altars on either side the main arch +leading to the chance in the church at Naters, of which the one +on the south side contains obvious reminiscences of Gaudenzio +Ferrari’s Sta. Maria frescoes at Varallo; but none of +the four altar-pieces in the two transepts tempted me to give +them much attention. As regards the smaller altar-piece at +Saas-Grund, analogous work may be found at Cravagliana, half-way +between Varallo and Fobello, but this last has suffered through +the inveterate habit which Italians have of showing their hatred +towards the enemies of Christ by mutilating the figures that +represent them. Whether the Saas work is by a Valsesian +artist who came over to Switzerland, or whether the Cravagliana +work is by a Swiss who had come to Italy, I cannot say without +further consideration and closer examination than I have been +able to give. The altar-pieces of Mairengo, Chiggiogna, +and, I am told, Lavertezzo, all in the Canton Ticino, are by a +Swiss or German artist who has migrated southward; but the +reverse migration was equally common.</p> +<p>Being in the neighbourhood, and wishing to assure myself +whether the sculptor of the Saas-Fée chapels had or had +not come lower down the valley, I examined every church and +village which I could hear of as containing anything that might +throw light on this point. I was thus led to Vispertimenen, +a village some three hours above either Visp or Stalden. It +stands very high, and is an almost untouched example of a +medieval village. The altar-piece of the main church is +even more floridly ambitious in its abundance of carving and +gilding than the many other ambitious altar-pieces with which the +Canton Valais abounds. The Apostles are receiving the Holy +Ghost on the first storey of the composition, and they certainly +are receiving it with an overjoyed alacrity and hilarious ecstasy +of <i>allegria spirituale</i> which it would not be easy to +surpass. Above the village, reaching almost to the limits +beyond which there is no cultivation, there stands a series of +chapels like those I have been describing at Saas-Fée, +only much larger and more ambitious. They are twelve in +number, including the church that crowns the series. The +figures they contain are of wood (so I was assured, but I did not +go inside the chapels): they are life-size, and in some chapels +there are as many as a dozen figures. I should think they +belonged to the later half of the last century, and here, one +would say, sculpture touches the ground; at least, it is not easy +to see how cheap exaggeration can sink an art more deeply. +The only things that at all pleased me were a smiling donkey and +an ecstatic cow in the Nativity chapel. Those who are not +allured by the prospect of seeing perhaps the very worst that can +be done in its own line, need not be at the pains of climbing up +to Vispertimenen. Those, on the other hand, who may find +this sufficient inducement will not be disappointed, and they +will enjoy magnificent views of the Weisshorn and the mountains +near the Dom.</p> +<p>I have already referred to the triptych at Gliss. This +is figured in Wolf’s work on Chamonix and the Canton +Valais, but a larger and clearer reproduction of such an +extraordinary work is greatly to be desired. The small +wooden statues above the triptych, as also those above its modern +companion in the south transept, are not less admirable than the +triptych itself. I know of no other like work in wood, and +have no clue whatever as to who the author can have been beyond +the fact that the work is purely German and eminently +Holbeinesque in character.</p> +<p>I was told of some chapels at Rarogne, five or six miles lower +down the valley than Visp. I examined them, and found they +had been stripped of their figures. The few that remained +satisfied me that we have had no loss. Above Brieg there +are two other like series of chapels. I examined the higher +and more promising of the two, but found not one single figure +left. I was told by my driver that the other series, close +to the Pont Napoléon on the Simplon road, had been also +stripped of its figures, and, there being a heavy storm at the +time, have taken his word for it that this was so.</p> +<h2>THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE <a name="citation16"></a><a +href="#footnote16" class="citation">[16]</a></h2> +<p>Three well-known writers, Professor Max Müller, Professor +Mivart, and Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace have lately maintained that +though the theory of descent with modification accounts for the +development of all vegetable life, and of all animals lower than +man, yet that man cannot—not at least in respect of the +whole of his nature—be held to have descended from any +animal lower than himself, inasmuch as none lower than man +possesses even the germs of language. Reason, it is +contended—more especially by Professor Max Müller in +his “Science of Thought,” to which I propose +confining our attention this evening—is so inseparably +connected with language, that the two are in point of fact +identical; hence it is argued that, as the lower animals have no +germs of language, they can have no germs of reason, and the +inference is drawn that man cannot be conceived as having derived +his own reasoning powers and command of language through descent +from beings in which no germ of either can be found. The +relations therefore between thought and language, interesting in +themselves, acquire additional importance from the fact of their +having become the battle-ground between those who say that the +theory of descent breaks down with man, and those who maintain +that we are descended from some ape-like ancestor long since +extinct.</p> +<p>The contention of those who refuse to admit man unreservedly +into the scheme of evolution is comparatively recent. The +great propounders of evolution, Buffon, Erasmus Darwin and +Lamarck—not to mention a score of others who wrote at the +close of the last and early part of this present +century—had no qualms about admitting man into their +system. They have been followed in this respect by the late +Mr. Charles Darwin, and by the greatly more influential part of +our modern biologists, who hold that whatever loss of dignity we +may incur through being proved to be of humble origin, is +compensated by the credit we may claim for having advanced +ourselves to such a high pitch of civilisation; this bids us +expect still further progress, and glorifies our descendants more +than it abases our ancestors. But to whichever view we may +incline on sentimental grounds the fact remains that, while +Charles Darwin declared language to form no impassable barrier +between man and the lower animals, Professor Max Müller +calls it the Rubicon which no brute dare cross, and deduces hence +the conclusion that man cannot have descended from an unknown but +certainly speechless ape.</p> +<p>It may perhaps be expected that I should begin a lecture on +the relations between thought and language with some definition +of both these things; but thought, as Sir William Grove said of +motion, is a phenomenon “so obvious to simple apprehension, +that to define it would make it more obscure.” <a +name="citation17"></a><a href="#footnote17" +class="citation">[17]</a> Definitions are useful where +things are new to us, but they are superfluous about those that +are already familiar, and mischievous, so far as they are +possible at all, in respect of all those things that enter so +profoundly and intimately into our being that in them we must +either live or bear no life. To vivisect the more vital +processes of thought is to suspend, if not to destroy them; for +thought can think about everything more healthily and easily than +about itself. It is like its instrument the brain, which +knows nothing of any injuries inflicted upon itself. As +regards what is new to us, a definition will sometimes dilute a +difficulty, and help us to swallow that which might choke us +undiluted; but to define when we have once well swallowed is to +unsettle, rather than settle, our digestion. Definitions, +again, are like steps cut in a steep slope of ice, or shells +thrown on to a greasy pavement; they give us foothold, and enable +us to advance, but when we are at our journey’s end we want +them no longer. Again, they are useful as mental fluxes, +and as helping us to fuse new ideas with our older ones. +They present us with some tags and ends of ideas that we have +already mastered, on to which we can hitch our new ones; but to +multiply them in respect of such a matter as thought, is like +scratching the bite of a gnat; the more we scratch the more we +want to scratch; the more we define the more we shall have to go +on defining the words we have used in our definitions, and shall +end by setting up a serious mental raw in the place of a small +uneasiness that was after all quite endurable. We know too +well what thought is, to be able to know that we know it, and I +am persuaded there is no one in this room but understands what is +meant by thought and thinking well enough for all the purposes of +this discussion. Whoever does not know this without words +will not learn it for all the words and definitions that are laid +before him. The more, indeed, he hears, the more confused +he will become. I shall, therefore, merely premise that I +use the word “thought” in the same sense as that in +which it is generally used by people who say that they think this +or that. At any rate, it will be enough if I take Professor +Max Müller’s own definition, and say that its essence +consists in a bringing together of mental images and ideas with +deductions therefrom, and with a corresponding power of detaching +them from one another. Hobbes, the Professor tells us, +maintained this long ago, when he said that all our thinking +consists of addition and subtraction—that is to say, in +bringing ideas together, and in detaching them from one +another.</p> +<p>Turning from thought to language, we observe that the word is +derived from the French <i>langue</i>, or <i>tongue</i>. +Strictly, therefore, it means <i>tonguage</i>. This, +however, takes account of but a very small part of the ideas that +underlie the word. It does, indeed, seize a familiar and +important detail of everyday speech, though it may be doubted +whether the tongue has more to do with speaking than lips, teeth +and throat have, but it makes no attempt at grasping and +expressing the essential characteristic of speech. Anything +done with the tongue, even though it involve no speaking at all, +is <i>tonguage</i>; eating oranges is as much tonguage as speech +is. The word, therefore, though it tells us in part how +speech is effected, reveals nothing of that ulterior meaning +which is nevertheless inseparable from any right use of the words +either “speech” or “language.” It +presents us with what is indeed a very frequent adjunct of +conversation, but the use of written characters, or the +finger-speech of deaf mutes, is enough to show that the word +“language” omits all reference to the most essential +characteristics of the idea, which in practice it nevertheless +very sufficiently presents to us. I hope presently to make +it clear to you how and why it should do so. The word is +incomplete in the first place, because it omits all reference to +the ideas which words, speech or language are intended to convey, +and there can be no true word without its actually or potentially +conveying an idea. Secondly, it makes no allusion to the +person or persons to whom the ideas are to be conveyed. +Language is not language unless it not only expresses fairly +definite and coherent ideas, but unless it also conveys these +ideas to some other living intelligent being, either man or +brute, that can understand them. We may speak to a dog or +horse, but not to a stone. If we make pretence of doing so +we are in reality only talking to ourselves. The person or +animal spoken to is half the battle—a half, moreover, which +is essential to there being any battle at all. It takes two +people to say a thing—a sayee as well as a sayer. The +one is as essential to any true saying as the other. A. may +have spoken, but if B. has not heard, there has been nothing +said, and he must speak again. True, the belief on +A.’s part that he had a <i>bonâ fide</i> sayee in B., +saves his speech quâ him, but it has been barren and left +no fertile issue. It has failed to fulfil the conditions of +true speech, which involve not only that A. should speak, but +also that B. should hear. True, again, we often speak of +loose, incoherent, indefinite language; but by doing so we imply, +and rightly, that we are calling that language which is not true +language at all. People, again, sometimes talk to +themselves without intending that any other person should hear +them, but this is not well done, and does harm to those who +practise it. It is abnormal, whereas our concern is with +normal and essential characteristics; we may, therefore, neglect +both delirious babblings, and the cases in which a person is +regarding him or herself, as it were, from outside, and treating +himself as though he were some one else.</p> +<p>Inquiring, then, what are the essentials, the presence of +which constitutes language, while their absence negatives it +altogether, we find that Professor Max Müller restricts them +to the use of grammatical articulate words that we can write or +speak, and denies that anything can be called language unless it +can be written or spoken in articulate words and sentences. +He also denies that we can think at all unless we do so in words; +that is to say, in sentences with verbs and nouns. Indeed +he goes so far as to say upon his title-page that there can be no +reason—which I imagine comes to much the same thing as +thought—without language, and no language without +reason.</p> +<p>Against the assertion that there can be no true language +without reason I have nothing to say. But when the +Professor says that there can be no reason, or thought, without +language, his opponents contend, as it seems to me, with greater +force, that thought, though infinitely aided, extended and +rendered definite through the invention of words, nevertheless +existed so fully as to deserve no other name thousands, if not +millions of years before words had entered into it at all. +Words, they say, are a comparatively recent invention, for the +fuller expression of something that was already in existence.</p> +<p>Children, they urge, are often evidently thinking and +reasoning, though they can neither think nor speak in +words. If you ask me to define reason, I answer as before +that this can no more be done than thought, truth or motion can +be defined. Who has answered the question, “What is +truth?” Man cannot see God and live. We cannot +go so far back upon ourselves as to undermine our own +foundations; if we try to do we topple over, and lose that very +reason about which we vainly try to reason. If we let the +foundations be, we know well enough that they are there, and we +can build upon them in all security. We cannot, then, +define reason nor crib, cabin and confine it within a +thus-far-shalt-thou-go-and-no-further. Who can define heat +or cold, or night or day? Yet, so long as we hold fast by +current consent, our chances of error for want of better +definition are so small that no sensible person will consider +them. In like manner, if we hold by current consent or +common sense, which is the same thing, about reason, we shall not +find the want of an academic definition hinder us from a +reasonable conclusion. What nurse or mother will doubt that +her infant child can reason within the limits of its own +experience, long before it can formulate its reason in +articulately worded thought? If the development of any +given animal is, as our opponents themselves admit, an epitome of +the history of its whole anterior development, surely the fact +that speech is an accomplishment acquired after birth so +artificially that children who have gone wild in the woods lose +it if they have ever learned it, points to the conclusion that +man’s ancestors only learned to express themselves in +articulate language at a comparatively recent period. +Granted that they learn to think and reason continually the more +and more fully for having done so, will common sense permit us to +suppose that they could neither think nor reason at all till they +could convey their ideas in words?</p> +<p>I will return later to the reason of the lower animals, but +will now deal with the question what it is that constitutes +language in the most comprehensive sense that can be properly +attached to it. I have said already that language to be +language at all must not only convey fairly definite coherent +ideas, but must also convey them to another living being. +Whenever two living beings have conveyed and received ideas, +there has been language, whether looks or gestures or words +spoken or written have been the vehicle by means of which the +ideas have travelled. Some ideas crawl, some run, some fly; +and in this case words are the wings they fly with, but they are +only the wings of thought or of ideas, they are not the thought +or ideas themselves, nor yet, as Professor Max Müller would +have it, inseparably connected with them. Last summer I was +at an inn in Sicily, where there was a deaf and dumb waiter; he +had been born so, and could neither write nor read. What +had he to do with words or words with him? Are we to say, +then, that this most active, amiable and intelligent fellow could +neither think nor reason? One day I had had my dinner and +had left the hotel. A friend came in, and the waiter saw +him look for me in the place I generally occupied. He +instantly came up to my friend, and moved his two forefingers in +a way that suggested two people going about together, this meant +“your friend”; he then moved his forefingers +horizontally across his eyes, this meant, “who wears +divided spectacles”; he made two fierce marks over the +sockets of his eyes, this meant, “with the heavy +eyebrows”; he pulled his chin, and then touched his white +shirt, to say that my beard was white. Having thus +identified me as a friend of the person he was speaking to, and +as having a white beard, heavy eyebrows, and wearing divided +spectacles, he made a munching movement with his jaws to say that +I had had my dinner; and finally, by making two fingers imitate +walking on the table, he explained that I had gone away. My +friend, however, wanted to know how long I had been gone, so he +pulled out his watch and looked inquiringly. The man at +once slapped himself on the back, and held up the five fingers of +one hand, to say it was five minutes ago. All this was done +as rapidly as though it had been said in words; and my friend, +who knew the man well, understood without a moment’s +hesitation. Are we to say that this man had no thought, nor +reason, nor language, merely because he had not a single word of +any kind in his head, which I am assured he had not; for, as I +have said, he could not speak with his fingers? Is it +possible to deny that a dialogue—an intelligent +conversation—had passed between the two men? And if +conversation, then surely it is technical and pedantic to deny +that all the essential elements of language were present. +The signs and tokens used by this poor fellow were as rude an +instrument of expression, in comparison with ordinary language, +as going on one’s hands and knees is in comparison with +walking, or as walking compared with going by train; but it is as +great an abuse of words to limit the word “language” +to mere words written or spoken, as it would be to limit the idea +of a locomotive to a railway engine. This may indeed pass +in ordinary conversation, where so much must be suppressed if +talk is to be got through at all, but it is intolerable when we +are inquiring about the relations between thought and +words. To do so is to let words become as it were the +masters of thought, on the ground that the fact of their being +only its servants and appendages is so obvious that it is +generally allowed to go without saying.</p> +<p>If all that Professor Max Müller means to say is, that no +animal but man commands an articulate language, with verbs and +nouns, or is ever likely to command one (and I question whether +in reality he means much more than this), no one will differ from +him. No dog or elephant has one word for bread, another for +meat, and another for water. Yet, when we watch a cat or +dog dreaming, as they often evidently do, can we doubt that the +dream is accompanied by a mental image of the thing that is +dreamed of, much like what we experience in dreams ourselves, and +much doubtless like the mental images which must have passed +through the mind of my deaf and dumb waiter? If they have +mental images in sleep, can we doubt that waking, also, they +picture things before their mind’s eyes, and see them much +as we do—too vaguely indeed to admit of our thinking that +we actually see the objects themselves, but definitely enough for +us to be able to recognise the idea or object of which we are +thinking, and to connect it with any other idea, object, or sign +that we may think appropriate?</p> +<p>Here we have touched on the second essential element of +language. We laid it down, that its essence lay in the +communication of an idea from one intelligent being to another; +but no ideas can be communicated at all except by the aid of +conventions to which both parties have agreed to attach an +identical meaning. The agreement may be very informal, and +may pass so unconsciously from one generation to another that its +existence can only be recognised by the aid of much +introspection, but it will be always there. A sayer, a +sayee, and a convention, no matter what, agreed upon between them +as inseparably attached to the idea which it is intended to +convey—these comprise all the essentials of language. +Where these are present there is language; where any of them are +wanting there is no language. It is not necessary for the +sayee to be able to speak and become a sayer. If he +comprehends the sayer—that is to say, if he attaches the +same meaning to a certain symbol as the sayer does—if he is +a party to the bargain whereby it is agreed upon by both that any +given symbol shall be attached invariably to a certain idea, so +that in virtue of the principle of associated ideas the symbol +shall never be present without immediately carrying the idea +along with it, then all the essentials of language are complied +with, and there has been true speech though never a word was +spoken.</p> +<p>The lower animals, therefore, many of them, possess a part of +our own language, though they cannot speak it, and hence do not +possess it so fully as we do. They cannot say +“bread,” “meat,” or “water,” +but there are many that readily learn what ideas they ought to +attach to these symbols when they are presented to them. It +is idle to say that a cat does not know what the cat’s-meat +man means when he says “meat.” The cat knows +just as well, neither better nor worse than the cat’s-meat +man does, and a great deal better than I myself understand much +that is said by some very clever people at Oxford or +Cambridge. There is more true employment of language, more +<i>bonâ fide</i> currency of speech, between a sayer and a +sayee who understand each other, though neither of them can speak +a word, than between a sayer who can speak with the tongues of +men and of angels without being clear about his own meaning, and +a sayee who can himself utter the same words, but who is only in +imperfect agreement with the sayer as to the ideas which the +words or symbols that he utters are intended to convey. The +nature of the symbols counts for nothing; the gist of the matter +is in the perfect harmony between sayer and sayee as to the +significance that is to be associated with them.</p> +<p>Professor Max Müller admits that we share with the lower +animals what he calls an emotional language, and continues that +we may call their interjections and imitations language if we +like, as we speak of the language of the eyes or the eloquence of +mute nature, but he warns us against mistaking metaphor for +fact. It is indeed mere metaphor to talk of the eloquence +of mute nature, or the language of winds and waves. There +is no intercommunion of mind with mind by means of a covenanted +symbol; but it is only an apparent, not a real, metaphor to say +that two pairs of eyes have spoken when they have signalled to +one another something which they both understand. A +schoolboy at home for the holidays wants another plate of +pudding, and does not like to apply officially for more. He +catches the servant’s eye and looks at the pudding; the +servant understands, takes his plate without a word, and gets him +some. Is it metaphor to say that the boy asked the servant +to do this, or is it not rather pedantry to insist on the letter +of a bond and deny its spirit, by denying that language passed, +on the ground that the symbols covenanted upon and assented to by +both were uttered and received by eyes and not by mouth and +ears? When the lady drank to the gentleman only with her +eyes, and he pledged with his, was there no conversation because +there was neither noun nor verb? Eyes are verbs, and +glasses of wine are good nouns enough as between those who +understand one another. Whether the ideas underlying them +are expressed and conveyed by eyeage or by tonguage is a detail +that matters nothing.</p> +<p>But everything we say is metaphorical if we choose to be +captious. Scratch the simplest expressions, and you will +find the metaphor. Written words are handage, inkage and +paperage; it is only by metaphor, or substitution and +transposition of ideas, that we can call them language. +They are indeed potential language, and the symbols employed +presuppose nouns, verbs, and the other parts of speech; but for +the most part it is in what we read between the lines that the +profounder meaning of any letter is conveyed. There are +words unwritten and untranslatable into any nouns that are +nevertheless felt as above, about and underneath the gross +material symbols that lie scrawled upon the paper; and the deeper +the feeling with which anything is written the more pregnant will +it be of meaning which can be conveyed securely enough, but which +loses rather than gains if it is squeezed into a sentence, and +limited by the parts of speech. The language is not in the +words but in the heart-to-heartness of the thing, which is helped +by words, but is nearer and farther than they. A +correspondent wrote to me once, many years ago, “If I could +think to you without words you would understand me +better.” But surely in this he was thinking to me, +and without words, and I did understand him better . . . So +it is not by the words that I am too presumptuously venturing to +speak to-night that your opinions will be formed or +modified. They will be formed or modified, if either, by +something that you will feel, but which I have not spoken, to the +full as much as by anything that I have actually uttered. +You may say that this borders on mysticism. Perhaps it +does, but their really is some mysticism in nature.</p> +<p>To return, however, to <i>terra firma</i>. I believe I +am right in saying that the essence of language lies in the +intentional conveyance of ideas from one living being to another +through the instrumentality of arbitrary tokens or symbols agreed +upon, and understood by both as being associated with the +particular ideas in question. The nature of the symbol +chosen is a matter of indifference; it may be anything that +appeals to human senses, and is not too hot or too heavy; the +essence of the matter lies in a mutual covenant that whatever it +is it shall stand invariably for the same thing, or nearly +so.</p> +<p>We shall see this more easily if we observe the differences +between written and spoken language. The written word +“stone,” and the spoken word, are each of them +symbols arrived at in the first instance arbitrarily. They +are neither of them more like the other than they are to the idea +of a stone which rises before our minds, when we either see or +hear the word, or than this idea again is like the actual stone +itself, but nevertheless the spoken symbol and the written one +each alike convey with certainty the combination of ideas to +which we have agreed to attach them.</p> +<p>The written symbol is formed with the hand, appeals to the +eye, leaves a material trace as long as paper and ink last, can +travel as far as paper and ink can travel, and can be imprinted +on eye after eye practically <i>ad infinitum</i> both as regards +time and space.</p> +<p>The spoken symbol is formed by means of various organs in or +about the mouth, appeals to the ear, not the eye, perishes +instantly without material trace, and if it lives at all does so +only in the minds of those who heard it. The range of its +action is no wider than that within which a voice can be heard; +and every time a fresh impression is wanted the type must be set +up anew.</p> +<p>The written symbol extends infinitely, as regards time and +space, the range within which one mind can communicate with +another; it gives the writer’s mind a life limited by the +duration of ink, paper, and readers, as against that of his flesh +and blood body. On the other hand, it takes longer to learn +the rules so as to be able to apply them with ease and security, +and even then they cannot be applied so quickly and easily as +those attaching to spoken symbols. Moreover, the spoken +symbol admits of a hundred quick and subtle adjuncts by way of +action, tone and expression, so that no one will use written +symbols unless either for the special advantages of permanence +and travelling power, or because he is incapacitated from using +spoken ones. This, however, is hardly to the point; the +point is that these two conventional combinations of symbols, +that are as unlike one another as the Hallelujah Chorus is to St. +Paul’s Cathedral, are the one as much language as the +other; and we therefore inquire what this very patent fact +reveals to us about the more essential characteristics of +language itself. What is the common bond that unites these +two classes of symbols that seem at first sight to have nothing +in common, and makes the one raise the idea of language in our +minds as readily as the other? The bond lies in the fact +that both are a set of conventional tokens or symbols, agreed +upon between the parties to whom they appeal as being attached +invariably to the same ideas, and because they are being made as +a means of communion between one mind and another,—for a +memorandum made for a person’s own later use is nothing but +a communication from an earlier mind to a later and modified one; +it is therefore in reality a communication from one mind to +another as much as though it had been addressed to another +person.</p> +<p>We see, therefore, that the nature of the outward and visible +sign to which the inward and spiritual idea of language is +attached does not matter. It may be the firing of a gun; it +may be an old semaphore telegraph; it may be the movements of a +needle; a look, a gesture, the breaking of a twig by an Indian to +tell some one that he has passed that way: a twig broken +designedly with this end in view is a letter addressed to +whomsoever it may concern, as much as though it had been written +out in full on bark or paper. It does not matter one straw +what it is, provided it is agreed upon in concert, and stuck +to. Just as the lowest forms of life nevertheless present +us with all the essential characteristics of livingness, and are +as much alive in their own humble way as the most highly +developed organisms, so the rudest intentional and effectual +communication between two minds through the instrumentality of a +concerted symbol is as much language as the most finished oratory +of Mr. Gladstone. I demur therefore to the assertion that +the lower animals have no language, inasmuch as they cannot +themselves articulate a grammatical sentence. I do not +indeed pretend that when the cat calls upon the tiles it uses +what it consciously and introspectively recognises as language; +it says what it has to say without introspection, and in the +ordinary course of business, as one of the common forms of +courtship. It no more knows that it has been using language +than M. Jourdain knew he had been speaking prose, but M. +Jourdain’s knowing or not knowing was neither here nor +there.</p> +<p>Anything which can be made to hitch on invariably to a +definite idea that can carry some distance—say an inch at +the least, and which can be repeated at pleasure, can be pressed +into the service of language. Mrs. Bentley, wife of the +famous Dr. Bentley of Trinity College, Cambridge, used to send +her snuff-box to the college buttery when she wanted beer, +instead of a written order. If the snuff-box came the beer +was sent, but if there was no snuff-box there was no beer. +Wherein did the snuff-box differ more from a written order, than +a written order differs from a spoken one? The snuff-box +was for the time being language. It sounds strange to say +that one might take a pinch of snuff out of a sentence, but if +the servant had helped him or herself to a pinch while carrying +it to the buttery this is what would have been done; for if a +snuff-box can say “Send me a quart of beer,” so +efficiently that the beer is sent, it is impossible to say that +it is not a <i>bonâ fide</i> sentence. As for the +recipient of the message, the butler did not probably translate +the snuff-box into articulate nouns and verbs; as soon as he saw +it he just went down into the cellar and drew the beer, and if he +thought at all, it was probably about something else. Yet +he must have been thinking without words, or he would have drawn +too much beer or too little, or have spilt it in the bringing it +up, and we may be sure that he did none of these things.</p> +<p>You will, of course, observe that if Mrs. Bentley had sent the +snuff-box to the buttery of St. John’s College instead of +Trinity, it would not have been language, for there would have +been no covenant between sayer and sayee as to what the symbol +should represent, there would have been no previously established +association of ideas in the mind of the butler of St. +John’s between beer and snuff-box; the connection was +artificial, arbitrary, and by no means one of those in respect of +which an impromptu bargain might be proposed by the very symbol +itself, and assented to without previous formality by the person +to whom it was presented. More briefly, the butler of St. +John’s would not have been able to understand and read it +aright. It would have been a dead letter to him—a +snuff-box and not a letter; whereas to the butler of Trinity it +was a letter and not a snuff-box.</p> +<p>You will also note that it was only at the moment when he was +looking at it and accepting it as a message that it flashed forth +from snuff-box-hood into the light and life of living +utterance. As soon as it had kindled the butler into +sending a single quart of beer, its force was spent until Mrs. +Bentley threw her soul into it again and charged it anew by +wanting more beer, and sending it down accordingly.</p> +<p>Again, take the ring which the Earl of Essex sent to Queen +Elizabeth, but which the queen did not receive. This was +intended as a sentence, but failed to become effectual language +because the sensible material symbol never reached those sentient +organs which it was intended to affect. A book, again, +however full of excellent words it may be, is not language when +it is merely standing on a bookshelf. It speaks to no one, +unless when being actually read, or quoted from by an act of +memory. It is potential language as a lucifer-match is +potential fire, but it is no more language till it is in contact +with a recipient mind, than a match is fire till it is struck, +and is being consumed.</p> +<p>A piece of music, again, without any words at all, or a song +with words that have nothing in the world to do with the ideas +which it is nevertheless made to convey, is often very effectual +language. Much lying, and all irony depends on tampering +with covenanted symbols, and making those that are usually +associated with one set of ideas convey by a sleight of mind +others of a different nature. That is why irony is +intolerably fatiguing unless very sparingly used. Take the +song which Blondel sang under the window of King Richard’s +prison. There was not one syllable in it to say that +Blondel was there, and was going to help the king to get out of +prison. It was about some silly love affair, but it was a +letter all the same, and the king made language of what would +otherwise have been no language, by guessing the meaning, that is +to say by perceiving that he was expected to enter then and there +into a new covenant as to the meaning of the symbols that were +presented to him, understanding what this covenant was to be, and +acquiescing in it.</p> +<p>On the other hand, no ingenuity can torture language into +being a fit word to use in connection with either sounds or any +other symbols that have not been intended to convey a meaning, or +again in connection with either sounds or symbols in respect of +which there has been no covenant between sayer and sayee. +When we hear people speaking a foreign language—we will say +Welsh—we feel that though they are no doubt using what is +very good language as between themselves, there is no language +whatever as far as we are concerned. We call it lingo, not +language. The Chinese letters on a tea-chest might as well +not be there, for all that they say to us, though the Chinese +find them very much to the purpose. They are a covenant to +which we have been no parties—to which our intelligence has +affixed no signature.</p> +<p>We have already seen that it is in virtue of such an +understood covenant that symbols so unlike one another as the +written word “stone” and the spoken word alike at +once raise the idea of a stone in our minds. See how the +same holds good as regards the different languages that pass +current in different nations. The letters p, i, e, r, r, e +convey the idea of a stone to a Frenchman as readily as s, t, o, +n, e do to ourselves. And why? because that is the covenant +that has been struck between those who speak and those who are +spoken to. Our “stone” conveys no idea to a +Frenchman, nor his “pierre” to us, unless we have +done what is commonly called acquiring one another’s +language. To acquire a foreign language is only to learn +and adhere to the covenants in respect of symbols which the +nation in question has adopted and adheres to.</p> +<p>Till we have done this we neither of us know the rules, so to +speak, of the game that the other is playing, and cannot, +therefore, play together; but the convention being once known and +assented to, it does not matter whether we raise the idea of a +stone by the word “lapis,” or by +“lithos,” “pietra,” “pierre,” +“stein,” “stane” or “stone”; +we may choose what symbols written or spoken we choose, and one +set, unless they are of unwieldy length will do as well as +another, if we can get other people to choose the same and stick +to them; it is the accepting and sticking to them that matters, +not the symbols. The whole power of spoken language is +vested in the invariableness with which certain symbols are +associated with certain ideas. If we are strict in always +connecting the same symbols with the same ideas, we speak well, +keep our meaning clear to ourselves, and convey it readily and +accurately to any one who is also fairly strict. If, on the +other hand, we use the same combination of symbols for one thing +one day and for another the next, we abuse our symbols instead of +using them, and those who indulge in slovenly habits in this +respect ere long lose the power alike of thinking and of +expressing themselves correctly. The symbols, however, in +the first instance, may be anything in the wide world that we +have a fancy for. They have no more to do with the ideas +they serve to convey than money has with the things that it +serves to buy.</p> +<p>The principle of association, as every one knows, involves +that whenever two things have been associated sufficiently +together, the suggestion of one of them to the mind shall +immediately raise a suggestion of the other. It is in +virtue of this principle that language, as we so call it, exists +at all, for the essence of language consists, as I have said +perhaps already too often, in the fixity with which certain ideas +are invariably connected with certain symbols. But this +being so, it is hard to see how we can deny that the lower +animals possess the germs of a highly rude and unspecialised, but +still true language, unless we also deny that they have any ideas +at all; and this I gather is what Professor Max Müller in a +quiet way rather wishes to do. Thus he says, “It is +easy enough to show that animals communicate, but this is a fact +which has never been doubted. Dogs who growl and bark leave +no doubt in the minds of other dogs or cats, or even of man, of +what they mean, but growling and barking are not language, nor do +they even contain the elements of language.” <a +name="citation18"></a><a href="#footnote18" +class="citation">[18]</a></p> +<p>I observe the Professor says that animals communicate without +saying what it is that they communicate. I believe this to +have been because if he said that the lower animals communicate +their ideas, this would be to admit that they have ideas; if so, +and if, as they present every appearance of doing, they can +remember, reflect upon, modify these ideas according to modified +surroundings, and interchange them with one another, how is it +possible to deny them the germs of thought, language, and +reason—not to say a good deal more than the germs? It +seems to me that not knowing what else to say that animals +communicated if it was not ideas, and not knowing what mess he +might not get into if he admitted that they had ideas at all, he +thought it safer to omit his accusative case altogether.</p> +<p>That growling and barking cannot be called a very highly +specialised language goes without saying; they are, however, so +much diversified in character, according to circumstances, that +they place a considerable number of symbols at an animal’s +command, and he invariably attaches the same symbol to the same +idea. A cat never purrs when she is angry, nor spits when +she is pleased. When she rubs her head against any one +affectionately it is her symbol for saying that she is very fond +of him, and she expects, and usually finds that it will be +understood. If she sees her mistress raise her hand as +though to pretend to strike her, she knows that it is the symbol +her mistress invariably attaches to the idea of sending her away, +and as such she accepts it. Granted that the symbols in use +among the lower animals are fewer and less highly differentiated +than in the case of any known human language, and therefore that +animal language is incomparably less subtle and less capable of +expressing delicate shades of meaning than our own, these +differences are nevertheless only those that exist between highly +developed and inchoate language; they do not involve those that +distinguish language from no language. They are the +differences between the undifferentiated protoplasm of the amoeba +and our own complex organisation; they are not the differences +between life and no life. In animal language as much as in +human there is a mind intentionally making use of a symbol +accepted by another mind as invariably attached to a certain +idea, in order to produce that idea in the mind which it is +desired to affect—more briefly, there is a sayer, a sayee, +and a covenanted symbol designedly applied. Our own speech +is vertebrated and articulated by means of nouns, verbs, and the +rules of grammar. A dog’s speech is invertebrate, but +I do not see how it is possible to deny that it possesses all the +essential elements of language.</p> +<p>I have said nothing about Professor R. L. Garner’s +researches into the language of apes, because they have not yet +been so far verified and accepted as to make it safe to rely upon +them; but when he lays it down that all voluntary sounds are the +products of thought, and that, if they convey a meaning to +another, they perform the functions of human speech, he says what +I believe will commend itself to any unsophisticated mind. +I could have wished, however, that he had not limited himself to +sounds, and should have preferred his saying what I doubt not he +would readily accept—I mean, that all symbols or tokens of +whatever kind, if voluntarily adopted as such, are the products +of thought, and perform the functions of human speech; but I +cannot too often remind you that nothing can be considered as +fulfilling the conditions of language, except a voluntary +application of a recognised token in order to convey a more or +less definite meaning, with the intention doubtless of thus +purchasing as it were some other desired meaning and consequent +sensation. It is astonishing how closely in this respect +money and words resemble one another. Money indeed may be +considered as the most universal and expressive of all +languages. For gold and silver coins are no more money when +not in the actual process of being voluntarily used in purchase, +than words not so in use are language. Pounds, shillings +and pence are recognised covenanted tokens, the outward and +visible signs of an inward and spiritual purchasing power, but +till in actual use they are only potential money, as the symbols +of language, whatever they may be, are only potential language +till they are passing between two minds. It is the power +and will to apply the symbols that alone gives life to money, and +as long as these are in abeyance the money is in abeyance also; +the coins may be safe in one’s pocket, but they are as dead +as a log till they begin to burn in it, and so are our words till +they begin to burn within us.</p> +<p>The real question, however, as to the substantial underlying +identity between the language of the lower animals and our own, +turns upon that other question whether or no, in spite of an +immeasurable difference of degree, the thought and reason of man +and of the lower animals is essentially the same. No one +will expect a dog to master and express the varied ideas that are +incessantly arising in connection with human affairs. He is +a pauper as against a millionaire. To ask him to do so +would be like giving a street-boy sixpence and telling him to go +and buy himself a founder’s share in the New River +Company. He would not even know what was meant, and even if +he did it would take several millions of sixpences to buy +one. It is astonishing what a clever workman will do with +very modest tools, or again how far a thrifty housewife will make +a very small sum of money go, or again in like manner how many +ideas an intelligent brute can receive and convey with its very +limited vocabulary; but no one will pretend that a dog’s +intelligence can ever reach the level of a man’s. +What we do maintain is that, within its own limited range, it is +of the same essential character as our own, and that though a +dog’s ideas in respect of human affairs are both vague and +narrow, yet in respect of canine affairs they are precise enough +and extensive enough to deserve no other name than thought or +reason. We hold moreover that they communicate their ideas +in essentially the same manner as we do—that is to say, by +the instrumentality of a code of symbols attached to certain +states of mind and material objects, in the first instance +arbitrarily, but so persistently, that the presentation of the +symbol immediately carries with it the idea which it is intended +to convey. Animals can thus receive and impart ideas on all +that most concerns them. As my great namesake said some two +hundred years ago, they know “what’s what, and +that’s as high as metaphysic wit can fly.” And +they not only know what’s what themselves, but can impart +to one another any new what’s-whatness that they may have +acquired, for they are notoriously able to instruct and correct +one another.</p> +<p>Against this Professor Max Müller contends that we can +know nothing of what goes on in the mind of any lower animal, +inasmuch as we are not lower animals ourselves. “We +can imagine anything we like about what passes in the mind of an +animal,” he writes, “we can know absolutely +nothing.” <a name="citation19"></a><a href="#footnote19" +class="citation">[19]</a> It is something to have it in +evidence that he conceives animals as having a mind at all, but +it is not easy to see how they can be supposed to have a mind, +without being able to acquire ideas, and having acquired, to +read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them. Surely the +mistake of requiring too much evidence is hardly less great than +that of being contented with too little. We, too, are +animals, and can no more refuse to infer reason from certain +visible actions in their case than we can in our own. If +Professor Max Müller’s plea were allowed, we should +have to deny our right to infer confidently what passes in the +mind of any one not ourselves, inasmuch as we are not that +person. We never, indeed, can obtain irrefragable certainty +about this or any other matter, but we can be sure enough in many +cases to warrant our staking all that is most precious to us on +the soundness of our opinion. Moreover, if the Professor +denies our right to infer that animals reason, on the ground that +we are not animals enough ourselves to be able to form an +opinion, with what right does he infer so confidently himself +that they do not reason? And how, if they present every one +of those appearances which we are accustomed to connect with the +communication of an idea from one mind to another, can we deny +that they have a language of their own, though it is one which in +most cases we can neither speak nor understand? How can we +say that a sentinel rook, when it sees a man with a gun and warns +the other rooks by a concerted note which they all show that they +understand by immediately taking flight, should not be credited +both with reason and the germs of language?</p> +<p>After all, a professor, whether of philology, psychology, +biology, or any other ology, is hardly the kind of person to whom +we should appeal on such an elementary question as that of animal +intelligence and language. We might as well ask a botanist +to tell us whether grass grows, or a meteorologist to tell us if +it has left off raining. If it is necessary to appeal to +any one, I should prefer the opinion of an intelligent gamekeeper +to that of any professor, however learned. The keepers, +again, at the Zoological Gardens, have exceptional opportunities +for studying the minds of animals—modified, indeed, by +captivity, but still minds of animals. Grooms, again, and +dog-fanciers, are to the full as able to form an intelligent +opinion on the reason and language of animals as any University +Professor, and so are cats’-meat men. I have +repeatedly asked gamekeepers and keepers at the Zoological +Gardens whether animals could reason and converse with one +another, and have always found myself regarded somewhat +contemptuously for having even asked the question. I once +said to a friend, in the hearing of a keeper at the Zoological +Gardens, that the penguin was very stupid. The man was +furious, and jumped upon me at once. “He’s not +stupid at all,” said he; “he’s very +intelligent.”</p> +<p>Who has not seen a cat, when it wishes to go out, raise its +fore paws on to the handle of the door, or as near as it can get, +and look round, evidently asking some one to turn it for +her? Is it reasonable to deny that a reasoning process is +going on in the cat’s mind, whereby she connects her wish +with the steps necessary for its fulfilment, and also with +certain invariable symbols which she knows her master or mistress +will interpret? Once, in company with a friend, I watched a +cat playing with a house-fly in the window of a ground-floor +room. We were in the street, while the cat was +inside. When we came up to the window she gave us one +searching look, and, having satisfied herself that we had nothing +for her, went on with her game. She knew all about the +glass in the window, and was sure we could do nothing to molest +her, so she treated us with absolute contempt, never even looking +at us again.</p> +<p>The game was this. She was to catch the fly and roll it +round and round under her paw along the window-sill, but so +gently as not to injure it nor prevent it from being able to fly +again when she had done rolling it. It was very early +spring, and flies were scarce, in fact there was not another in +the whole window. She knew that if she crippled this one, +it would not be able to amuse her further, and that she would not +readily get another instead, and she liked the feel of it under +her paw. It was soft and living, and the quivering of its +wings tickled the ball of her foot in a manner that she found +particularly grateful; so she rolled it gently along the whole +length of the window-sill. It then became the fly’s +turn. He was to get up and fly about in the window, so as +to recover himself a little; then she was to catch him again, and +roll him softly all along the window-sill, as she had done +before.</p> +<p>It was plain that the cat knew the rules of her game perfectly +well, and enjoyed it keenly. It was equally plain that the +fly could not make head or tail of what it was all about. +If it had been able to do so it would have gone to play in the +upper part of the window, where the cat could not reach it. +Perhaps it was always hoping to get through the glass, and escape +that way; anyhow, it kept pretty much to the same pane, no matter +how often it was rolled. At last, however, the fly, for +some reason or another, did not reappear on the pane, and the cat +began looking everywhere to find it. Her annoyance when she +failed to do so was extreme. It was not only that she had +lost her fly, but that she could not conceive how she should have +ever come to do so. Presently she noted a small knot in the +woodwork of the sill, and it flashed upon her that she had +accidentally killed the fly, and that this was its dead +body. She tried to move it gently with her paw, but it was +no use, and for the time she satisfied herself that the knot and +the fly had nothing to do with one another. Every now and +then, however, she returned to it as though it were the only +thing she could think of, and she would try it again. She +seemed to say she was certain there had been no knot there +before—she must have seen it if there had been; and yet, +the fly could hardly have got jammed so firmly into the +wood. She was puzzled and irritated beyond measure, and +kept looking in the same place again and again, just as we do +when we have mislaid something. She was rapidly losing +temper and dignity when suddenly we saw the fly reappear from +under the cat’s stomach and make for the window-pane, at +the very moment when the cat herself was exclaiming for the +fiftieth time that she wondered where that stupid fly ever could +have got to. No man who has been hunting twenty minutes for +his spectacles could be more delighted when he suddenly finds +them on his own forehead. “So that’s where you +were,” we seemed to hear her say, as she proceeded to catch +it, and again began rolling it very softly without hurting it, +under her paw. My friend and I both noticed that the cat, +in spite of her perplexity, never so much as hinted that we were +the culprits. The question whether anything outside the +window could do her good or harm had long since been settled by +her in the negative, and she was not going to reopen it; she +simply cut us dead, and though her annoyance was so great that +she was manifestly ready to lay the blame on anybody or anything +with or without reason, and though she must have perfectly well +known that we were watching the whole affair with amusement, she +never either asked us if we had happened to see such a thing as a +fly go down our way lately, or accused us of having taken it from +her—both of which ideas she would, I am confident, have +been very well able to convey to us if she had been so +minded.</p> +<p>Now what are thought and reason if the processes that were +going through this cat’s mind were not both one and the +other? It would be childish to suppose that the cat thought +in words of its own, or in anything like words. Its +thinking was probably conducted through the instrumentality of a +series of mental images. We so habitually think in words +ourselves that we find it difficult to realise thought without +words at all; our difficulty, however, in imagining the +particular manner in which the cat thinks has nothing to do with +the matter. We must answer the question whether she thinks +or no, not according to our own ease or difficulty in +understanding the particular manner of her thinking, but +according as her action does or does not appear to be of the same +character as other action that we commonly call thoughtful. +To say that the cat is not intelligent, merely on the ground that +we cannot ourselves fathom her intelligence—this, as I have +elsewhere said, is to make intelligence mean the power of being +understood, rather than the power of understanding. This +nevertheless is what, for all our boasted intelligence, we +generally do. The more we can understand an animal’s +ways, the more intelligent we call it, and the less we can +understand these, the more stupid do we declare it to be. +As for plants—whose punctuality and attention to all the +details and routine of their somewhat restricted lines of +business is as obvious as it is beyond all praise—we +understand the working of their minds so little that by common +consent we declare them to have no intelligence at all.</p> +<p>Before concluding I should wish to deal a little more fully +with Professor Max Müller’s contention that there can +be no reason without language, and no language without +reason. Surely when two practised pugilists are fighting, +parrying each other’s blows, and watching keenly for an +unguarded point, they are thinking and reasoning very subtly the +whole time, without doing so in words. The machination of +their thoughts, as well as its expression, is actual—I +mean, effectuated and expressed by action and deed, not +words. They are unaware of any logical sequence of thought +that they could follow in words as passing through their minds at +all. They may perhaps think consciously in words now and +again, but such thought will be intermittent, and the main part +of the fighting will be done without any internal concomitance of +articulated phrases. Yet we cannot doubt that their action, +however much we may disapprove of it, is guided by intelligence +and reason; nor should we doubt that a reasoning process of the +same character goes on in the minds of two dogs or fighting-cocks +when they are striving to master their opponents.</p> +<p>Do we think in words, again, when we wind up our watches, put +on our clothes, or eat our breakfasts? If we do, it is +generally about something else. We do these things almost +as much without the help of words as we wink or yawn, or perform +any of those other actions that we call reflex, as it would +almost seem because they are done without reflection. They +are not, however, the less reasonable because wordless.</p> +<p>Even when we think we are thinking in words, we do so only in +half measure. A running accompaniment of words no doubt +frequently attends our thoughts; but, unless we are writing or +speaking, this accompaniment is of the vaguest and most fitful +kind, as we often find out when we try to write down or say what +we are thinking about, though we have a fairly definite notion of +it, or fancy that we have one, all the time. The thought is +not steadily and coherently governed by and moulded in words, nor +does it steadily govern them. Words and thought interact +upon and help one another, as any other mechanical appliances +interact on and help the invention that first hit upon them; but +reason or thought, for the most part, flies along over the heads +of words, working its own mysterious way in paths that are beyond +our ken, though whether some of our departmental personalities +are as unconscious of what is passing, as that central government +is which we alone dub with the name of “we” or +“us,” is a point on which I will not now touch.</p> +<p>I cannot think, then, that Professor Max Müller’s +contention that thought and language are identical—and he +has repeatedly affirmed this—will ever be generally +accepted. Thought is no more identical with language than +feeling is identical with the nervous system. True, we can +no more feel without a nervous system than we can discern certain +minute organisms without a microscope. Destroy the nervous +system, and we destroy feeling. Destroy the microscope, and +we can no longer see the animalcules; but our sight of the +animalcules is not the microscope, though it is effectuated by +means of the microscope, and our feeling is not the nervous +system, though the nervous system is the instrument that enables +us to feel.</p> +<p>The nervous system is a device which living beings have +gradually perfected—I believe I may say quite +truly—through the will and power which they have derived +from a fountain-head, the existence of which we can infer, but +which we can never apprehend. By the help of this device, +and in proportion as they have perfected it, living beings feel +ever with greater definiteness, and hence formulate their +feelings in thought with more and more precision. The +higher evolution of thought has reacted on the nervous system, +and the consequent higher evolution of the nervous system has +again reacted upon thought. These things are as power and +desire, or supply and demand, each one of which is continually +outstripping, and being in turn outstripped by the other; but, in +spite of their close connection and interaction, power is not +desire, nor demand supply. Language is a device evolved +sometimes by leaps and bounds, and sometimes exceedingly slowly, +whereby we help ourselves alike to greater ease, precision, and +complexity of thought, and also to more convenient interchange of +thought among ourselves. Thought found rude expression, +which gradually among other forms assumed that of words. +These reacted upon thought, and thought again on them, but +thought is no more identical with words than words are with the +separate letters of which they are composed.</p> +<p>To sum up, then, and to conclude. I would ask you to see +the connection between words and ideas, as in the first instance +arbitrary. No doubt in some cases an imitation of the cry +of some bird or wild beast would suggest the name that should be +attached to it; occasionally the sound of an operation such as +grinding may have influenced the choice of the letters g, r, as +the root of many words that denote a grinding, grating, grasping, +crushing, action; but I understand that the number of words due +to direct imitation is comparatively few in number, and that they +have been mainly coined as the result of connections so +far-fetched and fanciful as to amount practically to no +connection at all. Once chosen, however, they were adhered +to for a considerable time among the dwellers in any given place, +so as to become acknowledged as the vulgar tongue, and raise +readily in the mind of the inhabitants of that place the ideas +with which they had been artificially associated.</p> +<p>As regards our being able to think and reason without words, +the Duke of Argyll has put the matter as soundly as I have yet +seen it stated. “It seems to me,” he wrote, +“quite certain that we can and do constantly think of +things without thinking of any sound or word as designating +them. Language seems to me to be necessary for the progress +of thought, but not at all for the mere act of thinking. It +is a product of thought, an expression of it, a vehicle for the +communication of it, and an embodiment which is essential to its +growth and continuity; but it seems to me altogether erroneous to +regard it as an inseparable part of cogitation.”</p> +<p>The following passages, again, are quoted from Sir William +Hamilton in Professor Max Müller’s own book, with so +much approval as to lead one to suppose that the differences +between himself and his opponents are in reality less than he +believes them to be:—</p> +<p>“Language,” says Sir W. Hamilton, “is the +attribution of signs to our cognitions of things. But as a +cognition must have already been there before it could receive a +sign, consequently that knowledge which is denoted by the +formation and application of a word must have preceded the symbol +that denotes it. A sign, however, is necessary to give +stability to our intellectual progress—to establish each +step in our advance as a new starting-point for our advance to +another beyond. A country may be overrun by an armed host, +but it is only conquered by the establishment of +fortresses. Words are the fortresses of thought. They +enable us to realise our dominion over what we have already +overrun in thought; to make every intellectual conquest the base +of operations for others still beyond.”</p> +<p>“This,” says Professor Max Müller, “is +a most happy illustration,” and he proceeds to quote the +following, also from Sir William Hamilton, which he declares to +be even happier still.</p> +<p>“You have all heard,” says Sir William Hamilton, +“of the process of tunnelling through a sandbank. In +this operation it is impossible to succeed unless every foot, +nay, almost every inch of our progress be secured by an arch of +masonry before we attempt the excavation of another. Now +language is to the mind precisely what the arch is to the +tunnel. The power of thinking and the power of excavation +are not dependent on the words in the one case or on the +mason-work in the other; but without these subsidiaries neither +could be carried on beyond its rudimentary commencement. +Though, therefore, we allow that every movement forward in +language must be determined by an antecedent movement forward in +thought, still, unless thought be accompanied at each point of +its evolutions by a corresponding evolution of language, its +further development is arrested.”</p> +<p>Man has evolved an articulate language, whereas the lower +animals seem to be without one. Man, therefore, has far +outstripped them in reasoning faculty as well as in power of +expression. This, however, does not bar the communications +which the lower animals make to one another from possessing all +the essential characteristics of language, and as a matter of +fact, wherever we can follow them we find such communications +effectuated by the aid of arbitrary symbols covenanted upon by +the living beings that wish to communicate, and persistently +associated with certain corresponding feelings, states of mind, +or material objects. Human language is nothing more than +this in principle, however much further the principle has been +carried in our own case than in that of the lower animals.</p> +<p>This being admitted, we should infer that the thought or +reason on which the language of men and animals is alike founded +differs as between men and brutes in degree but not in +kind. More than this cannot be claimed on behalf of the +lower animals, even by their most enthusiastic admirer.</p> +<h2>THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM <a name="citation20"></a><a +href="#footnote20" class="citation">[20]</a>—PART I</h2> +<p>It will be readily admitted that of all living writers Mr. +Alfred Russel Wallace is the one the peculiar turn of whose mind +best fits him to write on the subject of natural selection, or +the accumulation of fortunate but accidental variations through +descent and the struggle for existence. His mind in all its +more essential characteristics closely resembles that of the late +Mr. Charles Darwin himself, and it is no doubt due to this fact +that he and Mr. Darwin elaborated their famous theory at the same +time, and independently of one another. I shall have +occasion in the course of the following article to show how +misled and misleading both these distinguished men have been, in +spite of their unquestionable familiarity with the whole range of +animal and vegetable phenomena. I believe it will be more +respectful to both of them to do this in the most out-spoken +way. I believe their work to have been as mischievous as it +has been valuable, and as valuable as it has been mischievous; +and higher, whether praise or blame, I know not how to +give. Nevertheless I would in the outset, and with the +utmost sincerity, admit concerning Messrs. Wallace and Darwin +that neither can be held as the more profound and conscientious +thinker; neither can be put forward as the more ready to +acknowledge obligation to the great writers on evolution who had +preceded him, or to place his own developments in closer and more +conspicuous historical connection with earlier thought upon the +subject; neither is the more ready to welcome criticism and to +state his opponent’s case in the most pointed and telling +way in which it can be put; neither is the more quick to +encourage new truth; neither is the more genial, generous +adversary, or has the profounder horror of anything even +approaching literary or scientific want of candour; both display +the same inimitable power of putting their opinions forward in +the way that shall best ensure their acceptance; both are equally +unrivalled in the tact that tells them when silence will be +golden, and when on the other hand a whole volume of facts may be +advantageously brought forward. Less than the foregoing +tribute both to Messrs. Darwin and Wallace I will not, and more I +cannot pay.</p> +<p>Let us now turn to the most authoritative exponent of +latter-day evolution—I mean to Mr. Wallace, whose work, +entitled “Darwinism,” though it should have been +entitled “Wallaceism,” is still so far Darwinistic +that it develops the teaching of Mr. Darwin in the direction +given to it by Mr. Darwin himself—so far, indeed, as this +can be ascertained at all—and not in that of Lamarck. +Mr. Wallace tells us, on the first page of his preface, that he +has no intention of dealing even in outline with the vast subject +of evolution in general, and has only tried to give such an +account of the theory of natural selection as may facilitate a +clear conception of Darwin’s work. How far he has +succeeded is a point on which opinion will probably be +divided. Those who find Mr. Darwin’s works clear will +also find no difficulty in understanding Mr. Wallace; those, on +the other hand, who find Mr. Darwin puzzling are little likely to +be less puzzled by Mr. Wallace. He continues:—</p> +<p>“The objections now made to Darwin’s theory apply +solely to the particular means by which the change of species has +been brought about, not to the fact of that change.”</p> +<p>But “Darwin’s theory”—as Mr. Wallace +has elsewhere proved that he understands—has no reference +“to the fact of that change”—that is to say, to +the fact that species have been modified in course of descent +from other species. This is no more Mr. Darwin’s +theory than it is the reader’s or my own. +Darwin’s theory is concerned only with “the +particular means by which the change of species has been brought +about”; his contention being that this is mainly due to the +natural survival of those individuals that have happened by some +accident to be born most favourably adapted to their +surroundings, or, in other words, through accumulation in the +common course of nature of the more lucky variations that chance +occasionally purveys. Mr. Wallace’s words, then, in +reality amount to this, that the objections now made to +Darwin’s theory apply solely to Darwin’s theory, +which is all very well as far as it goes, but might have been +more easily apprehended if he had simply said, “There are +several objections now made to Mr. Darwin’s +theory.”</p> +<p>It must be remembered that the passage quoted above occurs on +the first page of a preface dated March 1889, when the writer had +completed his task, and was most fully conversant with his +subject. Nevertheless, it seems indisputable either that he +is still confusing evolution with Mr. Darwin’s theory, or +that he does not know when his sentences have point and when they +have none.</p> +<p>I should perhaps explain to some readers that Mr. Darwin did +not modify the main theory put forward, first by Buffon, to whom +it indisputably belongs, and adopted from him by Erasmus Darwin, +Lamarck, and many other writers in the latter half of the last +century and the earlier years of the present. The early +evolutionists maintained that all existing forms of animal and +vegetable life, including man, were derived in course of descent +with modification from forms resembling the lowest now known.</p> +<p>Mr. Darwin went as far as this, and farther no one can +go. The point at issue between him and his predecessors +involves neither the main fact of evolution, nor yet the +geometrical ratio of increase, and the struggle for existence +consequent thereon. Messrs. Darwin and Wallace have each +thrown invaluable light upon these last two points, but Buffon, +as early as 1756, had made them the keystone of his system. +“The movement of nature,” he then wrote, “turns +on two immovable pivots: one, the illimitable fecundity which she +has given to all species: the other, the innumerable difficulties +which reduce the results of that fecundity.” Erasmus +Darwin and Lamarck followed in the same sense. They thus +admit the survival of the fittest as fully as Mr. Darwin himself, +though they do not make use of this particular expression. +The dispute turns not upon natural selection, which is common to +all writers on evolution, but upon the nature and causes of the +variations that are supposed to be selected from and thus +accumulated. Are these mainly attributable to the inherited +effects of use and disuse, supplemented by occasional sports and +happy accidents? Or are they mainly due to sports and happy +accidents, supplemented by occasional inherited effects of use +and disuse?</p> +<p>The Lamarckian system has all along been maintained by Mr. +Herbert Spencer, who, in his “Principles of Biology,” +published in 1865, showed how impossible it was that accidental +variations should accumulate at all. I am not sure how far +Mr. Spencer would consent to being called a Lamarckian pure and +simple, nor yet how far it is strictly accurate to call him one; +nevertheless, I can see no important difference in the main +positions taken by him and by Lamarck.</p> +<p>The question at issue between the Lamarckians, supported by +Mr. Spencer and a growing band of those who have risen in +rebellion against the Charles-Darwinian system on the one hand, +and Messrs. Darwin and Wallace with the greater number of our +more prominent biologists on the other, involves the very +existence of evolution as a workable theory. For it is +plain that what Nature can be supposed able to do by way of +choice must depend on the supply of the variations from which she +is supposed to choose. She cannot take what is not offered +to her; and so again she cannot be supposed able to accumulate +unless what is gained in one direction in one generation, or +series of generations, is little likely to be lost in those that +presently succeed. Now variations ascribed mainly to use +and disuse can be supposed capable of being accumulated, for use +and disuse are fairly constant for long periods among the +individuals of the same species, and often over large areas; +moreover, conditions of existence involving changes of habit, and +thus of organisation, come for the most part gradually; so that +time is given during which the organism can endeavour to adapt +itself in the requisite respects, instead of being shocked out of +existence by too sudden change. Variations, on the other +hand, that are ascribed to mere chance cannot be supposed as +likely to be accumulated, for chance is notoriously inconstant, +and would not purvey the variations in sufficiently unbroken +succession, or in a sufficient number of individuals, modified +similarly in all the necessary correlations at the same time and +place to admit of their being accumulated. It is vital +therefore to the theory of evolution, as was early pointed out by +the late Professor Fleeming Jenkin and by Mr. Herbert Spencer, +that variations should be supposed to have a definite and +persistent principle underlying them, which shall tend to +engender similar and simultaneous modification, however small, in +the vast majority of individuals composing any species. The +existence of such a principle and its permanence is the only +thing that can be supposed capable of acting as rudder and +compass to the accumulation of variations, and of making it hold +steadily on one course for each species, till eventually many +havens, far remote from one another, are safely reached.</p> +<p>It is obvious that the having fatally impaired the theory of +his predecessors could not warrant Mr. Darwin in claiming, as he +most fatuously did, the theory of evolution. That he is +still generally believed to have been the originator of this +theory is due to the fact that he claimed it, and that a powerful +literary backing at once came forward to support him. It +seems at first sight improbable that those who too zealously +urged his claims were unaware that so much had been written on +the subject, but when we find even Mr. Wallace himself as +profoundly ignorant on this subject as he still either is, or +affects to be, there is no limit assignable to the ignorance or +affected ignorance of the kind of biologists who would write +reviews in leading journals thirty years ago. Mr. Wallace +writes:—</p> +<p>“A few great naturalists, struck by the very slight +difference between many of these species, and the numerous links +that exist between the most different forms of animals and +plants, and also observing that a great many species do vary +considerably in their forms, colours and habits, conceived the +idea that they might be all produced one from the other. +The most eminent of these writers was a great French naturalist, +Lamarck, who published an elaborate work, the <i>Philosophie +Zoologique</i>, in which he endeavoured to prove that all animals +whatever are descended from other species of animals. He +attributed the change of species chiefly to the effect of changes +in the conditions of life—such as climate, food, &c.; +and especially to the desires and efforts of the animals +themselves to improve their condition, leading to a modification +of form or size in certain parts, owing to the well-known +physiological law that all organs are strengthened by constant +use, while they are weakened or even completely lost by disuse . +. .</p> +<p>“The only other important work dealing with the question +was the celebrated ‘Vestiges of Creation,’ published +anonymously, but now acknowledged to have been written by the +late Robert Chambers.”</p> +<p>None are so blind as those who will not see, and it would be +waste of time to argue with the invincible ignorance of one who +thinks Lamarck and Buffon conceived that all species were +produced from one another, more especially as I have already +dealt at some length with the early evolutionists in my work, +“Evolution, Old and New,” first published ten years +ago, and not, so far as I am aware, detected in serious error or +omission. If, however, Mr. Wallace still thinks it safe to +presume so far on the ignorance of his readers as to say that the +only two important works on evolution before Mr. Darwin’s +were Lamarck’s <i>Philosophie Zoologique</i> and the +“Vestiges of Creation,” how fathomable is the +ignorance of the average reviewer likely to have been thirty +years ago, when the “Origin of Species” was first +published? Mr. Darwin claimed evolution as his own +theory. Of course, he would not claim it if he had no right +to it. Then by all means give him the credit of it. +This was the most natural view to take, and it was generally +taken. It was not, moreover, surprising that people failed +to appreciate all the niceties of Mr. Darwin’s +“distinctive feature” which, whether distinctive or +no, was assuredly not distinct, and was never frankly contrasted +with the older view, as it would have been by one who wished it +to be understood and judge upon its merits. It was in +consequence of this omission that people failed to note how fast +and loose Mr. Darwin played with his distinctive feature, and how +readily he dropped it on occasion.</p> +<p>It may be said that the question of what was thought by the +predecessors of Mr. Darwin is, after all, personal, and of no +interest to the general public, comparable to that of the main +issue—whether we are to accept evolution or not. +Granted that Buffon, Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck bore the burden +and heat of the day before Mr. Charles Darwin was born, they did +not bring people round to their opinion, whereas Mr. Darwin and +Mr. Wallace did, and the public cannot be expected to look beyond +this broad and indisputable fact.</p> +<p>The answer to this is, that the theory which Messrs. Darwin +and Wallace have persuaded the public to accept is demonstrably +false, and that the opponents of evolution are certain in the end +to triumph over it. Paley, in his “Natural +Theology,” long since brought forward far too much evidence +of design in animal organisation to allow of our setting down its +marvels to the accumulations of fortunate accident, undirected by +will, effort and intelligence. Those who examine the main +facts of animal and vegetable organisation without bias will, no +doubt, ere long conclude that all animals and vegetables are +derived ultimately from unicellular organisms, but they will not +less readily perceive that the evolution of species without the +concomitance and direction of mind and effort is as inconceivable +as is the independent creation of every individual species. +The two facts, evolution and design, are equally patent to plain +people. There is no escaping from either. According +to Messrs. Darwin and Wallace, we may have evolution, but are on +no account to have it as mainly due to intelligent effort, guided +by ever higher and higher range of sensations, perceptions, and +ideas. We are to set it down to the shuffling of cards, or +the throwing of dice without the play, and this will never +stand.</p> +<p>According to the older men, cards did indeed count for much, +but play counted for more. They denied the teleology of the +time—that is to say, the teleology that saw all adaptation +to surroundings as part of a plan devised long ages since by a +quasi-anthropomorphic being who schemed everything out much as a +man would do, but on an infinitely vaster scale. This +conception they found repugnant alike to intelligence and +conscience, but, though they do not seem to have perceived it, +they left the door open for a design more true and more +demonstrable than that which they excluded. By making their +variations mainly due to effort and intelligence, they made +organic development run on all-fours with human progress, and +with inventions which we have watched growing up from small +beginnings. They made the development of man from the +amoeba part and parcel of the story that may be read, though on +an infinitely smaller scale, in the development of our most +powerful marine engines from the common kettle, or of our finest +microscopes from the dew-drop.</p> +<p>The development of the steam-engine and the microscope is due +to intelligence and design, which did indeed utilise chance +suggestions, but which improved on these, and directed each step +of their accumulation, though never foreseeing more than a step +or two ahead, and often not so much as this. The fact, as I +have elsewhere urged, that the man who made the first kettle did +not foresee the engines of the <i>Great Eastern</i>, or that he +who first noted the magnifying power of the dew-drop had no +conception of our present microscopes—the very limited +amount, in fact, of design and intelligence that was called into +play at any one point—this does not make us deny that the +steam-engine and microscope owe their development to +design. If each step of the road was designed, the whole +journey was designed, though the particular end was not designed +when the journey was begun. And so is it, according to the +older view of evolution, with the development of those living +organs, or machines, that are born with us, as part of the +perambulating carpenter’s chest we call our bodies. +The older view gives us our design, and gives us our evolution +too. If it refuses to see a quasi-anthropomorphic God +modelling each species from without as a potter models clay, it +gives us God as vivifying and indwelling in all His +creatures—He in them, and they in Him. If it refuses +to see God outside the universe, it equally refuses to see any +part of the universe as outside God. If it makes the +universe the body of God, it also makes God the soul of the +universe. The question at issue, then, between the +Darwinism of Erasmus Darwin and the neo-Darwinism of his +grandson, is not a personal one, nor anything like a personal +one. It not only involves the existence of evolution, but +it affects the view we take of life and things in an endless +variety of most interesting and important ways. It is +imperative, therefore, on those who take any interest in these +matters, to place side by side in the clearest contrast the views +of those who refer the evolution of species mainly to +accumulation of variations that have no other inception than +chance, and of that older school which makes design perceive and +develop still further the goods that chance provides.</p> +<p>But over and above this, which would be in itself sufficient, +the historical mode of studying any question is the only one +which will enable us to comprehend it effectually. The +personal element cannot be eliminated from the consideration of +works written by living persons for living persons. We want +to know who is who—whom we can depend upon to have no other +end than the making things clear to himself and his readers, and +whom we should mistrust as having an ulterior aim on which he is +more intent than on the furthering of our better +understanding. We want to know who is doing his best to +help us, and who is only trying to make us help him, or to +bolster up the system in which his interests are vested. +There is nothing that will throw more light upon these points +than the way in which a man behaves towards those who have worked +in the same field with himself, and, again, than his style. +A man’s style, as Buffon long since said, is the man +himself. By style, I do not, of course, mean grammar or +rhetoric, but that style of which Buffon again said that it is +like happiness, and <i>vient de la douceur de +l’âme</i>. When we find a man concealing worse +than nullity of meaning under sentences that sound plausibly +enough, we should distrust him much as we should a +fellow-traveller whom we caught trying to steal our watch. +We often cannot judge of the truth or falsehood of facts for +ourselves, but we most of us know enough of human nature to be +able to tell a good witness from a bad one.</p> +<p>However this may be, and whatever we may think of judging +systems by the directness or indirectness of those who advance +them, biologists, having committed themselves too rashly, would +have been more than human if they had not shown some pique +towards those who dared to say, first, that the theory of Messrs. +Darwin and Wallace was unworkable; and secondly, that even though +it were workable it would not justify either of them in claiming +evolution. When biologists show pique at all they generally +show a good deal of pique, but pique or no pique, they shunned +Mr. Spencer’s objection above referred to with a +persistency more unanimous and obstinate than I ever remember to +have seen displayed even by professional truth-seekers. I +find no rejoinder to it from Mr. Darwin himself, between 1865 +when it was first put forward, and 1882 when Mr. Darwin +died. It has been similarly “ostrichised” by +all the leading apologists of Darwinism, so far at least as I +have been able to observe, and I have followed the matter closely +for many years. Mr. Spencer has repeated and amplified it +in his recent work, “The Factors of Organic +Evolution,” but it still remains without so much as an +attempt at serious answer, for the perfunctory and illusory +remarks of Mr. Wallace at the end of his “Darwinism” +cannot be counted as such. The best proof of its +irresistible weight is that Mr. Darwin, though maintaining +silence in respect to it, retreated from his original position in +the direction that would most obviate Mr. Spencer’s +objection.</p> +<p>Yet this objection has been repeatedly urged by the more +prominent anti-Charles-Darwinian authorities, and there is no +sign that the British public is becoming less rigorous in +requiring people either to reply to objections repeatedly urged +by men of even moderate weight, or to let judgment go by +default. As regards Mr. Darwin’s claim to the theory +of evolution generally, Darwinians are beginning now to perceive +that this cannot be admitted, and either say with some hardihood +that Mr. Darwin never claimed it, or after a few saving clauses +to the effect that this theory refers only to the particular +means by which evolution has been brought about, imply forthwith +thereafter none the less that evolution is Mr. Darwin’s +theory. Mr. Wallace has done this repeatedly in his recent +“Darwinism.” Indeed, I should be by no means +sure that on the first page of his preface, in the passage about +“Darwin’s theory,” which I have already +somewhat severely criticised, he was not intending evolution by +“Darwin’s theory,” if in his preceding +paragraph he had not so clearly shown that he knew evolution to +be a theory of greatly older date than Mr. Darwin’s.</p> +<p>The history of science—well exemplified by that of the +development theory—is the history of eminent men who have +fought against light and have been worsted. The tenacity +with which Darwinians stick to their accumulation of fortuitous +variations is on a par with the like tenacity shown by the +illustrious Cuvier, who did his best to crush evolution +altogether. It always has been thus, and always will be; +nor is it desirable in the interests of Truth herself that it +should be otherwise. Truth is like money—lightly +come, lightly go; and if she cannot hold her own against even +gross misrepresentation, she is herself not worth holding. +Misrepresentation in the long run makes Truth as much as it mars +her; hence our law courts do not think it desirable that pleaders +should speak their <i>bonâ fide</i> opinions, much less +that they should profess to do so. Rather let each side +hoodwink judge and jury as best it can, and let truth flash out +from collision of defence and accusation. When either side +will not collide, it is an axiom of controversy that it desires +to prevent the truth from being elicited.</p> +<p>Let us now note the courses forced upon biologists by the +difficulties of Mr. Darwin’s distinctive feature. Mr. +Darwin and Mr. Wallace, as is well known, brought the feature +forward simultaneously and independently of one another, but Mr. +Wallace always believed in it more firmly than Mr. Darwin +did. Mr. Darwin as a young man did not believe in it. +He wrote before 1889, “Nature, by making habit omnipotent +and its effects hereditary, has fitted the Fuegian for the +climate and productions of his country,” <a +name="citation21"></a><a href="#footnote21" +class="citation">[21]</a> a sentence than which nothing can +coincide more fully with the older view that use and disuse were +the main purveyors of variations, or conflict more fatally with +his own subsequent distinctive feature. Moreover, as I +showed in my last work on evolution, <a name="citation22"></a><a +href="#footnote22" class="citation">[22]</a> in the peroration to +his “Origin of Species,” he discarded his accidental +variations altogether, and fell back on the older theory, so that +the body of the “Origin of Species” supports one +theory, and the peroration another that differs from it <i>toto +cœlo</i>. Finally, in his later editions, he +retreated indefinitely from his original position, edging always +more and more continually towards the theory of his grandfather +and Lamarck. These facts convince me that he was at no time +a thorough-going Darwinian, but was throughout an unconscious +Lamarckian, though ever anxious to conceal the fact alike from +himself and from his readers.</p> +<p>Not so with Mr. Wallace, who was both more outspoken in the +first instance, and who has persevered along the path of +Wallaceism just as Mr. Darwin with greater sagacity was ever on +the retreat from Darwinism. Mr. Wallace’s profounder +faith led him in the outset to place his theory in fuller +daylight than Mr. Darwin was inclined to do. Mr. Darwin +just waved Lamarck aside, and said as little about him as he +could, while in his earlier editions Erasmus Darwin and Buffon +were not so much as named. Mr. Wallace, on the contrary, at +once raised the Lamarckian spectre, and declared it +exorcised. He said the Lamarckian hypothesis was +“quite unnecessary.” The giraffe did not +“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 shorter-necked +companions, and on the first scarcity of food were thus enabled +to outlive them.” <a name="citation23"></a><a +href="#footnote23" class="citation">[23]</a></p> +<p>“Which occurred” is evidently “which +happened to occur” by some chance or accident unconnected +with use and disuse. The word “accident” is +never used, but Mr. Wallace must be credited with this instance +of a desire to give his readers a chance of perceiving that +according to his distinctive feature evolution is an affair of +luck, rather than of cunning. Whether his readers actually +did understand this as clearly as Mr. Wallace doubtless desired +that they should, and whether greater development at this point +would not have helped them to fuller apprehension, we need not +now inquire. What was gained in distinctness might have +been lost in distinctiveness, and after all he did technically +put us upon our guard.</p> +<p>Nevertheless he too at a pinch takes refuge in +Lamarckism. In relation to the manner in which the eyes of +soles, turbots, and other flat-fish travel round the head so as +to become in the end unsymmetrically placed, he says:—</p> +<p>“The eyes of these fish are curiously distorted in order +that both eyes may be upon the upper side, where alone they would +be of any use. . . . Now if we suppose this process, which in the +young is completed in a few days or weeks, to have been spread +over thousands of generations during the development of these +fish, those usually surviving <i>whose eyes retained more and +more of the position into which the young fish tried to twist +them</i> [italics mine], the change becomes intelligible.” +<a name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24" +class="citation">[24]</a> When it was said by Professor Ray +Lankester—who knows as well as most people what Lamarck +taught—that this was “flat Lamarckism,” Mr. +Wallace rejoined that it was the survival of the modified +individuals that did it all, not the efforts of the young fish to +twist their eyes, and the transmission to descendants of the +effects of those efforts. But this, as I said in my book, +“Evolution, Old and New,” <a name="citation25"></a><a +href="#footnote25" class="citation">[25]</a> is like saying that +horses are swift runners, not by reason of the causes, whatever +they were, that occasioned the direct line of their progenitors +to vary towards ever greater and greater swiftness, but because +their more slow-going uncles and aunts go away. Plain +people will prefer to say that the main cause of any accumulation +of favourable modifications consists rather in that which brings +about the initial variations, and in the fact that these can be +inherited at all, than in the fact that the unmodified +individuals were not successful. People do not become rich +because the poor in large numbers go away, but because they have +been lucky, or provident, or more commonly both. If they +would keep their wealth when they have made it they must exclude +luck thenceforth to the utmost of their power, and their children +must follow their example, or they will soon lose their +money. The fact that the weaker go to the wall does not +bring about the greater strength of the stronger; it is the +consequence of this last and not the cause—unless, indeed, +it be contended that a knowledge that the weak go to the wall +stimulates the strong to exertions which they would not otherwise +so make, and that these exertions produce inheritable +modifications. Even in this case, however, it would be the +exertions, or use and disuse, that would be the main agents in +the modification. But it is not often that Mr. Wallace thus +backslides. His present position is that acquired (as +distinguished from congenital) modifications are not inherited at +all. He does not indeed put his faith prominently forward +and pin himself to it as plainly as could be wished, but under +the heading, “The Non-Heredity of Acquired +Characters,” he writes as follows on p. 440 of his recent +work in reference to Professor Weismann’s Theory of +Heredity:—</p> +<p>“Certain observations on the embryology of the lower +animals are held to afford direct proof of this theory of +heredity, but they are too technical to be made clear to ordinary +readers. A logical result of the theory is the +impossibility of the transmission of acquired characters, since +the molecular structure of the germ-plasm is already determined +within the embryo; and Weismann holds that there are no facts +which really prove that acquired characters can be inherited, +although their inheritance has, by most writers, been considered +so probable as hardly to stand in need of direct proof.</p> +<p>“We have already seen in the earlier part of this +chapter that many instances of change, imputed to the inheritance +of acquired variations, are really cases of selection.”</p> +<p>And the rest of the remarks tend to convey the impression that +Mr. Wallace adopts Professor Weismann’s view, but, +curiously enough, though I have gone through Mr. Wallace’s +book with a special view to this particular point, I have not +been able to find him definitely committing himself either to the +assertion that acquired modifications never are inherited, or +that they sometimes are so. It is abundantly laid down that +Mr. Darwin laid too much stress on use and disuse, and a +residuary impression is left that Mr. Wallace is endorsing +Professor Weismann’s view, but I have found it impossible +to collect anything that enables me to define his position +confidently in this respect.</p> +<p>This is natural enough, for Mr. Wallace has entitled his book +“Darwinism,” and a work denying that use and disuse +produced any effect could not conceivably be called +Darwinism. Mr. Herbert Spencer has recently collected many +passages from “The Origin of Species” and from +“Animals and Plants under Domestication,” <a +name="citation26"></a><a href="#footnote26" +class="citation">[26]</a> which show how largely, after all, use +and disuse entered into Mr. Darwin’s system, and we know +that in his later years he attached still more importance to +them. It was out of the question, therefore, that Mr. +Wallace should categorically deny that their effects were +inheritable. On the other hand, the temptation to adopt +Professor Weismann’s view must have been overwhelming to +one who had been already inclined to minimise the effects of use +and disuse. On the whole, one does not see what Mr. Wallace +could do, other than what he has done—unless, of course, he +changed his title, or had been no longer Mr. Wallace.</p> +<p>Besides, thanks to the works of Mr. Spencer, Professor Mivart, +Professor Semper, and very many others, there has for some time +been a growing perception that the Darwinism of Charles Darwin +was doomed. Use and disuse must either do even more than is +officially recognised in Mr. Darwin’s later concessions, or +they must do a great deal less. If they can do as much as +Mr. Darwin himself said they did, why should they not do +more? Why stop where Mr. Darwin did? And again, where +in the name of all that is reasonable did he really stop? +He drew no line, and on what principle can we say that so much is +possible as effect of use and disuse, but so much more +impossible? If, as Mr. Darwin contended, disuse can so far +reduce an organ as to render it rudimentary, and in many cases +get rid of it altogether, why cannot use create as much as disuse +can destroy, provided it has anything, no matter how low in +structure, to begin with? Let us know where we stand. +If it is admitted that use and disuse can do a good deal, what +does a good deal mean? And what is the proportion between +the shares attributable to use and disuse and to natural +selection respectively? If we cannot be told with absolute +precision, let us at any rate have something more definite than +the statement that natural selection is “the most important +means of modification.”</p> +<p>Mr. Darwin gave us no help in this respect; and worse than +this, he contradicted himself so flatly as to show that he had +very little definite idea upon the subject at all. Thus in +respect to the winglessness of the Madeira beetles he +wrote:—</p> +<p>“In some cases we might easily put down to disuse +modifications of structure, which are wholly or mainly due to +natural selection. Mr. Wollaston has discovered the +remarkable fact that 200 beetles, out of the 550 species (but +more are now known) inhabiting Madeira, are so far deficient in +wings that they cannot fly; and that of the 29 endemic genera no +less than 23 have all their species in this condition! +Several facts,—namely, that beetles in many parts of the +world are frequently blown out to sea and perish; that the +beetles in Madeira, as observed by Mr. Wollaston, lie much +concealed until the wind lulls and the sun shines; that the +proportion of wingless beetles is larger on the exposed Desertas +than in Madeira itself; and especially the extraordinary fact, so +strongly insisted on by Mr. Wollaston, that certain large groups +of beetles, elsewhere excessively numerous, which absolutely +require the use of their wings are here almost entirely +absent;—these several considerations make me believe that +the wingless condition of so many Madeira beetles is mainly due +to the action of natural selection, <i>combined probably with +disuse</i> [italics mine]. For during many successive +generations each individual beetle which flew least, either from +its wings having been ever so little less perfectly developed or +from indolent habit, will have had the best chance of surviving, +from not being blown out to sea; and, on the other hand, those +beetles which most readily took to flight would oftenest have +been blown to sea, and thus destroyed.” <a +name="citation27"></a><a href="#footnote27" +class="citation">[27]</a></p> +<p>We should like to know, first, somewhere about how much disuse +was able to do after all, and moreover why, if it can do anything +at all, it should not be able to do all. Mr. Darwin says: +“Any change in structure and function which can be effected +by small stages is within the power of natural +selection.” “And why not,” we ask, +“within the power of use and disuse?” Moreover, +on a later page we find Mr. Darwin saying:—</p> +<p>“<i>It appears probable that disuse has been the main +agent in rendering organs rudimentary</i> [italics mine]. +It would at first lead by slow steps to the more and more +complete reduction of a part, until at last it has become +rudimentary—as in the case of the eyes of animals +inhabiting dark caverns, and of the wings of birds inhabiting +oceanic islands, which have seldom been forced by beasts of prey +to take flight, and have ultimately lost the power of +flying. Again, an organ, useful under certain conditions, +might become injurious under others, <i>as with the wings of +beetles living on small and exposed islands</i>; and in this case +natural selection will have aided in reducing the organ, until it +was rendered harmless and rudimentary [italics mine].” <a +name="citation28"></a><a href="#footnote28" +class="citation">[28]</a></p> +<p>So that just as an undefined amount of use and disuse was +introduced on the earlier page to supplement the effects of +natural selection in respect of the wings of beetles on small and +exposed islands, we have here an undefined amount of natural +selection introduced to supplement the effects of use and disuse +in respect of the identical phenomena. In the one passage +we find that natural selection has been the main agent in +reducing the wings, though use and disuse have had an appreciable +share in the result; in the other, it is use and disuse that have +been the main agents, though an appreciable share in the result +must be ascribed to natural selection.</p> +<p>Besides, who has seen the uncles and aunts going away with the +uniformity that is necessary for Mr. Darwin’s +contention? We know that birds and insects do often get +blown out to sea and perish, but in order to establish Mr. +Darwin’s position we want the evidence of those who watched +the reduction of the wings during the many generations in the +course of which it was being effected, and who can testify that +all, or the overwhelming majority, of the beetles born with +fairly well-developed wings got blown out to sea, while those +alone survived whose wings were congenitally degenerate. +Who saw them go, or can point to analogous cases so conclusive as +to compel assent from any equitable thinker?</p> +<p>Darwinians of the stamp of Mr. Thiselton Dyer, Professor Ray +Lankester, or Mr. Romanes, insist on their pound of flesh in the +matter of irrefragable demonstration. They complain of us +for not bringing forward some one who has been able to detect the +movement of the hour-hand of a watch during a second of time, and +when we fail to do so, declare triumphantly that we have no +evidence that there is any connection between the beating of a +second and the movement of the hour-hand. When we say that +rain comes from the condensation of moisture in the atmosphere, +they demand of us a rain-drop from moisture not yet +condensed. If they stickle for proof and cavil on the ninth +part of a hair, as they do when we bring forward what we deem +excellent instances of the transmission of an acquired +characteristic, why may not we, too, demand at any rate some +evidence that the unmodified beetles actually did always, or +nearly always, get blown out to sea, during the reduction above +referred to, and that it is to this fact, and not to the masterly +inactivity of their fathers and mothers, that the Madeira beetles +owe their winglessness? If we began stickling for proof in +this way, our opponents would not be long in letting us know that +absolute proof is unattainable on any subject, that reasonable +presumption is our highest certainty, and that crying out for too +much evidence is as bad as accepting too little. Truth is +like a photographic sensitised plate, which is equally ruined by +over and by under exposure, and the just exposure for which can +never be absolutely determined.</p> +<p>Surely if disuse can be credited with the vast powers involved +in Mr. Darwin’s statement that it has probably “been +the main agent in rendering organs rudimentary,” no limits +are assignable to the accumulated effects of habit, provided the +effects of habit, or use and disuse, are supposed, as Mr. Darwin +supposed them, to be inheritable at all. Darwinians have at +length woke up to the dilemma in which they are placed by the +manner in which Mr. Darwin tried to sit on the two stools of use +and disuse, and natural selection of accidental variations, at +the same time. The knell of Charles-Darwinism is rung in +Mr. Wallace’s present book, and in the general perception +on the part of biologists that we must either assign to use and +disuse such a predominant share in modification as to make it the +feature most proper to be insisted on, or deny that the +modifications, whether of mind or body, acquired during a single +lifetime, are ever transmitted at all. If they can be +inherited at all, they can be accumulated. If they can be +accumulated at all, they can be so, for anything that appears to +the contrary, to the extent of the specific and generic +differences with which we are surrounded. The only thing to +do is to pluck them out root and branch: they are as a cancer +which, if the smallest fibre be left unexcised, will grow again, +and kill any system on to which it is allowed to fasten. +Mr. Wallace, therefore, may well be excused if he casts longing +eyes towards Weismannism.</p> +<p>And what was Mr. Darwin’s system? Who can make +head or tail of the inextricable muddle in which he left +it? The “Origin of Species” in its latest shape +is the reduction of hedging to an absurdity. How did Mr. +Darwin himself leave it in the last chapter of the last edition +of the “Origin of Species”? He +wrote:—</p> +<p>“I have now recapitulated the facts and considerations +which have thoroughly convinced me that species have been +modified during a long course of descent. This has been +effected chiefly through the natural selection of numerous, +successive, slight, favourable variations; aided in an important +manner by the inherited effects of the use and disuse of parts, +and in an unimportant manner—that is, in relation to +adaptive structures whether past or present—by the direct +action of external conditions, and by variations which seem to us +in our ignorance to arise spontaneously. It appears that I +formerly underrated the frequency and value of these latter forms +of variation, as leading to permanent modifications of structure +independently of natural selection.”</p> +<p>The “numerous, successive, slight, favourable +variations” above referred to are intended to be +fortuitous, accidental, spontaneous. It is the essence of +Mr. Darwin’s theory that this should be so. Mr. +Darwin’s solemn statement, therefore, of his theory, after +he had done his best or his worst with it, is, when stripped of +surplusage, as follows:—</p> +<p>“The modification of species has been mainly effected by +accumulation of spontaneous variations; it has been aided in an +important manner by accumulation of variations due to use and +disuse, and in an unimportant manner by spontaneous variations; I +do not even now think that spontaneous variations have been very +important, but I used once to think them less important than I do +now.”</p> +<p>It is a discouraging symptom of the age that such a system +should have been so long belauded, and it is a sign of returning +intelligence that even he who has been more especially the +<i>alter ego</i> of Mr. Darwin should have felt constrained to +close the chapter of Charles-Darwinism as a living theory, and +relegate it to the important but not very creditable place in +history which it must henceforth occupy. It is astonishing, +however, that Mr. Wallace should have quoted the extract from the +“Origin of Species” just given, as he has done on p. +412 of his “Darwinism,” without betraying any sign +that he has caught its driftlessness—for drift, other than +a desire to hedge, it assuredly has not got. The battle now +turns on the question whether modifications of either structure +or instinct due to use or disuse are ever inherited, or whether +they are not. Can the effects of habit be transmitted to +progeny at all? We know that more usually they are not +transmitted to any perceptible extent, but we believe also that +occasionally, and indeed not infrequently, they are inherited and +even intensified. What are our grounds for this +opinion? It will be my object to put these forward in the +following number of the <i>Universal Review</i>.</p> +<h3>THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM—PART II <a +name="citation29"></a><a href="#footnote29" +class="citation">[29]</a></h3> +<p>At the close of my article in last month’s number of the +<i>Universal Review</i>, I said I would in this month’s +issue show why the opponents of Charles-Darwinism believe the +effects of habits acquired during the lifetime of a parent to +produce an effect on their subsequent offspring, in spite of the +fact that we can rarely find the effect in any one generation, or +even in several, sufficiently marked to arrest our attention.</p> +<p>I will now show that offspring can be, and not very +infrequently is, affected by occurrences that have produced a +deep impression on the parent organism—the effect produced +on the offspring being such as leaves no doubt that it is to be +connected with the impression produced on the parent. +Having thus established the general proposition, I will proceed +to the more particular one—that habits, involving use and +disuse of special organs, with the modifications of structure +thereby engendered, produce also an effect upon offspring, which, +though seldom perceptible as regards structure in a single, or +even in several generations, is nevertheless capable of being +accumulated in successive generations till it amounts to specific +and generic difference. I have found the first point as +much as I can treat within the limits of this present article, +and will avail myself of the hospitality of the <i>Universal +Review</i> next month to deal with the second.</p> +<p>The proposition which I have to defend is one which no one +till recently would have questioned, and even now, those who look +most askance at it do not venture to dispute it unreservedly; +they every now and then admit it as conceivable, and even in some +cases probable; nevertheless they seek to minimise it, and to +make out that there is little or no connection between the great +mass of the cells of which the body is composed, and those cells +that are alone capable of reproducing the entire organism. +The tendency is to assign to these last a life of their own, +apart from, and unconnected with that of the other cells of the +body, and to cheapen all evidence that tends to prove any +response on their part to the past history of the individual, and +hence ultimately of the race.</p> +<p>Professor Weismann is the foremost exponent of those who take +this line. He has naturally been welcomed by English +Charles-Darwinians; for if his view can be sustained, then it can +be contended that use and disuse produce no transmissible effect, +and the ground is cut from under Lamarck’s feet; if, on the +other hand, his view is unfounded, the Lamarckian reaction, +already strong, will gain still further strength. The +issue, therefore, is important, and is being fiercely contested +by those who have invested their all of reputation for +discernment in Charles-Darwinian securities.</p> +<p>Professor Weismann’s theory is, that at every new birth +a part of the substance which proceeds from parents and which +goes to form the new embryo is not used up in forming the new +animal, but remains apart to generate the germ-cells—or +perhaps I should say “germ-plasm”—which the new +animal itself will in due course issue.</p> +<p>Contrasting the generally received view with his own, +Professor Weismann says that according to the first of these +“the organism produces germ-cells afresh again and again, +and that it produces them entirely from its own +substance.” While by the second “the germ-cells +are no longer looked upon as the product of the parent’s +body, at least as far as their essential part—the specific +germ-plasm—is concerned; they are rather considered as +something which is to be placed in contrast with the <i>tout +ensemble</i> of the cells which make up the parent’s body, +and the germ-cells of succeeding generations stand in a similar +relation to one another as a series of generations of unicellular +organisms arising by a continued process of cell-division.” +<a name="citation30"></a><a href="#footnote30" +class="citation">[30]</a></p> +<p>On another page he writes:—</p> +<p>“I believe that heredity depends upon the fact that a +small portion of the effective substance of the germ, the +germ-plasm, remains unchanged during the development of the ovum +into an organism, and that this part of the germ-plasm serves as +a foundation from which the germ-cells of the new organism are +produced. There is, therefore, continuity of the germ-plasm +from one generation to another. One might represent the +germ-plasm by the metaphor of a long creeping root-stock from +which plants arise at intervals, these latter representing the +individuals of successive generations.” <a +name="citation31"></a><a href="#footnote31" +class="citation">[31]</a></p> +<p>Mr. Wallace, who does not appear to have read Professor +Weismann’s essays themselves, but whose remarks are, no +doubt, ultimately derived from the sequel to the passage just +quoted from page 266 of Professor Weismann’s book, contends +that the impossibility of the transmission of acquired characters +follows as a logical result from Professor Weismann’s +theory, inasmuch as the molecular structure of the germ-plasm +that will go to form any succeeding generation is already +predetermined within the still unformed embryo of its +predecessor; “and Weismann,” continues Mr. Wallace, +“holds that there are no facts which really prove that +acquired characters can be inherited, although their inheritance +has, by most writers, been considered so probable as hardly to +stand in need of direct proof.” <a name="citation32"></a><a +href="#footnote32" class="citation">[32]</a></p> +<p>Professor Weismann, in passages too numerous to quote, shows +that he recognises this necessity, and acknowledges that the +non-transmission of acquired characters “forms the +foundation of the views” set forth in his book, p. 291.</p> +<p>Professor Ray Lankester does not commit himself absolutely to +this view, but lends it support by saying (<i>Nature</i>, +December 12, 1889): “It is hardly necessary to say that it +has never yet been shown experimentally that <i>anything</i> +acquired by one generation is transmitted to the next (putting +aside diseases).”</p> +<p>Mr. Romanes, writing in <i>Nature</i>, March 18, 1890, and +opposing certain details of Professor Weismann’s theory, so +far supports it as to say that “there is the gravest +possible doubt lying against the supposition that any really +inherited decrease is due to the inherited effects of +disuse.” The “gravest possible doubt” +should mean that Mr. Romanes regards it as a moral certainty that +disuse has no transmitted effect in reducing an organ, and it +should follow that he holds use to have no transmitted effect in +its development. The sequel, however, makes me uncertain +how far Mr. Romanes intends this, and I would refer the reader to +the article which Mr. Romanes has just published on Weismann in +the <i>Contemporary Review</i> for this current month.</p> +<p>The burden of Mr. Thiselton Dyer’s controversy with the +Duke of Argyll (see <i>Nature</i>, January 16, 1890, <i>et +seq.</i>) was that there was no evidence in support of the +transmission of any acquired modification. The orthodoxy of +science, therefore, must be held as giving at any rate a +provisional support to Professor Weismann, but all of them, +including even Professor Weismann himself, shrink from committing +themselves to the opinion that the germ-cells of any organisms +remain in all cases unaffected by the events that occur to the +other cells of the same organism, and until they do this they +have knocked the bottom out of their case.</p> +<p>From among the passages in which Professor Weismann himself +shows a desire to hedge I may take the following from page 170 of +his book:—</p> +<p>“I am also far from asserting that the germ-plasm which, +as I hold, is transmitted as the basis of heredity from one +generation to another, is absolutely unchangeable or totally +uninfluenced by forces residing in the organism within which it +is transformed into germ-cells. I am also compelled to +admit it as conceivable that organisms may exert a modifying +influence upon their germ-cells, and even that such a process is +to a certain extent inevitable. The nutrition and growth of +the individual must exercise some influence upon its germ-cells . +. . ”</p> +<p>Professor Weismann does indeed go on to say that this +influence must be extremely slight, but we do not care how slight +the changes produced may be provided they exist and can be +transmitted. On an earlier page (p. 101) he said in regard +to variations generally that we should not expect to find them +conspicuous; their frequency would be enough, if they could be +accumulated. The same applies here, if stirring events that +occur to the somatic cells can produce any effect at all on +offspring. A very small effect, provided it can be repeated +and accumulated in successive generations, is all that even the +most exacting Lamarckian will ask for.</p> +<p>Having now made the reader acquainted with the position taken +by the leading Charles-Darwinian authorities, I will return to +Professor Weismann himself, who declares that the transmission of +acquired characters “at first sight certainly seems +necessary,” and that “it appears rash to attempt to +dispense with its aid.” He continues:—</p> +<p>“Many phenomena only appear to be intelligible if we +assume the hereditary transmission of such acquired characters as +the changes which we ascribe to the use or disuse of particular +organs, or to the direct influence of climate. Furthermore, +how can we explain instinct as hereditary habit, unless it has +gradually arisen by the accumulation, through heredity, of habits +which were practised in succeeding generations?” <a +name="citation33"></a><a href="#footnote33" +class="citation">[33]</a></p> +<p>I may say in passing that Professor Weismann appears to +suppose that the view of instinct just given is part of the +Charles-Darwinian system, for on page 889 of his book he says +“that many observers had followed Darwin in explaining them +[instincts] as inherited habits.” This was not Mr. +Darwin’s own view of the matter. He wrote:—</p> +<p>“If we suppose any habitual action to become +inherited—and I think it can be shown that this does +sometimes happen—then the resemblance between what +originally was a habit and an instinct becomes so close as not to +be distinguished. . . But it would be the most 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. It can be clearly shown that the +most wonderful instincts with which we are acquainted, namely, +those of the hive-bee and of many ants, could not possibly have +been thus acquired.”—[“Origin of +Species,” ed., 1859, p. 209.]</p> +<p>Again we read: “Domestic instincts are sometimes spoken +of as actions which have become inherited solely from +long-continued and compulsory habit, but this, I think, is not +true.”—<i>Ibid.</i>, p. 214.</p> +<p>Again: “I am surprised that no one has advanced this +demonstrative case of neuter insects, against the well-known +doctrine of inherited habit, as advanced by +Lamarck.”—[“Origin of Species,” ed. 1872, +p. 283.]</p> +<p>I am not aware that Lamarck advanced the doctrine that +instinct is inherited habit, but he may have done so in some work +that I have not seen.</p> +<p>It is true, as I have more than once pointed out, that in the +later editions of the “Origin of Species” it is no +longer “the <i>most</i> serious” error to refer +instincts generally to inherited habit, but it still remains +“a serious error,” and this slight relaxation of +severity does not warrant Professor Weismann in ascribing to Mr. +Darwin an opinion which he emphatically condemned. His +tone, however, is so offhand, that those who have little +acquaintance with the literature of evolution would hardly guess +that he is not much better informed on this subject than +themselves.</p> +<p>Returning to the inheritance of acquired characters, Professor +Weismann says that this has never been proved either by means of +direct observation or by experiment. “It must be +admitted,” he writes, “that there are in existence +numerous descriptions of cases which tend to prove that such +mutilations as the loss of fingers, the scars of wounds, &c., +are inherited by the offspring, but in these descriptions the +previous history is invariably obscure, and hence the evidence +loses all scientific value.”</p> +<p>The experiments of M. Brown-Séquard throw so much +light upon the question at issue that I will quote at some length +from the summary given by Mr. Darwin in his “Variation of +Animals and Plants under Domestication.” <a +name="citation34"></a><a href="#footnote34" +class="citation">[34]</a> Mr. Darwin writes:—</p> +<p>“With respect to the inheritance of structures mutilated +by injuries or altered by disease, it was until lately difficult +to come to any definite conclusion.” [Then follow +several cases in which mutilations practised for many generations +are not found to be transmitted.] +“Notwithstanding,” continues Mr. Darwin, “the +above several negative cases, we now possess conclusive evidence +that the effects of operations are sometimes inherited. Dr. +Brown-Séquard gives the following summary of his +observations on guinea-pigs, and this summary is so important +that I will quote the whole:—</p> +<p>“‘1st. Appearance of epilepsy in animals +born of parents having been rendered epileptic by an injury to +the spinal cord.</p> +<p>“‘2nd. Appearance of epilepsy also in +animals born of parents having been rendered epileptic by the +section of the sciatic nerve.</p> +<p>“‘3rd. A change in the shape of the ear in +animals born of parents in which such a change was the effect of +a division of the cervical sympathetic nerve.</p> +<p>“‘4th. Partial closure of the eyelids in +animals born of parents in which that state of the eyelids had +been caused either by the section of the cervical sympathetic +nerve or the removal of the superior cervical ganglion.</p> +<p>“‘5th. Exophthalmia in animals born of +parents in which an injury to the restiform body had produced +that protrusion of the eyeball. This interesting fact I +have witnessed a good many times, and I have seen the +transmission of the morbid state of the eye continue through four +generations. In these animals modified by heredity, the two +eyes generally protruded, although in the parents usually only +one showed exophthalmia, the lesion having been made in most +cases only on one of the corpora restiformia.</p> +<p>“‘6th. Hæmatoma and dry gangrene of +the ears in animals born of parents in which these +ear-alterations had been caused by an injury to the restiform +body near the nib of the calamus.</p> +<p>“‘7th. Absence of two toes out of the three +of the hind leg, and sometimes of the three, in animals whose +parents had eaten up their hind-leg toes which had become +anæsthetic from a section of the sciatic nerve alone, or of +that nerve and also of the crural. Sometimes, instead of +complete absence of the toes, only a part of one or two or three +was missing in the young, although in the parent not only the +toes but the whole foot was absent (partly eaten off, partly +destroyed by inflammation, ulceration, or gangrene).</p> +<p>“‘8th. Appearance of various morbid states +of the skin and hair of the neck and face in animals born of +parents having had similar alterations in the same parts, as +effects of an injury to the sciatic nerve.’</p> +<p>“It should be especially observed that +Brown-Séquard has bred during thirty years many thousand +guinea-pigs from animals which had not been operated upon, and +not one of these manifested the epileptic tendency. Nor has +he ever seen a guinea-pig born without toes, which was not the +offspring of parents which had gnawed off their own toes owing to +the sciatic nerve having been divided. Of this latter fact +thirteen instances were carefully recorded, and a greater number +were seen; yet Brown-Séquard speaks of such cases as one +of the rarer forms of inheritance. It is a still more +interesting fact, ‘that the sciatic nerve in the +congenitally toeless animal has inherited the power of passing +through all the different morbid states which have occurred in +one of its parents from the time of the division till after its +reunion with the peripheric end. It is not, therefore, +simply the power of performing an action which is inherited, but +the power of performing a whole series of actions, in a certain +order.’</p> +<p>“In most of the cases of inheritance recorded by +Brown-Séquard only one of the two parents had been +operated upon and was affected. He concludes by expressing +his belief that ‘what is transmitted is the morbid state of +the nervous system,’ due to the operation performed on the +parents.”</p> +<p>Mr. Darwin proceeds to give other instances of inherited +effects of mutilations:—</p> +<p>“With the horse there seems hardly a doubt that +exostoses on the legs, caused by too much travelling on hard +roads, are inherited. Blumenbach records the case of a man +who had his little finger on the right hand almost cut off, and +which in consequence grew crooked, and his sons had the same +finger on the same hand similarly crooked. A soldier, +fifteen years before his marriage, lost his left eye from +purulent ophthalmia, and his two sons were microphthalmic on the +same side.”</p> +<p>The late Professor Rolleston, whose competence as an observer +no one is likely to dispute, gave Mr. Darwin two cases as having +fallen under his own notice, one of a man whose knee had been +severely wounded, and whose child was born with the same spot +marked or scarred, and the other of one who was severely cut upon +the cheek, and whose child was born scarred in the same +place. Mr. Darwin’s conclusion was that “the +effects of injuries, especially when followed by disease, or +perhaps exclusively when thus followed, are occasionally +inherited.”</p> +<p>Let us now see what Professor Weismann has to say against +this. He writes:—</p> +<p>“The only cases worthy of discussion are the well-known +experiments upon guinea-pigs conducted by the French +physiologist, Brown-Séquard. But the explanation of +his results is, in my opinion, open to discussion. In these +cases we have to do with the apparent transmission of +artificially produced malformations . . . All these effects were +said to be transmitted to descendants as far as the fifth or +sixth generation.</p> +<p>“But we must inquire whether these cases are really due +to heredity, and not to simple infection. In the case of +epilepsy, at any rate, it is easy to imagine that the passage of +some specific organism through the reproductive cells may take +place, as in the case of syphilis. We are, however, +entirely ignorant of the nature of the former disease. This +suggested explanation may not perhaps apply to the other cases; +but we must remember that animals which have been subjected to +such severe operations upon the nervous system have sustained a +great shock, and if they are capable of breeding, it is only +probable that they will produce weak descendants, and such as are +easily affected by disease. Such a result does not, +however, explain why the offspring should suffer from the same +disease as that which was artificially induced in the +parents. But this does not appear to have been by any means +invariably the case. Brown-Séquard himself says: +‘The changes in the eye of the offspring were of a very +variable nature, and were only occasionally exactly similar to +those observed in the parents.’</p> +<p>“There is no doubt, however, that these experiments +demand careful consideration, but before they can claim +scientific recognition, they must be subjected to rigid criticism +as to the precautions taken, the nature and number of the control +experiments, &c.</p> +<p>“Up to the present time such necessary conditions have +not been sufficiently observed. The recent experiments +themselves are only described in short preliminary notices, +which, as regards their accuracy, the possibility of mistake, the +precautions taken, and the exact succession of individuals +affected, afford no data on which a scientific opinion can be +founded” (pp. 81, 82).</p> +<p>The line Professor Weismann takes, therefore, is to discredit +the facts; yet on a later page we find that the experiments have +since been repeated by Obersteiner, “who has described them +in a very exact and unprejudiced manner,” and that +“the fact”—(I imagine that Professor Weismann +intends “the facts”)—“cannot be +doubted.”</p> +<p>On a still later page, however, we read:—</p> +<p>“If, for instance, it could be shown that artificial +mutilation spontaneously reappears in the offspring with +sufficient frequency to exclude all possibilities of chance, then +such proof [<i>i.e.</i>, that acquired characters can be +transmitted] would be forthcoming. The transmission of +mutilations has been frequently asserted, and has been even +recently again brought forward, but all the supposed instances +have broken down when carefully examined” (p. 390).</p> +<p>Here, then, we are told that proof of the occasional +transmission of mutilations would be sufficient to establish the +fact, but on p. 267 we find that no single fact is known which +really proves that acquired characters can be transmitted, +“<i>for the ascertained facts which seem to point to the +transmission of artificially produced diseases cannot be +considered as proof</i>” [Italics mine.] Perhaps; but +it was mutilation in many cases that Professor Weismann +practically admitted to have been transmitted when he declared +that Obersteiner had verified Brown-Séquard’s +experiments.</p> +<p>That Professor Weismann recognises the vital importance to his +own theory of the question whether or no mutilations can be +transmitted under any circumstances, is evident from a passage on +p. 425 of his work, on which he says: “It can hardly be +doubted that mutilations are acquired characters; they do not +arise from any tendency contained in the germ, but are merely the +reaction of the body under certain external influences. +They are, as I have recently expressed it, purely somatogenic +characters—viz., characters which emanate from the body +(<i>soma</i>) only, as opposed to the germ-cells; they are, +therefore, characters that do not arise from the germ itself.</p> +<p>“If mutilations must necessarily be transmitted” +[which no one that I know of has maintained], “or even if +they might occasionally be transmitted” [which cannot, I +imagine, be reasonably questioned], “a powerful support +would be given to the Lamarckian principle, and the transmission +of functional hypertrophy or atrophy would thus become highly +probable.”</p> +<p>I have not found any further attempt in Professor +Weismann’s book to deal with the evidence adduced by Mr. +Darwin to show that mutilations, if followed by diseases, are +sometimes inherited; and I must leave it to the reader to +determine how far Professor Weismann has shown reason for +rejecting Mr. Darwin’s conclusion. I do not, however, +dwell upon these facts now as evidence of a transmitted change of +bodily form, or of instinct due to use and disuse or habit; what +they prove is that the germ-cells within the parent’s body +do not stand apart from the other cells of the body so completely +as Professor Weismann would have us believe, but that, as +Professor Hering, of Prague, has aptly said, they echo with more +or less frequency and force to the profounder impressions made +upon other cells.</p> +<p>I may say that Professor Weismann does not more cavalierly +wave aside the mass of evidence collected by Mr. Darwin and a +host of other writers, to the effect that mutilations are +sometimes inherited, than does Mr. Wallace, who says that, +“as regards mutilations, it is generally admitted that they +are not inherited, and there is ample evidence on this +point.” It is indeed generally admitted that +mutilations, when not followed by disease, are very rarely, if +ever, inherited; and Mr. Wallace’s appeal to the +“ample evidence” which he alleges to exist on this +head, is much as though he should say that there is ample +evidence to show that the days are longer in summer than in +winter. “Nevertheless,” he continues, “a +few cases of apparent inheritance of mutilations have been +recorded, and these, if trustworthy, are difficulties in the way +of the theory.” . . . “The often-quoted case of a +disease induced by mutilation being inherited +(Brown-Séquard’s epileptic guinea-pigs) has been +discussed by Professor Weismann and shown to be not +conclusive. The mutilation itself—a section of +certain nerves—was never inherited, but the resulting +epilepsy, or a general state of weakness, deformity, or sores, +was sometimes inherited. It is, however, possible that the +mere injury introduced and encouraged the growth of certain +microbes, which, spreading through the organism, sometimes +reached the germ-cells, and thus transmitted a diseased condition +to the offspring.” <a name="citation35"></a><a +href="#footnote35" class="citation">[35]</a></p> +<p>I suppose a microbe which made guinea-pigs eat their toes off +was communicated to the germ-cells of an unfortunate guinea-pig +which had been already microbed by it, and made the offspring +bite its toes off too. The microbe has a good deal to +answer for.</p> +<p>On the case of the deterioration of horses in the Falkland +Islands after a few generations, Professor Weismann +says:—</p> +<p>“In such a case we have only to assume that the climate +which is unfavourable, and the nutriment which is insufficient +for horses, affect not only the animal as a whole but also its +germ-cells. This would result in the diminution in size of +the germ-cells, the effects upon the offspring being still +further intensified by the insufficient nourishment supplied +during growth. But such results would not depend upon the +transmission by the germ-cells of certain peculiarities due to +the unfavourable climate, which only appear in the full-grown +horse.”</p> +<p>But Professor Weismann does not like such cases, and admits +that he cannot explain the facts in connection with the climatic +varieties of certain butterflies, except “by supposing the +passive acquisition of characters produced by the direct +influence of climate.”</p> +<p>Nevertheless in his next paragraph but one he calls such cases +“doubtful,” and proposes that for the moment they +should be left aside. He accordingly leaves them, but I +have not yet found what other moment he considered auspicious for +returning to them. He tells us that “new experiments +will be necessary, and that he has himself already begun to +undertake them.” Perhaps he will give us the results +of these experiments in some future book—for that they will +prove satisfactory to him can hardly, I think, be doubted. +He writes:—</p> +<p>“Leaving on one side, for the moment, these doubtful and +insufficiently investigated cases, we may still maintain that the +assumption that changes induced by external conditions in the +organism as a whole are communicated to the germ-cells after the +manner indicated in Darwin’s hypothesis of pangenesis, is +wholly unnecessary for the explanation of these phenomena. +Still we cannot exclude the possibility of such a transmission +occasionally occurring, for even if the greater part of the +effects must be attributable to natural selection, there might be +a smaller part in certain cases which depends on this exceptional +factor.”</p> +<p>I repeatedly tried to understand Mr. Darwin’s theory of +pangenesis, and so often failed that I long since gave the matter +up in despair. I did so with the less unwillingness because +I saw that no one else appeared to understand the theory, and +that even Mr. Darwin’s warmest adherents regarded it with +disfavour. If Mr. Darwin means that every cell of the body +throws off minute particles that find their way to the +germ-cells, and hence into the new embryo, this is indeed +difficult of comprehension and belief. If he means that the +rhythms or vibrations that go on ceaselessly in every cell of the +body communicate themselves with greater or less accuracy or +perturbation, as the case may be, to the cells that go to form +offspring, and that since the characteristics of matter are +determined by vibrations, in communicating vibrations they in +effect communicate matter, according to the view put forward in +the last chapter of my book “Luck or Cunning,” <a +name="citation36"></a><a href="#footnote36" +class="citation">[36]</a> then we can better understand it. +I have nothing, however, to do with Mr. Darwin’s theory of +pangenesis beyond avoiding the pretence that I understand either +the theory itself or what Professor Weismann says about it; all I +am concerned with is Professor Weismann’s admission, made +immediately afterwards, that the somatic cells may, and perhaps +sometimes do, impart characteristics to the germ-cells.</p> +<p>“A complete and satisfactory refutation of such an +opinion,” he continues, “cannot be brought forward at +present”; so I suppose we must wait a little longer, but in +the meantime we may again remark that, if we admit even +occasional communication of changes in the somatic cells to the +germ-cells, we have let in the thin end of the wedge, as Mr. +Darwin did when he said that use and disuse did a good deal +towards modification. Buffon, in his first volume on the +lower animals, <a name="citation37"></a><a href="#footnote37" +class="citation">[37]</a> dwells on the impossibility of stopping +the breach once made by admission of variation at all. +“If the point,” he writes, “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 farther 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.” So +with use and disuse and transmission of acquired characteristics +generally—once show that a single structure or instinct is +due to habit in preceding generations, and we can impose no limit +on the results achievable by accumulation in this respect, nor +shall we be wrong in conceiving it as possible that all +specialisation, whether of structure or instinct, may be due +ultimately to habit.</p> +<p>How far this can be shown to be probable is, of course, +another matter, but I am not immediately concerned with this; all +I am concerned with now is to show that the germ-cells not +unfrequently become permanently affected by events that have made +a profound impression upon the somatic cells, in so far that they +transmit an obvious reminiscence of the impression to the embryos +which they go subsequently towards forming. This is all +that is necessary for my case, and I do not find that Professor +Weismann, after all, disputes it.</p> +<p>But here, again, comes the difficulty of saying what Professor +Weismann does, and what he does not, dispute. One moment he +gives all that is wanted for the Lamarckian contention, the next +he denies common-sense the bare necessaries of life. For a +more exhaustive and detailed criticism of Professor +Weismann’s position, I would refer the reader to an +admirably clear article by Mr. Sidney H. Vines, which appeared in +<i>Nature</i>, October 24, 1889. I can only say that while +reading Professor Weismann’s book, I feel as I do when I +read those of Mr. Darwin, and of a good many other writers on +biology whom I need not name. I become like a fly in a +window-pane. I see the sunshine and freedom beyond, and +buzz up and down their pages, ever hopeful to get through them to +the fresh air without, but ever kept back by a mysterious +something, which I feel but cannot either grasp or see. It +was not thus when I read Buffon, Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck; it +is not thus when I read such articles as Mr. Vines’s just +referred to. Love of self-display, and the want of +singleness of mind that it inevitably engenders—these, I +suppose, are the sins that glaze the casements of most +men’s minds; and from these, no matter how hard he tries to +free himself, nor how much he despises them, who is altogether +exempt?</p> +<p>Finally, then, when we consider the immense mass of evidence +referred to briefly, but sufficiently, by Mr. Charles Darwin, and +referred to without other, for the most part, than off-hand +dismissal by Professor Weismann in the last of the essays that +have been recently translated, I do not see how any one who +brings an unbiased mind to the question can hesitate as to the +side on which the weight of testimony inclines. Professor +Weismann declares that “the transmission of mutilations may +be dismissed into the domain of fable.” <a +name="citation38"></a><a href="#footnote38" +class="citation">[38]</a> If so, then, whom can we +trust? What is the use of science at all if the conclusions +of a man as competent as I readily admit Mr. Darwin to have been, +on the evidence laid before him from countless sources, is to be +set aside lightly and without giving the clearest and most cogent +explanation of the why and wherefore? When we see a person +“ostrichising” the evidence which he has to meet, as +clearly as I believe Professor Weismann to be doing, we shall in +nine cases out of ten be right in supposing that he knows the +evidence to be too strong for him.</p> +<h3>THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM—PART III</h3> +<p>Now let me return to the recent division of biological opinion +into two main streams—Lamarckism and Weismannism Both +Lamarckians and Weismannists, not to mention mankind in general, +admit that the better adapted to its surroundings a living form +may be, the more likely it is to outbreed its compeers. The +world at large, again, needs not to be told that the normal +course is not unfrequently deflected through the fortunes of war; +nevertheless, according to Lamarckians and Erasmus-Darwinians, +habitual effort, guided by ever-growing intelligence—that +is to say, by continued increase of power in the matter of +knowing our likes and dislikes—has been so much the main +factor throughout the course of organic development, that the +rest, though not lost sight of, may be allowed to go without +saying. According, on the other hand, to extreme +Charles-Darwinians and Weismannists, habit, effort and +intelligence acquired during the experience of any one life goes +for nothing. Not even a little fraction of it endures to +the benefit of offspring. It dies with him in whom it is +acquired, and the heirs of a man’s body take no interest +therein. To state this doctrine is to arouse instinctive +loathing; it is my fortunate task to maintain that such a +nightmare of waste and death is as baseless as it is +repulsive.</p> +<p>The split in biological opinion occasioned by the deadlock to +which Charles-Darwinism has been reduced, though comparatively +recent, widens rapidly. Ten years ago Lamarck’s name +was mentioned only as a byword for extravagance; now, we cannot +take up a number of <i>Nature</i> without seeing how hot the +contention is between his followers and those of Weismann. +This must be referred, as I implied earlier, to growing +perception that Mr. Darwin should either have gone farther +towards Lamarckism or not so far. In admitting use and +disuse as freely as he did, he gave Lamarckians leverage for the +overthrow of a system based ostensibly on the accumulation of +fortunate accidents. In assigning the lion’s share of +development to the accumulation of fortunate accidents, he +tempted fortuitists to try to cut the ground from under +Lamarck’s feet by denying that the effects of use and +disuse can be inherited at all. When the public had once +got to understand what Lamarck had intended, and wherein Mr. +Charles Darwin had differed from him, it became impossible for +Charles-Darwinians to remain where they were, nor is it easy to +see what course was open to them except to cast about for a +theory by which they could get rid of use and disuse +altogether. Weismannism, therefore, is the inevitable +outcome of the straits to which Charles-Darwinians were reduced +through the way in which their leader had halted between two +opinions.</p> +<p>This is why Charles-Darwinians, from Professor Huxley +downwards, have kept the difference between Lamarck’s +opinions and those of Mr. Darwin so much in the background. +Unwillingness to make this understood is nowhere manifested more +clearly than in Dr. Francis Darwin’s life of his +father. In this work Lamarck is sneered at once or twice, +and told to go away, but there is no attempt to state the two +cases side by side; from which, as from not a little else, I +conclude that Dr. Francis Darwin has descended from his father +with singularly little modification.</p> +<p>Proceeding to the evidence for the transmissions of acquired +habits, I will quote two recently adduced examples from among the +many that have been credibly attested. The first was +contributed to <i>Nature</i> (March 14, 1889) by Professor Marcus +M. Hartog, who wrote:—</p> +<p>“A. B. is moderately myopic and very astigmatic in the +left eye; extremely myopic in the right. As the left eye +gave such bad images for near objects, he was compelled in +childhood to mask it, and acquired the habit of leaning his head +on his left arm for writing, so as to blind that eye, or of +resting the left temple and eye on the hand, with the elbow on +the table. At the age of fifteen the eyes were equalised by +the use of suitable spectacles, and he soon lost the habit +completely and permanently. He is now the father of two +children, a boy and a girl, whose vision (tested repeatedly and +fully) is emmetropic in both eyes, so that they have not +inherited the congenital optical defect of their father. +All the same, they have both of them inherited his early acquired +habit, and need constant watchfulness to prevent their hiding the +left eye when writing, by resting the head on the left forearm or +hand. Imitation is here quite out of the question.</p> +<p>“Considering that every habit involves changes in the +proportional development of the muscular and osseous systems, and +hence probably of the nervous system also, the importance of +inherited habits, natural or acquired, cannot be overlooked in +the general theory of inheritance. I am fully aware that I +shall be accused of flat Lamarckism, but a nickname is not an +argument.”</p> +<p>To this Professor Ray Lankester rejoined (<i>Nature</i>, March +21, 1889):—</p> +<p>“It is not unusual for children to rest the head on the +left forearm or hand when writing, and I doubt whether much value +can be attached to the case described by Professor Hartog. +The kind of observation which his letter suggests is, however, +likely to lead to results either for or against the transmission +of acquired characters. An old friend of mine lost his +right arm when a schoolboy, and has ever since written with his +left. He has a large family and grandchildren, but I have +not heard of any of them showing a disposition to +left-handedness.”</p> +<p>From <i>Nature</i> (March 21, 1889) I take the second instance +communicated by Mr. J. Jenner-Weir, who wrote as +follows:—</p> +<p>“Mr. Marcus M. Hartog’s letter of March 6th, +inserted in last week’s number (p. 462), is a very valuable +contribution to the growing evidence that acquired characters may +be inherited. I have long held the view that such is often +the case, and I have myself observed several instances of the, at +least I may say, apparent fact.</p> +<p>“Many years ago there was a very fine male of the +<i>Capra megaceros</i> in the gardens of the Zoological +Society. To restrain this animal from jumping over the +fence of the enclosure in which he was confined, a long, and +heavy chain was attached to the collar round his neck. He +was constantly in the habit of taking this chain up by his horns +and moving it from one side to another over his back; in doing +this he threw his head very much back, his horns being placed in +a line with the back. The habit had become quite chronic +with him, and was very tiresome to look at. I was very much +astonished to observe that his offspring inherited the habit, and +although it was not necessary to attach a chain to their necks, I +have often seen a young male throwing his horns over his back and +shifting from side to side an imaginary chain. The action +was exactly the same as that of his ancestor. The case of +the kid of this goat appears to me to be parallel to that of +child and parent given by Mr. Hartog. I think at the time I +made this observation I informed Mr. Darwin of the fact by +letter, and he did not accuse me of ‘flat +Lamarckism.’”</p> +<p>To this letter there was no rejoinder. It may be said, +of course, that the action of the offspring in each of these +cases was due to accidental coincidence only. Anything can +be said, but the question turns not on what an advocate can say, +but on what a reasonably intelligent and disinterested jury will +believe; granted they might be mistaken in accepting the +foregoing stories, but the world of science, like that of +commerce, is based on the faith or confidence, which both creates +and sustains them. Indeed the universe itself is but the +creature of faith, for assuredly we know of no other +foundation. There is nothing so generally and reasonably +accepted—not even our own continued identity—but +questions may be raised about it that will shortly prove +unanswerable. We cannot so test every sixpence given us in +change as to be sure that we never take a bad one, and had better +sometimes be cheated than reduce caution to an absurdity. +Moreover, we have seen from the evidence given in my preceding +article that the germ-cells issuing from a parent’s body +can, and do, respond to profound impressions made on the +somatic-cells. This being so, what impressions are more +profound, what needs engage more assiduous attention than those +connected with self-protection, the procuring of food, and the +continuation of the species? If the mere anxiety connected +with an ill-healing wound inflicted on but one generation is +sometimes found to have so impressed the germ-cells that they +hand down its scars to offspring, how much more shall not +anxieties that have directed action of all kinds from birth till +death, not in one generation only but in a longer series of +generations than the mind can realise to itself, modify, and +indeed control, the organisation of every species?</p> +<p>I see Professor S. H. Vines, in the article on +Weismann’s theory referred to in my preceding article, says +Mr. Darwin “held that it was not the sudden variations due +to altered external conditions which become permanent, but those +slowly produced by what he termed ‘the accumulative action +of changed conditions of life.’” Nothing can be +more soundly Lamarckian, and nothing should more conclusively +show that, whatever else Mr. Darwin was, he was not a +Charles-Darwinian; but what evidence other than inferential can +from the nature of the case be adduced in support of this, as I +believe, perfectly correct judgment? None know better than +they who clamour for direct evidence that their master was right +in taking the position assigned to him by Professor Vines, that +they cannot reasonably look for it. With us, as with +themselves, modification proceeds very gradually, and it violates +our principles as much as their own to expect visible permanent +progress, in any single generation, or indeed in any number of +generations of wild species which we have yet had time to +observe. Occasionally we can find such cases, as in that of +<i>Branchipus stagnalis</i>, quoted by Mr. Wallace, or in that of +the New Zealand Kea whose skin, I was assured by the late Sir +Julius von Haast, has already been modified as a consequence of +its change of food. Here we can show that in even a few +generations structure is modified under changed conditions of +existence, but as we believe these cases to occur comparatively +rarely, so it is still more rarely that they occur when and where +we can watch them. Nature is eminently conservative, and +fixity of type, even under considerable change of conditions, is +surely more important for the well-being of any species than an +over-ready power of adaptation to, it may be, passing +changes. There could be no steady progress if each +generation were not mainly bound by the traditions of those that +have gone before it. It is evolution and not incessant +revolution that both parties are upholding; and this being so, +rapid visible modification must be the exception, not the +rule. I have quoted direct evidence adduced by competent +observers, which is, I believe, sufficient to establish the fact +that offspring can be and is sometimes modified by the acquired +habits of a progenitor. I will now proceed to the still +more, as it appears to me, cogent proof afforded by general +considerations.</p> +<p>What, let me ask, are the principal phenomena of +heredity? There must be physical continuity between parent, +or parents, and offspring, so that the offspring is, as Erasmus +Darwin well said, a kind of elongation of the life of the +parent.</p> +<p>Erasmus Darwin put the matter so well that I may as well give +his words in full; he wrote:—</p> +<p>“Owing to the imperfection of language the offspring is +termed a new animal, but is in truth a branch or elongation of +the parent, since a part of the embryon animal is, or was, a part +of the parent, and therefore, in strict language, cannot be said +to be entirely new at the time of its production; and therefore +it may retain some of the habits of the parent system.</p> +<p>“At the earliest period of its existence the embryon +would seem to consist of a living filament with certain +capabilities of irritation, sensation, volition, and association, +and also with some acquired habits or propensities peculiar to +the parent; the former of these are in common with other animals; +the latter seem to distinguish or produce the kind of animal, +whether man or quadruped, with the similarity of feature or form +to the parent.” <a name="citation39"></a><a +href="#footnote39" class="citation">[39]</a></p> +<p>Those who accept evolution insist on unbroken physical +continuity between the earliest known life and ourselves, so that +we both are and are not personally identical with the unicellular +organism from which we have descended in the course of many +millions of years, exactly in the same way as an octogenarian +both is and is not personally identical with the microscopic +impregnate ovum from which he grew up. Everything both is +and is not. There is no such thing as strict identity +between any two things in any two consecutive seconds. In +strictness they are identical and yet not identical, so that in +strictness they violate a fundamental rule of +strictness—namely, that a thing shall never be itself and +not itself at one and the same time; we must choose between logic +and dealing in a practical spirit with time and space; it is not +surprising, therefore, that logic, in spite of the show of +respect outwardly paid to her, is told to stand aside when people +come to practice. In practice identity is generally held to +exist where continuity is only broken slowly and piecemeal, +nevertheless, that occasional periods of even rapid change are +not held to bar identity, appears from the fact that no one +denies this to hold between the microscopically small impregnate +ovum and the born child that springs from it, nor yet, therefore, +between the impregnate ovum and the octogenarian into which the +child grows; for both ovum and octogenarian are held personally +identical with the newborn baby, and things that are identical +with the same are identical with one another.</p> +<p>The first, then, and most important element of heredity is +that there should be unbroken continuity, and hence sameness of +personality, between parents and offspring, in neither more nor +less than the same sense as that in which any other two +personalities are said to be the same. The repetition, +therefore, of its developmental stages by any offspring must be +regarded as something which the embryo repeating them has already +done once, in the person of one or other parent; and if once, +then, as many times as there have been generations between any +given embryo now repeating it, and the point in life from which +we started—say, for example, the amoeba. In the case +of asexually and sexually produced organisms alike, the offspring +must be held to continue the personality of the parent or +parents, and hence on the occasion of every fresh development, to +be repeating something which in the person of its parent or +parents it has done once, and if once, then any number of times, +already.</p> +<p>It is obvious, therefore, that the germ-plasm (or whatever the +fancy word for it may be) of any one generation is as physically +identical with the germ-plasm of its predecessor as any two +things can be. The difference between Professor Weismann +and, we will say, Heringians consists in the fact that the first +maintains the new germ-plasm when on the point of repeating its +developmental processes to take practically no cognisance of +anything that has happened to it since the last occasion on which +it developed itself; while the latter maintain that offspring +takes much the same kind of account of what has happened to it in +the persons of its parents since the last occasion on which it +developed itself, as people in ordinary life take of things that +happen to them. In daily life people let fairly normal +circumstances come and go without much heed as matters of +course. If they have been lucky they make a note of it and +try to repeat their success. If they have been unfortunate +but have recovered rapidly they soon forget it; if they have +suffered long and deeply they grizzle over it and are scared and +scarred by it for a long time. The question is one of +cognisance or non-cognisance on the part of the new germs, of the +more profound impressions made on them while they were one with +their parents, between the occasion of their last preceding +development, and the new course on which they are about to +enter. Those who accept the theory put forward +independently by Professor Hering of Prague (whose work on this +subject is translated in my book, “Unconscious +Memory”) <a name="citation40"></a><a href="#footnote40" +class="citation">[40]</a> and by myself in “Life and +Habit,” <a name="citation41"></a><a href="#footnote41" +class="citation">[41]</a> believe in cognizance, as do +Lamarckians generally. Weismannites, and with them the +orthodoxy of English science, find non-cognisance more +acceptable.</p> +<p>If the Heringian view is accepted, that heredity is only a +mode of memory, and an extension of memory from one generation to +another, then the repetition of its development by any embryo +thus becomes only the repetition of a lesson learned by rote; +and, as I have elsewhere said, our view of life is simplified by +finding that it is no longer an equation of, say, a hundred +unknown quantities, but of ninety-nine only, inasmuch as two of +the unknown quantities prove to be substantially identical. +In this case the inheritance of acquired characteristics cannot +be disputed, for it is postulated in the theory that each embryo +takes note of, remembers and is guided by the profounder +impressions made upon it while in the persons of its parents, +between its present and last preceding development. To +maintain this is to maintain use and disuse to be the main +factors throughout organic development; to deny it is to deny +that use and disuse can have any conceivable effect. For +the detailed reasons which led me to my own conclusions I must +refer the reader to my books, “Life and Habit” <a +name="citation42"></a><a href="#footnote42" +class="citation">[42]</a> and “Unconscious Memory,” +the conclusions of which have been +often adopted, but never, that I have seen, disputed. A +brief <i>résumé</i> of the leading points in the +argument is all that space will here allow me to give.</p> +<p>We have seen that it is a first requirement of heredity that +there shall be physical continuity between parents and +offspring. This holds good with memory. There must be +continued identity between the person remembering and the person +to whom the thing that is remembered happened. We cannot +remember things that happened to some one else, and in our +absence. We can only remember having heard of them. +We have seen, however, that there is as much +<i>bonâ-fide</i> sameness of personality between parents +and offspring up to the time at which the offspring quits the +parent’s body, as there is between the different states of +the parent himself at any two consecutive moments; the offspring +therefore, being one and the same person with its progenitors +until it quits them, can be held to remember what happened to +them within, of course, the limitations to which all memory is +subject, as much as the progenitors can remember what happened +earlier to themselves. Whether it does so remember can only +be settled by observing whether it acts as living beings commonly +do when they are acting under guidance of memory. I will +endeavour to show that, though heredity and habit based on memory +go about in different dresses, yet if we catch them +separately—for they are never seen together—and strip +them there is not a mole nor strawberry-mark, nor trick nor leer +of the one, but we find it in the other also.</p> +<p>What are the moles and strawberry-marks of habitual action, or +actions remembered and thus repeated? First, the more often +we repeat them the more easily and unconsciously we do +them. Look at reading, writing, walking, talking, playing +the piano, &c.; the longer we have practised any one of these +acquired habits, the more easily, automatically and +unconsciously, we perform it. Look, on the other hand, +broadly, at the three points to which I called attention in +“Life and Habit”:—</p> +<p>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.</p> +<p>II. That we are less conscious of and have less control +over eating and drinking [provided the food be normal], +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.</p> +<p>III. That we are most unconscious of and have least +control over our digestion and circulation—powers possessed +even by our invertebrate ancestry, and, geologically speaking, of +extreme antiquity.</p> +<p>I have put the foregoing very broadly, but enough is given to +show the reader the gist of the argument. Let it be noted +that disturbance and departure, to any serious extent, from +normal practice tends to induce resumption of consciousness even +in the case of such old habits as breathing, seeing, and hearing, +digestion and the circulation of the blood. So it is with +habitual actions in general. Let a player be never so +proficient on any instrument, he will be put out if the normal +conditions under which he plays are too widely departed from, and +will then do consciously, if indeed he can do it at all, what he +had hitherto been doing unconsciously. It is an axiom as +regards actions acquired after birth, that we never do them +automatically save as the result of long practice; the stages in +the case of any acquired facility, the inception of which we have +been able to watch, have invariably been from a nothingness of +ignorant impotence to a little somethingness of highly +self-conscious, arduous performance, and thence to the +unselfconsciousness of easy mastery. I saw one year a poor +blind lad of about eighteen sitting on a wall by the wayside at +Varese, playing the concertina with his whole body, and snorting +like a child. The next year the boy no longer snorted, and +he played with his fingers only; the year after that he seemed +hardly to know whether he was playing or not, it came so easily +to him. I know no exception to this rule. Where is +the intricate and at one time difficult art in which perfect +automatic ease has been reached except as the result of long +practice? If, then, wherever we can trace the development +of automatism we find it to have taken this course, is it not +most reasonable to infer that it has taken the same even when it +has risen in regions that are beyond our ken? Ought we not, +whenever we see a difficult action performed, automatically to +suspect antecedent practice? Granted that without the +considerations in regard to identity presented above it would not +have been easy to see where a baby of a day old could have had +the practice which enables it to do as much as it does +unconsciously, but even without these considerations it would +have been more easy to suppose that the necessary opportunities +had not been wanting, than that the easy performance could have +been gained without practice and memory.</p> +<p>When I wrote “Life and Habit” (originally +published in 1877) I said in slightly different words:—</p> +<p>“Shall we say 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 any +one had discovered oxygen—sees and hears, operations that +involve an unconscious knowledge of the facts concerning optics +and acoustics compared with which the conscious discoveries of +Newton are insignificant—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 give them attention, and yet without +mistake, and shall we also say at the same time that it has not +learnt to do them, and never did them before?</p> +<p>“Such an assertion would contradict the whole experience +of mankind.”</p> +<p>I have met with nothing during the thirteen years since the +foregoing was published that has given me any qualms about its +soundness. From the point of view of the law courts and +everyday life it is, of course, nonsense; but in the kingdom of +thought, as in that of heaven, there are many mansions, and what +would be extravagance in the cottage or farmhouse, as it were, of +daily practice, is but common decency in the palace of high +philosophy, wherein dwells evolution. If we leave evolution +alone, we may stick to common practice and the law courts; touch +evolution and we are in another world; not higher, not lower, but +different as harmony from counterpoint. As, however, in the +most absolute counterpoint there is still harmony, and in the +most absolute harmony still counterpoint, so high philosophy +should be still in touch with common sense, and common sense with +high philosophy.</p> +<p>The common-sense view of the matter to people who are not +over-curious and to whom time is money, will be that a baby is +not a baby until it is born, and that when born it should be born +in wedlock. Nevertheless, as a sop to high philosophy, +every baby is allowed to be the offspring of its father and +mother.</p> +<p>The high-philosophy view of the matter is that every human +being is still but a fresh edition of the primordial cell with +the latest additions and corrections; there has been no leap nor +break in continuity anywhere; the man of to-day is the primordial +cell of millions of years ago as truly as he is the himself of +yesterday; he can only be denied to be the one on grounds that +will prove him not to be the other. Every one is both +himself and all his direct ancestors and descendants as well; +therefore, if we would be logical, he is one also with all his +cousins, no matter how distant, for he and they are alike +identical with the primordial cell, and we have already noted it +as an axiom that things which are identical with the same are +identical with one another. This is practically making him +one with all living things, whether animal or vegetable, that +ever have existed or ever will—something of all which may +have been in the mind of Sophocles when he wrote:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Nor seest thou yet the gathering hosts of +ill<br /> +That shall en-one thee both with thine own self<br /> +And with thine offspring.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And all this has come of admitting that a man may be the same +person for two days running! As for sopping common sense it +will be enough to say that these remarks are to be taken in a +strictly scientific sense, and have no appreciable importance as +regards life and conduct. True they deal with the +foundations on which all life and conduct are based, but like +other foundations they are hidden out of sight, and the sounder +they are, the less we trouble ourselves about them.</p> +<p>What other main common features between heredity and memory +may we note besides the fact that neither can exist without that +kind of physical continuity which we call personal +identity? First, the development of the embryo proceeds in +an established order; so must all habitual actions based on +memory. Disturb the normal order and the performance is +arrested. The better we know “God save the +Queen,” the less easily can we play or sing it +backwards. The return of memory again depends on the return +of ideas associated with the particular thing that is +remembered—we remember nothing but for the presence of +these, and when enough of these are presented to us we remember +everything. So, if the development of an embryo is due to +memory, we should suppose the memory of the impregnate ovum to +revert not to yesterday, when it was in the persons of its +parents, but to the last occasion on which it was an impregnate +ovum. The return of the old environment and the presence of +old associations would at once involve recollection of the course +that should be next taken, and the same should happen throughout +the whole course of development. The actual course of +development presents precisely the phenomena agreeable with +this. For fuller treatment of this point I must refer the +reader to the chapter on the abeyance of memory in my book +“Life and Habit,” already referred to.</p> +<p>Secondly, we remember best our last few performances of any +given kind, so our present performance will probably resemble +some one or other of these; we remember our earlier performances +by way of residuum only, but every now and then we revert to an +earlier habit. This feature of memory is manifested in +heredity by the way in which offspring commonly resembles most +its nearer ancestors, but sometimes reverts to earlier +ones. Brothers and sisters, each as it were giving their +own version of the same story, but in different words, should +generally resemble each other more closely than more distant +relations. And this is what actually we find.</p> +<p>Thirdly, the introduction of slightly new elements into a +method already established varies it beneficially; the new is +soon fused with the old, and the monotony ceases to be +oppressive. But if the new be too foreign, we cannot fuse +the old and the new—nature seeming to hate equally too wide +a deviation from ordinary practice and none at all. This +fact reappears in heredity as the beneficial effects of +occasional crossing on the one hand, and on the other, in the +generally observed sterility of hybrids. If heredity be an +affair of memory, how can an embryo, say of a mule, be expected +to build up a mule on the strength of but two +mule-memories? Hybridism causes a fault in the chain of +memory, and it is to this cause that the usual sterility of +hybrids must be referred.</p> +<p>Fourthly, it requires many repeated impressions to fix a +method firmly, but when it has been engrained into us we cease to +have much recollection of the manner in which it came to be so, +or indeed of any individual repetition, but sometimes a single +impression, if prolonged as well as profound, produces a lasting +impression and is liable to return with sudden force, and then to +go on returning to us at intervals. As a general rule, +however, abnormal impressions cannot long hold their own against +the overwhelming preponderance of normal authority. This +appears in heredity as the normal non-inheritance of mutilations +on the one hand, and on the other as their occasional inheritance +in the case of injuries followed by disease.</p> +<p>Fifthly, if heredity and memory are essentially the same, we +should expect that no animal would develop new structures of +importance after the age at which its species begins ordinarily +to continue its race; for we cannot suppose offspring to remember +anything that happens to the parent subsequently to the +parent’s ceasing to contain the offspring within +itself. From the average age, therefore, of reproduction, +offspring should cease to have any farther steady, continuous +memory to fall back upon; what memory there is should be full of +faults, and as such unreliable. An organism ought to +develop as long as it is backed by memory—that is to say, +until the average age at which reproduction begins; it should +then continue to go for a time on the impetus already received, +and should eventually decay through failure of any memory to +support it, and tell it what to do. This corresponds +absolutely with what we observe in organisms generally, and +explains, on the one hand, why the age of puberty marks the +beginning of completed development—a riddle hitherto not +only unexplained but, so far as I have seen, unasked; it +explains, on the other hand, the phenomena of old +age—hitherto without even attempt at explanation.</p> +<p>Sixthly, those organisms that are the longest in reaching +maturity should on the average be the longest-lived, for they +will have received the most momentous impulse from the weight of +memory behind them. This harmonises with the latest opinion +as to the facts. In his article on Weismann in the +<i>Contemporary Review</i> for May 1890, Mr. Romanes writes: +“Professor Weismann has shown that there is throughout the +metazoa a general correlation between the natural lifetime of +individuals composing any given species, and the age at which +they reach maturity or first become capable of +procreation.” This, I believe, has been the +conclusion generally arrived at by biologists for some years +past.</p> +<p>Lateness, then, in the average age of reproduction appears to +be the principle underlying longevity. There does not +appear at first sight to be much connection between such distinct +and apparently disconnected phenomena as 1, the orderly normal +progress of development; 2, atavism and the resumption of feral +characteristics; 3, the more ordinary resemblance <i>inter se</i> +of nearer relatives; 4, the benefit of an occasional cross, and +the usual sterility of hybrids; 5, the unconsciousness with which +alike bodily development and ordinary physiological functions +proceed, so long as they are normal; 6, the ordinary +non-inheritance, but occasional inheritance of mutilations; 7, +the fact that puberty indicates the approach of maturity; 8, the +phenomena of middle life and old age; 9, the principle underlying +longevity. These phenomena have no conceivable bearing on +one another until heredity and memory are regarded as part of the +same story. Identify these two things, and I know no +phenomenon of heredity that does not immediately become +infinitely more intelligible. Is it conceivable that a +theory which harmonises so many facts hitherto regarded as +without either connection or explanation should not deserve at +any rate consideration from those who profess to take an interest +in biology?</p> +<p>It is not as though the theory were unknown, or had been +condemned by our leading men of science. Professor Ray +Lankester introduced it to English readers in an appreciative +notice of Professor Hering’s address, which appeared in +<i>Nature</i>, July 18, 1876. He wrote to the +<i>Athenæum</i>, March 24, 1884, and claimed credit for +having done so, but I do not believe he has ever said more in +public about it than what I have here referred to. Mr. +Romanes did indeed try to crush it in <i>Nature</i>, January 27, +1881, but in 1883, in his “Mental Evolution in +Animals,” he adopted its main conclusion without +acknowledgment. The <i>Athenæum</i>, to my unbounded +surprise, called him to task for this (March 1, 1884), and since +that time he has given the Heringian theory a sufficiently wide +berth. Mr. Wallace showed himself favourably enough +disposed towards the view that heredity and memory are part of +the same story when he reviewed my book “Life and +Habit” in <i>Nature</i>, March 27, 1879, but he has never +since betrayed any sign of being aware that such a theory +existed. Mr. Herbert Spencer wrote to the +<i>Athenæum</i> (April 5, 1884), and claimed the theory for +himself, but, in spite of his doing this, he has never, that I +have seen, referred to the matter again. I have dealt +sufficiently with his claim in my book, “Luck or +Cunning.” <a name="citation43"></a><a href="#footnote43" +class="citation">[43]</a> Lastly, Professor Hering himself +has never that I know of touched his own theory since the single +short address read in 1870, and translated by me in 1881. +Every one, even its originator, except myself, seems afraid to +open his mouth about it. Of course the inference suggests +itself that other people have more sense than I have. I +readily admit it; but why have so many of our leaders shown such +a strong hankering after the theory, if there is nothing in +it?</p> +<p>The deadlock that I have pointed out as existing in Darwinism +will, I doubt not, lead ere long to a consideration of Professor +Hering’s theory. English biologists are little likely +to find Weismann satisfactory for long, and if he breaks down +there is nothing left for them but Lamarck, supplemented by the +important and elucidatory corollary on his theory proposed by +Professor Hering. When the time arrives for this to obtain +a hearing it will be confirmed, doubtless, by arguments clearer +and more forcible than any I have been able to adduce; I shall +then be delighted to resign the championship which till then I +shall continue, as for some years past, to have much pleasure in +sustaining. Heretofore my satisfaction has mainly lain in +the fact that more of our prominent men of science have seemed +anxious to claim the theory than to refute it; in the confidence +thus engendered I leave it to any fuller consideration which the +outline I have above given may incline the reader to bestow upon +it.</p> +<h2>Footnotes:</h2> +<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1" +class="footnote">[1]</a> Published in the <i>Universal +Review</i>, July 1888.</p> +<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2" +class="footnote">[2]</a> Published in the <i>Universal +Review</i>, December 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3" +class="footnote">[3]</a> Published in the <i>Universal +Review</i>, May 1889. As I have several times been asked if +the letters here reprinted were not fabricated by Butler himself, +I take this opportunity of stating that they are authentic in +every particular, and that the originals are now in my +possession.—R. A. S.</p> +<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4" +class="footnote">[4]</a> An address delivered at the +Somerville Club, February 27, 1895.</p> +<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5" +class="footnote">[5]</a> “The Foundations of +Belief,” by the Right Hon. A. J. Balfour. Longmans, +1895, p. 48.</p> +<p><a name="footnote6"></a><a href="#citation6" +class="footnote">[6]</a> Published in the <i>Universal +Review</i>, November 1888.</p> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> Since this essay was written it +has been ascertained by Cavaliere Francesco Negri, of Casale +Monferrato, that Tabachetti died in 1615. If, therefore, +the Sanctuary of Montrigone was not founded until 1631, it is +plain that Tabachetti cannot have worked there. All the +latest discoveries about Tabachetti’s career will be found +in Cavaliere Negri’s pamphlet “Il Santuario di +Crea” (Alessandria, 1902). See also note on p. +154.—R. A. S.</p> +<p><a name="footnote8"></a><a href="#citation8" +class="footnote">[8]</a> Published in the <i>Universal +Review</i>, December 1889.</p> +<p><a name="footnote9"></a><a href="#citation9" +class="footnote">[9]</a> Longmans & Co., 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10" +class="footnote">[10]</a> Longmans & Co., 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11" +class="footnote">[11]</a> Published in the <i>Universal +Review</i>, November 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote12"></a><a href="#citation12" +class="footnote">[12]</a> Longmans & Co., 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote13"></a><a href="#citation13" +class="footnote">[13]</a> M. Ruppen’s words run: +“1687 wurde die Kapelle zur hohen Stiege gebaut, 1747 durch +Zusatz vergrössert und 1755 mit Orgeln ausgestattet. +Anton Ruppen, ein geschickter Steinhauer mid Maurermeister +leitete den Kapellebau, und machte darin das kleinere +Altärlein. Bei der hohen Stiege war früher kein +Gebetshäuslein; nur ein wunderthätiges Bildlein der +Mutter Gottes stand da in einer Mauer vor dem fromme Hirten und +viel andächtiges Volk unter freiem Himmel beteten.</p> +<p>“1709 wurden die kleinen Kapellelein die 15 Geheimnisse +des Psalters vorstelland auf dem Wege zur hohen Stiege +gebaut. Jeder Haushalter des Viertels Fée +übernahm den Bau eines dieser Geheimnisskapellen, und ein +besonderer Gutthäter dieser frommen Unternehmung war +Heinrich Andenmatten, nachher Bruder der Geselischaft +Jesu.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote14"></a><a href="#citation14" +class="footnote">[14]</a> The story of Tabachetti’s +incarceration is very doubtful. Cavaliere F. Negri, to +whose book on Tabachetti and his work at Crea I have already +referred the reader, does not mention it. Tabachetti left +his native Dinant in 1585, and from that date until his death in +1615 he appears to have worked chiefly at Varallo and Crea. +There is a document in existence stating that in 1588 he executed +a statue for the hermitage of S. Rocco, at Crea, which, if it is +to be relied on, disposes both of the incarceration and of the +visit to Saas. It is possible, however, that the date is +1598, in which case Butler’s theory of the visit to Saas +may hold good. In 1590 Tabachetti was certainly at Varallo, +and again in 1594, 1599, and 1602. He died in 1615, +possibly during a visit to Varallo, though his home at that time +was Costigliole, near Asti.—R. A. S.</p> +<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15" +class="footnote">[15]</a> This is thus chronicled by M. +Ruppen: “1589 den 9 September war eine Wassergrösse, +die viel Schaden verursachte. Die Thalstrasse, die von den +Steinmatten an bis zur Kirche am Ufer der Visp lag, wurde ganz +zerstört. Man ward gezwungen eine neue Strasse in +einiger Entfernung vom Wasser durch einen alten Fussweg +auszuhauen welche vier und einerhalben Viertel der Klafter, oder +6 Schuh und 9 Zoll breit soilte.” (p. 43).</p> +<p><a name="footnote16"></a><a href="#citation16" +class="footnote">[16]</a> A lecture delivered at the +Working Men’s College in Great Ormond Street, March 15, +1890; rewritten and delivered again at the Somerville Club, +February 13, 1894.</p> +<p><a name="footnote17"></a><a href="#citation17" +class="footnote">[17]</a> “Correlation of +Forces”: Longmans, 1874, p. 15.</p> +<p><a name="footnote18"></a><a href="#citation18" +class="footnote">[18]</a> “Three Lectures on the +Science of Language,” Longmans, 1889, p. 4.</p> +<p><a name="footnote19"></a><a href="#citation19" +class="footnote">[19]</a> “Science of Thought,” +Longmans, 1887, p. 9.</p> +<p><a name="footnote20"></a><a href="#citation20" +class="footnote">[20]</a> Published in the <i>Universal +Review</i>, April, May, and June 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote21"></a><a href="#citation21" +class="footnote">[21]</a> “Voyages of the +<i>Adventure</i> and <i>Beagle</i>,” iii. p. 237.</p> +<p><a name="footnote22"></a><a href="#citation22" +class="footnote">[22]</a> “Luck, or Cunning, as the +main means of Organic Modification?” (Longmans), pp. +179, 180.</p> +<p><a name="footnote23"></a><a href="#citation23" +class="footnote">[23]</a> <i>Journals of the Proceedings of +the Linnean Society</i> (Zoology, vol. iii.), 1859, p. 61.</p> +<p><a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24" +class="footnote">[24]</a> “Darwinism” +(Macmillan, 1889), p. 129.</p> +<p><a name="footnote25"></a><a href="#citation25" +class="footnote">[25]</a> Longmans, 1890, p. 376.</p> +<p><a name="footnote26"></a><a href="#citation26" +class="footnote">[26]</a> See <i>Nature</i>, March 6, +1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27" +class="footnote">[27]</a> “Origin of Species,” +sixth edition, 1888, vol. i. p. 168.</p> +<p><a name="footnote28"></a><a href="#citation28" +class="footnote">[28]</a> “Origin of Species,” +sixth edition, 1888, vol. ii. p. 261.</p> +<p><a name="footnote29"></a><a href="#citation29" +class="footnote">[29]</a> Mr. J. T. Cunningham, of the +Marine Biological Laboratory, Plymouth, has called my attention +to the fact that I have ascribed to Professor Ray Lankester a +criticism on Mr. Wallace’s remarks upon the eyes of certain +fiat-fish, which Professor Ray Lankester was, in reality, only +adopting—with full acknowledgment—from Mr. +Cunningham. Mr. Cunningham has left it to me whether to +correct my omission publicly or not, but he would so plainly +prefer my doing so that I consider myself bound to insert this +note. Curiously enough I find that in my book +“Evolution Old and New,” I gave what Lamarck actually +said upon the eyes of flat-fish, and having been led to return to +the subject, I may as well quote his words. He +wrote:—</p> +<p>“Need—always occasioned by the circumstances in +which an animal is placed, and followed by sustained efforts at +gratification—can not only modify an organ—that is to +say, augment or reduce it—but can change its position when +the case requires its removal.</p> +<p>“Ocean fishes have occasion to see what is on either +side of them, and have their eyes accordingly placed on either +side of their head. Some fishes, however, have their abode +near coasts on submarine banks and inclinations, and are thus +forced to flatten themselves as much as possible in order to get +as near as they can to the shore. In this situation they +receive more light from above than from below, and find it +necessary to pay attention to whatever happens to be above them; +this need has involved the displacement of their eyes, which now +take the remarkable position which we observe in the case of +soles, turbots, plaice, &c. The transfer of position is +not even yet complete in the case of these fishes, and the eyes +are not, therefore, symmetrically placed; but they are so with +the skate, whose head and whole body are equally disposed on +either side a longitudinal section. Hence the eyes of this +fish are placed symmetrically upon the uppermost +<i>side</i>.”—<i>Philosophie Zoologique</i>, tom. i., +pp. 250, 251. Edition C. Martins. Paris, 1873.</p> +<p><a name="footnote30"></a><a href="#citation30" +class="footnote">[30]</a> “Essays on Heredity,” +&c., Oxford, 1889, p. 171.</p> +<p><a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31" +class="footnote">[31]</a> “Essays on Heredity,” +&c., Oxford, 1889, p. 266.</p> +<p><a name="footnote32"></a><a href="#citation32" +class="footnote">[32]</a> “Darwinism,” 1889, p. +440.</p> +<p><a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33" +class="footnote">[33]</a> Page 83.</p> +<p><a name="footnote34"></a><a href="#citation34" +class="footnote">[34]</a> Vol. i. p. 466, &c. Ed. +1885.</p> +<p><a name="footnote35"></a><a href="#citation35" +class="footnote">[35]</a> “Darwinism,” p. +440.</p> +<p><a name="footnote36"></a><a href="#citation36" +class="footnote">[36]</a> Longmans, 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote37"></a><a href="#citation37" +class="footnote">[37]</a> Tom. iv. p. 383. Ed. +1753.</p> +<p><a name="footnote38"></a><a href="#citation38" +class="footnote">[38]</a> Essays, &c., p. 447.</p> +<p><a name="footnote39"></a><a href="#citation39" +class="footnote">[39]</a> “Zoonomia,” 1794, +vol. i. p. 480.</p> +<p><a name="footnote40"></a><a href="#citation40" +class="footnote">[40]</a> Longmans, 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote41"></a><a href="#citation41" +class="footnote">[41]</a> Longmans, 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote42"></a><a href="#citation42" +class="footnote">[42]</a> Longmans, 1890.</p> +<p><a name="footnote43"></a><a href="#citation43" +class="footnote">[43]</a> Longmans, 1890.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS ON LIFE, ART AND SCIENCE***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 3461-h.htm or 3461-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/6/3461 + + + +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. 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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: Essays on Life, Art and Science + + +Author: Samuel Butler + +Editor: R. A. Streatfeild + +Release Date: December 27, 2007 [eBook #3461] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS ON LIFE, ART AND SCIENCE*** + + +Transcribed from the 1908 A. C. Fifield edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + +ESSAYS ON LIFE +ART AND SCIENCE + + +BY +SAMUEL BUTLER + +AUTHOR OF "EREWHON," "EREWHON RE-VISITED," +"THE WAY OF ALL FLESH," ETC. + +EDITED BY +R. A. STREATFEILD + +LONDON +A. C. FIFIELD +1908 + +Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO +At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh. + +Contents: + +Introduction +Quis Desiderio? +Ramblings in Cheapside +The Aunt, The Nieces, and the Dog +How to make the best of life +The Sanctuary of Montrigone +A Medieval Girl School +Art in the Valley of Saas +Thought and Language +The Deadlock in Darwinism + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +It is hardly necessary to apologise for the miscellaneous character of +the following collection of essays. Samuel Butler was a man of such +unusual versatility, and his interests were so many and so various that +his literary remains were bound to cover a wide field. Nevertheless it +will be found that several of the subjects to which he devoted much time +and labour are not represented in these pages. I have not thought it +necessary to reprint any of the numerous pamphlets and articles which he +wrote upon the Iliad and Odyssey, since these were all merged in "The +Authoress of the Odyssey," which gives his matured views upon everything +relating to the Homeric poems. For a similar reason I have not included +an essay on the evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, which he +printed in 1865 for private circulation, since he subsequently made +extensive use of it in "The Fair Haven." + +Two of the essays in this collection were originally delivered as +lectures; the remainder were published in _The Universal Review_ during +1888, 1889, and 1890. + +I should perhaps explain why two other essays of his, which also appeared +in _The Universal Review_, have been omitted. + +The first of these, entitled "L'Affaire Holbein-Rippel," relates to a +drawing of Holbein's "Danse des Paysans," in the Basle Museum, which is +usually described as a copy, but which Butler believed to be the work of +Holbein himself. This essay requires to be illustrated in so elaborate a +manner that it was impossible to include it in a book of this size. + +The second essay, which is a sketch of the career of the sculptor +Tabachetti, was published as the first section of an article entitled "A +Sculptor and a Shrine," of which the second section is here given under +the title, "The Sanctuary of Montrigone." The section devoted to the +sculptor represents all that Butler then knew about Tabachetti, but since +it was written various documents have come to light, principally owing to +the investigations of Cavaliere Francesco Negri, of Casale Monferrato, +which negative some of Butler's most cherished conclusions. Had Butler +lived he would either have rewritten his essay in accordance with +Cavaliere Negri's discoveries, of which he fully recognised the value, or +incorporated them into the revised edition of "Ex Voto," which he +intended to publish. As it stands, the essay requires so much revision +that I have decided to omit it altogether, and to postpone giving English +readers a full account of Tabachetti's career until a second edition of +"Ex Voto" is required. Meanwhile I have given a brief summary of the +main facts of Tabachetti's life in a note (page 154) to the essay on "Art +in the Valley of Saas." Any one who wishes for further details of the +sculptor and his work will find them in Cavaliere Negri's pamphlet, "Il +Santuario di Crea" (Alessandria, 1902). + +The three essays grouped together under the title of "The Deadlock in +Darwinism" may be regarded as a postscript to Butler's four books on +evolution, viz., "Life and Habit," "Evolution, Old and New," "Unconscious +Memory" and "Luck or Cunning." An occasion for the publication of these +essays seemed to be afforded by the appearance in 1889 of Mr. Alfred +Russel Wallace's "Darwinism"; and although nearly fourteen years have +elapsed since they were published in the _Universal Review_, I have no +fear that they will be found to be out of date. How far, indeed, the +problem embodied in the deadlock of which Butler speaks is from solution +was conclusively shown by the correspondence which appeared in the +_Times_ in May 1903, occasioned by some remarks made at University +College by Lord Kelvin in moving a vote of thanks to Professor Henslow +after his lecture on "Present Day Rationalism." Lord Kelvin's claim for +a recognition of the fact that in organic nature scientific thought is +compelled to accept the idea of some kind of directive power, and his +statement that biologists are coming once more to a firm acceptance of a +vital principle, drew from several distinguished men of science retorts +heated enough to prove beyond a doubt that the gulf between the two main +divisions of evolutionists is as wide to-day as it was when Butler wrote. +It will be well, perhaps, for the benefit of readers who have not +followed the history of the theory of evolution during its later +developments, to state in a few words what these two main divisions are. +All evolutionists agree that the differences between species are caused +by the accumulation and transmission of variations, but they do not agree +as to the causes to which the variations are due. The view held by the +older evolutionists, Buffon, Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck, who have been +followed by many modern thinkers, including Herbert Spencer and Butler, +is that the variations occur mainly as the result of effort and design; +the opposite view, which is that advocated by Mr. Wallace in "Darwinism," +is that the variations occur merely as the result of chance. The former +is sometimes called the theological view, because it recognises the +presence in organic nature of design, whether it be called creative +power, directive force, directivity, or vital principle; the latter view, +in which the existence of design is absolutely negatived, is now usually +described as Weismannism, from the name of the writer who has been its +principal advocate in recent years. + +In conclusion, I must thank my friend Mr. Henry Festing Jones most warmly +for the invaluable assistance which he has given me in preparing these +essays for publication, in correcting the proofs, and in compiling the +introduction and notes. + +R. A. STREATFEILD. + + + + +QUIS DESIDERIO . . . ? {1} + + +Like Mr. Wilkie Collins, I, too, have been asked to lay some of my +literary experiences before the readers of the _Universal Review_. It +occurred to me that the _Review_ must be indeed universal before it could +open its pages to one so obscure as myself; but, nothing daunted by the +distinguished company among which I was for the first time asked to move, +I resolved to do as I was told, and went to the British Museum to see +what books I had written. Having refreshed my memory by a glance at the +catalogue, I was about to try and diminish the large and ever-increasing +circle of my non-readers when I became aware of a calamity that brought +me to a standstill, and indeed bids fair, so far as I can see at present, +to put an end to my literary existence altogether. + +I should explain that I cannot write unless I have a sloping desk, and +the reading-room of the British Museum, where alone I can compose freely, +is unprovided with sloping desks. Like every other organism, if I cannot +get exactly what I want I make shift with the next thing to it; true, +there are no desks in the reading-room, but, as I once heard a visitor +from the country say, "it contains a large number of very interesting +works." I know it was not right, and hope the Museum authorities will +not be severe upon me if any of them reads this confession; but I wanted +a desk, and set myself to consider which of the many very interesting +works which a grateful nation places at the disposal of its would-be +authors was best suited for my purpose. + +For mere reading I suppose one book is pretty much as good as another; +but the choice of a desk-book is a more serious matter. It must be +neither too thick nor too thin; it must be large enough to make a +substantial support; it must be strongly bound so as not to yield or +give; it must not be too troublesome to carry backwards and forwards; and +it must live on shelf C, D, or E, so that there need be no stooping or +reaching too high. These are the conditions which a really good book +must fulfil; simple, however, as they are, it is surprising how few +volumes comply with them satisfactorily; moreover, being perhaps too +sensitively conscientious, I allowed another consideration to influence +me, and was sincerely anxious not to take a book which would be in +constant use for reference by readers, more especially as, if I did this, +I might find myself disturbed by the officials. + +For weeks I made experiments upon sundry poetical and philosophical +works, whose names I have forgotten, but could not succeed in finding my +ideal desk, until at length, more by luck than cunning, I happened to +light upon Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians," which I had no sooner +tried than I discovered it to be the very perfection and _ne plus ultra_ +of everything that a book should be. It lived in Case No. 2008, and I +accordingly took at once to sitting in Row B, where for the last dozen +years or so I have sat ever since. + +The first thing I have done whenever I went to the Museum has been to +take down Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians" and carry it to my seat. +It is not the custom of modern writers to refer to the works to which +they are most deeply indebted, and I have never, that I remember, +mentioned it by name before; but it is to this book alone that I have +looked for support during many years of literary labour, and it is round +this to me invaluable volume that all my own have page by page grown up. +There is none in the Museum to which I have been under anything like such +constant obligation, none which I can so ill spare, and none which I +would choose so readily if I were allowed to select one single volume and +keep it for my own. + +On finding myself asked for a contribution to the _Universal Review_, I +went, as I have explained, to the Museum, and presently repaired to +bookcase No. 2008 to get my favourite volume. Alas! it was in the room +no longer. It was not in use, for its place was filled up already; +besides, no one ever used it but myself. Whether the ghost of the late +Mr. Frost has been so eminently unchristian as to interfere, or whether +the authorities have removed the book in ignorance of the steady demand +which there has been for it on the part of at least one reader, are +points I cannot determine. All I know is that the book is gone, and I +feel as Wordsworth is generally supposed to have felt when he became +aware that Lucy was in her grave, and exclaimed so emphatically that this +would make a considerable difference to him, or words to that effect. + +Now I think of it, Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians" was very like +Lucy. The one resided at Dovedale in Derbyshire, the other in Great +Russell Street, Bloomsbury. I admit that I do not see the resemblance +here at this moment, but if I try to develop my perception I shall +doubtless ere long find a marvellously striking one. In other respects, +however, than mere local habitat the likeness is obvious. Lucy was not +particularly attractive either inside or out--no more was Frost's "Lives +of Eminent Christians"; there were few to praise her, and of those few +still fewer could bring themselves to like her; indeed, Wordsworth +himself seems to have been the only person who thought much about her one +way or the other. In like manner, I believe I was the only reader who +thought much one way or the other about Frost's "Lives of Eminent +Christians," but this in itself was one of the attractions of the book; +and as for the grief we respectively felt and feel, I believe my own to +be as deep as Wordsworth's, if not more so. + +I said above, "as Wordsworth is generally supposed to have felt"; for any +one imbued with the spirit of modern science will read Wordsworth's poem +with different eyes from those of a mere literary critic. He will note +that Wordsworth is most careful not to explain the nature of the +difference which the death of Lucy will occasion to him. He tells us +that there will be a difference; but there the matter ends. The +superficial reader takes it that he was very sorry she was dead; it is, +of course, possible that he may have actually been so, but he has not +said this. On the contrary, he has hinted plainly that she was ugly, and +generally disliked; she was only like a violet when she was half-hidden +from the view, and only fair as a star when there were so few stars out +that it was practically impossible to make an invidious comparison. If +there were as many as even two stars the likeness was felt to be at an +end. If Wordsworth had imprudently promised to marry this young person +during a time when he had been unusually long in keeping to good +resolutions, and had afterwards seen some one whom he liked better, then +Lucy's death would undoubtedly have made a considerable difference to +him, and this is all that he has ever said that it would do. What right +have we to put glosses upon the masterly reticence of a poet, and credit +him with feelings possibly the very reverse of those he actually +entertained? + +Sometimes, indeed, I have been inclined to think that a mystery is being +hinted at more dark than any critic has suspected. I do not happen to +possess a copy of the poem, but the writer, if I am not mistaken, says +that "few could know when Lucy ceased to be." "Ceased to be" is a +suspiciously euphemistic expression, and the words "few could know" are +not applicable to the ordinary peaceful death of a domestic servant such +as Lucy appears to have been. No matter how obscure the deceased, any +number of people commonly can know the day and hour of his or her demise, +whereas in this case we are expressly told it would be impossible for +them to do so. Wordsworth was nothing if not accurate, and would not +have said that few could know, but that few actually did know, unless he +was aware of circumstances that precluded all but those implicated in the +crime of her death from knowing the precise moment of its occurrence. If +Lucy was the kind of person not obscurely pourtrayed in the poem; if +Wordsworth had murdered her, either by cutting her throat or smothering +her, in concert, perhaps, with his friends Southey and Coleridge; and if +he had thus found himself released from an engagement which had become +irksome to him, or possibly from the threat of an action for breach of +promise, then there is not a syllable in the poem with which he crowns +his crime that is not alive with meaning. On any other supposition to +the general reader it is unintelligible. + +We cannot be too guarded in the interpretations we put upon the words of +great poets. Take the young lady who never loved the dear gazelle--and I +don't believe she did; we are apt to think that Moore intended us to see +in this creation of his fancy a sweet, amiable, but most unfortunate +young woman, whereas all he has told us about her points to an exactly +opposite conclusion. In reality, he wished us to see a young lady who +had been an habitual complainer from her earliest childhood; whose plants +had always died as soon as she bought them, while those belonging to her +neighbours had flourished. The inference is obvious, nor can we +reasonably doubt that Moore intended us to draw it; if her plants were +the very first to fade away, she was evidently the very first to neglect +or otherwise maltreat them. She did not give them enough water, or left +the door of her fern-ease open when she was cooking her dinner at the gas +stove, or kept them too near the paraffin oil, or other like folly; and +as for her temper, see what the gazelles did; as long as they did not +know her "well," they could just manage to exist, but when they got to +understand her real character, one after another felt that death was the +only course open to it, and accordingly died rather than live with such a +mistress. True, the young lady herself said the gazelles loved her; but +disagreeable people are apt to think themselves amiable, and in view of +the course invariably taken by the gazelles themselves any one accustomed +to weigh evidence will hold that she was probably mistaken. + +I must, however, return to Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians." I will +leave none of the ambiguity about my words in which Moore and Wordsworth +seem to have delighted. I am very sorry the book is gone, and know not +where to turn for its successor. Till I have found a substitute I can +write no more, and I do not know how to find even a tolerable one. I +should try a volume of Migne's "Complete Course of Patrology," but I do +not like books in more than one volume, for the volumes vary in +thickness, and one never can remember which one took; the four volumes, +however, of Bede in Giles's "Anglican Fathers" are not open to this +objection, and I have reserved them for favourable consideration. +Mather's "Magnalia" might do, but the binding does not please me; +Cureton's "Corpus Ignatianum" might also do if it were not too thin. I +do not like taking Norton's "Genuineness of the Gospels," as it is just +possible some one may be wanting to know whether the Gospels are genuine +or not, and be unable to find out because I have got Mr. Norton's book. +Baxter's "Church History of England," Lingard's "Anglo-Saxon Church," and +Cardwell's "Documentary Annals," though none of them as good as Frost, +are works of considerable merit; but on the whole I think Arvine's +"Cyclopedia of Moral and Religious Anecdote" is perhaps the one book in +the room which comes within measurable distance of Frost. I should +probably try this book first, but it has a fatal objection in its too +seductive title. "I am not curious," as Miss Lottie Venne says in one of +her parts, "but I like to know," and I might be tempted to pervert the +book from its natural uses and open it, so as to find out what kind of a +thing a moral and religious anecdote is. I know, of course, that there +are a great many anecdotes in the Bible, but no one thinks of calling +them either moral or religious, though some of them certainly seem as if +they might fairly find a place in Mr. Arvine's work. There are some +things, however, which it is better not to know, and take it all round I +do not think I should be wise in putting myself in the way of temptation, +and adopting Arvine as the successor to my beloved and lamented Frost. + +Some successor I must find, or I must give up writing altogether, and +this I should be sorry to do. I have only as yet written about a third, +or from that--counting works written but not published--to a half, of the +books which I have set myself to write. It would not so much matter if +old age was not staring me in the face. Dr. Parr said it was "a beastly +shame for an old man not to have laid down a good cellar of port in his +youth"; I, like the greater number, I suppose, of those who write books +at all, write in order that I may have something to read in my old age +when I can write no longer. I know what I shall like better than any one +can tell me, and write accordingly; if my career is nipped in the bud, as +seems only too likely, I really do not know where else I can turn for +present agreeable occupation, nor yet how to make suitable provision for +my later years. Other writers can, of course, make excellent provision +for their own old ages, but they cannot do so for mine, any more than I +should succeed if I were to try to cater for theirs. It is one of those +cases in which no man can make agreement for his brother. + +I have no heart for continuing this article, and if I had, I have nothing +of interest to say. No one's literary career can have been smoother or +more unchequered than mine. I have published all my books at my own +expense, and paid for them in due course. What can be conceivably more +unromantic? For some years I had a little literary grievance against the +authorities of the British Museum because they would insist on saying in +their catalogue that I had published three sermons on Infidelity in the +year 1820. I thought I had not, and got them out to see. They were +rather funny, but they were not mine. Now, however, this grievance has +been removed. I had another little quarrel with them because they would +describe me as "of St. John's College, Cambridge," an establishment for +which I have the most profound veneration, but with which I have not had +the honour to be connected for some quarter of a century. At last they +said they would change this description if I would only tell them what I +was, for, though they had done their best to find out, they had +themselves failed. I replied with modest pride that I was a Bachelor of +Arts. I keep all my other letters inside my name, not outside. They +mused and said it was unfortunate that I was not a Master of Arts. Could +I not get myself made a Master? I said I understood that a Mastership +was an article the University could not do under about five pounds, and +that I was not disposed to go sixpence higher than three ten. They again +said it was a pity, for it would be very inconvenient to them if I did +not keep to something between a bishop and a poet. I might be anything I +liked in reason, provided I showed proper respect for the alphabet; but +they had got me between "Samuel Butler, bishop," and "Samuel Butler, +poet." It would be very troublesome to shift me, and bachelor came +before bishop. This was reasonable, so I replied that, under those +circumstances, if they pleased, I thought I would like to be a +philosophical writer. They embraced the solution, and, no matter what I +write now, I must remain a philosophical writer as long as I live, for +the alphabet will hardly be altered in my time, and I must be something +between "Bis" and "Poe." If I could get a volume of my excellent +namesake's "Hudibras" out of the list of my works, I should be robbed of +my last shred of literary grievance, so I say nothing about this, but +keep it secret, lest some worse thing should happen to me. Besides, I +have a great respect for my namesake, and always say that if "Erewhon" +had been a racehorse it would have been got by "Hudibras" out of +"Analogy." Some one said this to me many years ago, and I felt so much +flattered that I have been repeating the remark as my own ever since. + +But how small are these grievances as compared with those endured without +a murmur by hundreds of writers far more deserving than myself. When I +see the scores and hundreds of workers in the reading-room who have done +so much more than I have, but whose work is absolutely fruitless to +themselves, and when I think of the prompt recognition obtained by my own +work, I ask myself what I have done to be thus rewarded. On the other +hand, the feeling that I have succeeded far beyond my deserts hitherto, +makes it all the harder for me to acquiesce without complaint in the +extinction of a career which I honestly believe to be a promising one; +and once more I repeat that, unless the Museum authorities give me back +my Frost, or put a locked clasp on Arvine, my career must be +extinguished. Give me back Frost, and, if life and health are spared, I +will write another dozen of volumes yet before I hang up my fiddle--if so +serious a confusion of metaphors may be pardoned. I know from long +experience how kind and considerate both the late and present +superintendents of the reading-room were and are, but I doubt how far +either of them would be disposed to help me on this occasion; continue, +however, to rob me of my Frost, and, whatever else I may do, I will write +no more books. + +_Note by Dr. Garnett_, _British Museum_.--The frost has broken up. Mr. +Butler is restored to literature. Mr. Mudie may make himself easy. +England will still boast a humourist; and the late Mr. Darwin (to whose +posthumous machinations the removal of the book was owing) will continue +to be confounded.--R. GANNETT. + + + + +RAMBLINGS IN CHEAPSIDE {2} + + +Walking the other day in Cheapside I saw some turtles in Mr. Sweeting's +window, and was tempted to stay and look at them. As I did so I was +struck not more by the defences with which they were hedged about, than +by the fatuousness of trying to hedge that in at all which, if hedged +thoroughly, must die of its own defencefulness. The holes for the head +and feet through which the turtle leaks out, as it were, on to the +exterior world, and through which it again absorbs the exterior world +into itself--"catching on" through them to things that are thus both +turtle and not turtle at one and the same time--these holes stultify the +armour, and show it to have been designed by a creature with more of +faithfulness to a fixed idea, and hence one-sidedness, than of that quick +sense of relative importances and their changes, which is the main factor +of good living. + +The turtle obviously had no sense of proportion; it differed so widely +from myself that I could not comprehend it; and as this word occurred to +me, it occurred also that until my body comprehended its body in a +physical material sense, neither would my mind be able to comprehend its +mind with any thoroughness. For unity of mind can only be consummated by +unity of body; everything, therefore, must be in some respects both knave +and fool to all that which has not eaten it, or by which it has not been +eaten. As long as the turtle was in the window and I in the street +outside, there was no chance of our comprehending one another. + +Nevertheless I knew that I could get it to agree with me if I could so +effectually button-hole and fasten on to it as to eat it. Most men have +an easy method with turtle soup, and I had no misgiving but that if I +could bring my first premise to bear I should prove the better reasoner. +My difficulty lay in this initial process, for I had not with me the +argument that would alone compel Mr. Sweeting think that I ought to be +allowed to convert the turtles--I mean I had no money in my pocket. No +missionary enterprise can be carried on without any money at all, but +even so small a sum as half-a-crown would, I suppose, have enabled me to +bring the turtle partly round, and with many half-crowns I could in time +no doubt convert the lot, for the turtle needs must go where the money +drives. If, as is alleged, the world stands on a turtle, the turtle +stands on money. No money no turtle. As for money, that stands on +opinion, credit, trust, faith--things that, though highly material in +connection with money, are still of immaterial essence. + +The steps are perfectly plain. The men who caught the turtles brought a +fairly strong and definite opinion to bear upon them, that passed into +action, and later on into money. They thought the turtles would come +that way, and verified their opinion; on this, will and action were +generated, with the result that the men turned the turtles on their backs +and carried them off. Mr. Sweeting touched these men with money, which +is the outward and visible sign of verified opinion. The customer +touches Mr. Sweeting with money, Mr. Sweeting touches the waiter and the +cook with money. They touch the turtle with skill and verified opinion. +Finally, the customer applies the clinching argument that brushes all +sophisms aside, and bids the turtle stand protoplasm to protoplasm with +himself, to know even as it is known. + +But it must be all touch, touch, touch; skill, opinion, power, and money, +passing in and out with one another in any order we like, but still link +to link and touch to touch. If there is failure anywhere in respect of +opinion, skill, power, or money, either as regards quantity or quality, +the chain can be no stronger than its weakest link, and the turtle and +the clinching argument will fly asunder. Of course, if there is an +initial failure in connection, through defect in any member of the chain, +or of connection between the links, it will no more be attempted to bring +the turtle and the clinching argument together, than it will to chain up +a dog with two pieces of broken chain that are disconnected. The contact +throughout must be conceived as absolute; and yet perfect contact is +inconceivable by us, for on becoming perfect it ceases to be contact, and +becomes essential, once for all inseverable, identity. The most absolute +contact short of this is still contact by courtesy only. So here, as +everywhere else, Eurydice glides off as we are about to grasp her. We +can see nothing face to face; our utmost seeing is but a fumbling of +blind finger-ends in an overcrowded pocket. + +Presently my own blind finger-ends fished up the conclusion, that as I +had neither time nor money to spend on perfecting the chain that would +put me in full spiritual contact with Mr. Sweeting's turtles, I had +better leave them to complete their education at some one else's expense +rather than mine, so I walked on towards the Bank. As I did so it struck +me how continually we are met by this melting of one existence into +another. The limits of the body seem well defined enough as definitions +go, but definitions seldom go far. What, for example, can seem more +distinct from a man than his banker or his solicitor? Yet these are +commonly so much parts of him that he can no more cut them off and grow +new ones, than he can grow new legs or arms; neither must he wound his +solicitor; a wound in the solicitor is a very serious thing. As for his +bank--failure of his bank's action may be as fatal to a man as failure of +his heart. I have said nothing about the medical or spiritual adviser, +but most men grow into the society that surrounds them by the help of +these four main tap-roots, and not only into the world of humanity, but +into the universe at large. We can, indeed, grow butchers, bakers, and +greengrocers, almost _ad libitum_, but these are low developments, and +correspond to skin, hair, or finger-nails. Those of us again who are not +highly enough organised to have grown a solicitor or banker can generally +repair the loss of whatever social organisation they may possess as +freely as lizards are said to grow new tails; but this with the higher +social, as well as organic, developments is only possible to a very +limited extent. + +The doctrine of metempsychosis, or transmigration of souls--a doctrine to +which the foregoing considerations are for the most part easy +corollaries--crops up no matter in what direction we allow our thoughts +to wander. And we meet instances of transmigration of body as well as of +soul. I do not mean that both body and soul have transmigrated together, +far from it; but that, as we can often recognise a transmigrated mind in +an alien body, so we not less often see a body that is clearly only a +transmigration, linked on to some one else's new and alien soul. We meet +people every day whose bodies are evidently those of men and women long +dead, but whose appearance we know through their portraits. We see them +going about in omnibuses, railway carriages, and in all public places. +The cards have been shuffled, and they have drawn fresh lots in life and +nationalities, but any one fairly well up in mediaeval and last century +portraiture knows them at a glance. + +Going down once towards Italy I saw a young man in the train whom I +recognised, only he seemed to have got younger. He was with a friend, +and his face was in continual play, but for some little time I puzzled in +vain to recollect where it was that I had seen him before. All of a +sudden I remembered he was King Francis I. of France. I had hitherto +thought the face of this king impossible, but when I saw it in play I +understood it. His great contemporary Henry VIII. keeps a restaurant in +Oxford Street. Falstaff drove one of the St. Gothard diligences for many +years, and only retired when the railway was opened. Titian once made me +a pair of boots at Vicenza, and not very good ones. At Modena I had my +hair cut by a young man whom I perceived to be Raffaelle. The model who +sat to him for his celebrated Madonnas is first lady in a confectionery +establishment at Montreal. She has a little motherly pimple on the left +side of her nose that is misleading at first, but on examination she is +readily recognised; probably Raffaelle's model had the pimple too, but +Raffaelle left it out--as he would. + +Handel, of course, is Madame Patey. Give Madame Patey Handel's wig and +clothes, and there would be no telling her from Handel. It is not only +that the features and the shape of the head are the same, but there is a +certain imperiousness of expression and attitude about Handel which he +hardly attempts to conceal in Madame Patey. It is a curious coincidence +that he should continue to be such an incomparable renderer of his own +music. Pope Julius II. was the late Mr. Darwin. Rameses II. is a blind +woman now, and stands in Holborn, holding a tin mug. I never could +understand why I always found myself humming "They oppressed them with +burthens" when I passed her, till one day I was looking in Mr. Spooner's +window in the Strand, and saw a photograph of Rameses II. Mary Queen of +Scots wears surgical boots and is subject to fits, near the Horse Shoe in +Tottenham Court Road. + +Michael Angelo is a commissionaire; I saw him on board the _Glen Rosa_, +which used to run every day from London to Clacton-on-Sea and back. It +gave me quite a turn when I saw him coming down the stairs from the upper +deck, with his bronzed face, flattened nose, and with the familiar bar +upon his forehead. I never liked Michael Angelo, and never shall, but I +am afraid of him, and was near trying to hide when I saw him coming +towards me. He had not got his commissionaire's uniform on, and I did +not know he was one till I met him a month or so later in the Strand. +When we got to Blackwall the music struck up and people began to dance. I +never saw a man dance so much in my life. He did not miss a dance all +the way to Clacton, nor all the way back again, and when not dancing he +was flirting and cracking jokes. I could hardly believe my eyes when I +reflected that this man had painted the famous "Last Judgment," and had +made all those statues. + +Dante is, or was a year or two ago, a waiter at Brissago on the Lago +Maggiore, only he is better-tempered-looking, and has a more intellectual +expression. He gave me his ideas upon beauty: "Tutto ch' e vero e +bello," he exclaimed, with all his old self-confidence. I am not afraid +of Dante. I know people by their friends, and he went about with Virgil, +so I said with some severity, "No, Dante, il naso della Signora Robinson +e vero, ma non e bello"; and he admitted I was right. Beatrice's name is +Towler; she is waitress at a small inn in German Switzerland. I used to +sit at my window and hear people call "Towler, Towler, Towler," fifty +times in a forenoon. She was the exact antithesis to Abra; Abra, if I +remember, used to come before they called her name, but no matter how +often they called Towler, every one came before she did. I suppose they +spelt her name Taula, but to me it sounded Towler; I never, however, met +any one else with this name. She was a sweet, artless little hussy, who +made me play the piano to her, and she said it was lovely. Of course I +only played my own compositions; so I believed her, and it all went off +very nicely. I thought it might save trouble if I did not tell her who +she really was, so I said nothing about it. + +I met Socrates once. He was my muleteer on an excursion which I will not +name, for fear it should identify the man. The moment I saw my guide I +knew he was somebody, but for the life of me I could not remember who. +All of a sudden it flashed across me that he was Socrates. He talked +enough for six, but it was all in _dialetto_, so I could not understand +him, nor, when I had discovered who he was, did I much try to do so. He +was a good creature, a trifle given to stealing fruit and vegetables, but +an amiable man enough. He had had a long day with his mule and me, and +he only asked me five francs. I gave him ten, for I pitied his poor old +patched boots, and there was a meekness about him that touched me. "And +now, Socrates," said I at parting, "we go on our several ways, you to +steal tomatoes, I to filch ideas from other people; for the rest--which +of these two roads will be the better going, our father which is in +heaven knows, but we know not." + +I have never seen Mendelssohn, but there is a fresco of him on the +terrace, or open-air dining-room, of an inn at Chiavenna. He is not +called Mendelssohn, but I knew him by his legs. He is in the costume of +a dandy of some five-and-forty years ago, is smoking a cigar, and appears +to be making an offer of marriage to his cook. Beethoven both my friend +Mr. H. Festing Jones and I have had the good fortune to meet; he is an +engineer now, and does not know one note from another; he has quite lost +his deafness, is married, and is, of course, a little squat man with the +same refractory hair that he always had. It was very interesting to +watch him, and Jones remarked that before the end of dinner he had become +positively posthumous. One morning I was told the Beethovens were going +away, and before long I met their two heavy boxes being carried down the +stairs. The boxes were so squab and like their owners, that I half +thought for a moment that they were inside, and should hardly have been +surprised to see them spring up like a couple of Jacks-in-the-box. "Sono +indentro?" said I, with a frown of wonder, pointing to the boxes. The +porters knew what I meant, and laughed. But there is no end to the list +of people whom I have been able to recognise, and before I had got +through it myself, I found I had walked some distance, and had +involuntarily paused in front of a second-hand bookstall. + +I do not like books. I believe I have the smallest library of any +literary man in London, and I have no wish to increase it. I keep my +books at the British Museum and at Mudie's, and it makes me very angry if +any one gives me one for my private library. I once heard two ladies +disputing in a railway carriage as to whether one of them had or had not +been wasting money. "I spent it in books," said the accused, "and it's +not wasting money to buy books." "Indeed, my dear, I think it is," was +the rejoinder, and in practice I agree with it. Webster's Dictionary, +Whitaker's Almanack, and Bradshaw's Railway Guide should be sufficient +for any ordinary library; it will be time enough to go beyond these when +the mass of useful and entertaining matter which they provide has been +mastered. Nevertheless, I admit that sometimes, if not particularly +busy, I stop at a second-hand bookstall and turn over a book or two from +mere force of habit. + +I know not what made me pick up a copy of AEschylus--of course in an +English version--or rather I know not what made AEschylus take up with +me, for he took me rather than I him; but no sooner had he got me than he +began puzzling me, as he has done any time this forty years, to know +wherein his transcendent merit can be supposed to lie. To me he is, like +the greater number of classics in all ages and countries, a literary +Struldbrug, rather than a true ambrosia-fed immortal. There are true +immortals, but they are few and far between; most classics are as great +impostors dead as they were when living, and while posing as gods are, +five-sevenths of them, only Struldbrugs. It comforts me to remember that +Aristophanes liked AEschylus no better than I do. True, he praises him +by comparison with Sophocles and Euripides, but he only does so that he +may run down these last more effectively. Aristophanes is a safe man to +follow, nor do I see why it should not be as correct to laugh with him as +to pull a long face with the Greek Professors; but this is neither here +nor there, for no one really cares about AEschylus; the more interesting +question is how he contrived to make so many people for so many years +pretend to care about him. + +Perhaps he married somebody's daughter. If a man would get hold of the +public ear, he must pay, marry, or fight. I have never understood that +AEschylus was a man of means, and the fighters do not write poetry, so I +suppose he must have married a theatrical manager's daughter, and got his +plays brought out that way. The ear of any age or country is like its +land, air, and water; it seems limitless but is really limited, and is +already in the keeping of those who naturally enough will have no +squatting on such valuable property. It is written and talked up to as +closely as the means of subsistence are bred up to by a teeming +population. There is not a square inch of it but is in private hands, +and he who would freehold any part of it must do so by purchase, +marriage, or fighting, in the usual way--and fighting gives the longest, +safest tenure. The public itself has hardly more voice in the question +who shall have its ear, than the land has in choosing its owners. It is +farmed as those who own it think most profitable to themselves, and small +blame to them; nevertheless, it has a residuum of mulishness which the +land has not, and does sometimes dispossess its tenants. It is in this +residuum that those who fight place their hope and trust. + +Or perhaps AEschylus squared the leading critics of his time. When one +comes to think of it, he must have done so, for how is it conceivable +that such plays should have had such runs if he had not? I met a lady +one year in Switzerland who had some parrots that always travelled with +her and were the idols of her life. These parrots would not let any one +read aloud in their presence, unless they heard their own names +introduced from time to time. If these were freely interpolated into the +text they would remain as still as stones, for they thought the reading +was about themselves. If it was not about them it could not be allowed. +The leaders of literature are like these parrots; they do not look at +what a man writes, nor if they did would they understand it much better +than the parrots do; but they like the sound of their own names, and if +these are freely interpolated in a tone they take as friendly, they may +even give ear to an outsider. Otherwise they will scream him off if they +can. + +I should not advise any one with ordinary independence of mind to attempt +the public ear unless he is confident that he can out-lung and out-last +his own generation; for if he has any force, people will and ought to be +on their guard against him, inasmuch as there is no knowing where he may +not take them. Besides, they have staked their money on the wrong men so +often without suspecting it, that when there comes one whom they do +suspect it would be madness not to bet against him. True, he may die +before he has out-screamed his opponents, but that has nothing to do with +it. If his scream was well pitched it will sound clearer when he is +dead. We do not know what death is. If we know so little about life +which we have experienced, how shall we know about death which we have +not--and in the nature of things never can? Every one, as I said years +ago in "Alps and Sanctuaries," is an immortal to himself, for he cannot +know that he is dead until he is dead, and when dead how can he know +anything about anything? All we know is, that even the humblest dead may +live long after all trace of the body has disappeared; we see them doing +it in the bodies and memories of those that come after them; and not a +few live so much longer and more effectually than is desirable, that it +has been necessary to get rid of them by Act of Parliament. It is love +that alone gives life, and the truest life is that which we live not in +ourselves but vicariously in others, and with which we have no concern. +Our concern is so to order ourselves that we may be of the number of them +that enter into life--although we know it not. + +AEschylus did so order himself; but his life is not of that inspiriting +kind that can be won through fighting the good fight only--or being +believed to have fought it. His voice is the echo of a drone, +drone-begotten and drone-sustained. It is not a tone that a man must +utter or die--nay, even though he die; and likely enough half the +allusions and hard passages in AEschylus of which we can make neither +head nor tail are in reality only puffs of some of the literary leaders +of his time. + +The lady above referred to told me more about her parrots. She was like +a Nasmyth's hammer going slow--very gentle, but irresistible. She always +read the newspaper to them. What was the use of having a newspaper if +one did not read it to one's parrots? + +"And have you divined," I asked, "to which side they incline in +politics?" + +"They do not like Mr. Gladstone," was the somewhat freezing answer; "this +is the only point on which we disagree, for I adore him. Don't ask more +about this, it is a great grief to me. I tell them everything," she +continued, "and hide no secret from them." + +"But can any parrot be trusted to keep a secret?" + +"Mine can." + +"And on Sundays do you give them the same course of reading as on a week- +day, or do you make a difference?" + +"On Sundays I always read them a genealogical chapter from the Old or New +Testament, for I can thus introduce their names without profanity. I +always keep tea by me in case they should ask for it in the night, and I +have an Etna to warm it for them; they take milk and sugar. The old +white-headed clergyman came to see them last night; it was very painful, +for Jocko reminded him so strongly of his late . . . " + +I thought she was going to say "wife," but it proved to have been only of +a parrot that he had once known and loved. + +One evening she was in difficulties about the quarantine, which was +enforced that year on the Italian frontier. The local doctor had gone +down that morning to see the Italian doctor and arrange some details. +"Then, perhaps, my dear," she said to her husband, "he is the +quarantine." "No, my love," replied her husband. "The quarantine is not +a person, it is a place where they put people"; but she would not be +comforted, and suspected the quarantine as an enemy that might at any +moment pounce out upon her and her parrots. So a lady told me once that +she had been in like trouble about the anthem. She read in her prayer- +book that in choirs and places where they sing "here followeth the +anthem," yet the person with this most mysteriously sounding name never +did follow. They had a choir, and no one could say the church was not a +place where they sang, for they did sing--both chants and hymns. Why, +then, this persistent slackness on the part of the anthem, who at this +juncture should follow her papa, the rector, into the reading-desk? No +doubt he would come some day, and then what would he be like? Fair or +dark? Tall or short? Would he be bald and wear spectacles like papa, or +would he be young and good-looking? Anyhow, there was something wrong, +for it was announced that he would follow, and he never did follow; +therefore there was no knowing what he might not do next. + +I heard of the parrots a year or two later as giving lessons in Italian +to an English maid. I do not know what their terms were. Alas! since +then both they and their mistress have joined the majority. When the +poor lady felt her end was near she desired (and the responsibility for +this must rest with her, not me) that the birds might be destroyed, as +fearing that they might come to be neglected, and knowing that they could +never be loved again as she had loved them. On being told that all was +over, she said, "Thank you," and immediately expired. + +Reflecting in such random fashion, and strolling with no greater method, +I worked my way back through Cheapside and found myself once more in +front of Sweeting's window. Again the turtles attracted me. They were +alive, and so far at any rate they agreed with me. Nay, they had eyes, +mouths, legs, if not arms, and feet, so there was much in which we were +both of a mind, but surely they must be mistaken in arming themselves so +very heavily. Any creature on getting what the turtle aimed at would +overreach itself and be landed not in safety but annihilation. It should +have no communion with the outside world at all, for death could creep in +wherever the creature could creep out; and it must creep out somewhere if +it was to hook on to outside things. What death can be more absolute +than such absolute isolation? Perfect death, indeed, if it were +attainable (which it is not), is as near perfect security as we can +reach, but it is not the kind of security aimed at by any animal that is +at the pains of defending itself. For such want to have things both +ways, desiring the livingness of life without its perils, and the safety +of death without its deadness, and some of us do actually get this for a +considerable time, but we do not get it by plating ourselves with armour +as the turtle does. We tried this in the Middle Ages, and no longer mock +ourselves with the weight of armour that our forefathers carried in +battle. Indeed the more deadly the weapons of attack become the more we +go into the fight slug-wise. + +Slugs have ridden their contempt for defensive armour as much to death as +the turtles their pursuit of it. They have hardly more than skin enough +to hold themselves together; they court death every time they cross the +road. Yet death comes not to them more than to the turtle, whose +defences are so great that there is little left inside to be defended. +Moreover, the slugs fare best in the long run, for turtles are dying out, +while slugs are not, and there must be millions of slugs all the world +over for every single turtle. Of the two vanities, therefore, that of +the slug seems most substantial. + +In either case the creature thinks itself safe, but is sure to be found +out sooner or later; nor is it easy to explain this mockery save by +reflecting that everything must have its meat in due season, and that +meat can only be found for such a multitude of mouths by giving +everything as meat in due season to something else. This is like the +Kilkenny cats, or robbing Peter to pay Paul; but it is the way of the +world, and as every animal must contribute in kind to the picnic of the +universe, one does not see what better arrangement could be made than the +providing each race with a hereditary fallacy, which shall in the end get +it into a scrape, but which shall generally stand the wear and tear of +life for some time. "_Do ut des_" is the writing on all flesh to him +that eats it; and no creature is dearer to itself than it is to some +other that would devour it. + +Nor is there any statement or proposition more invulnerable than living +forms are. Propositions prey upon and are grounded upon one another just +like living forms. They support one another as plants and animals do; +they are based ultimately on credit, or faith, rather than the cash of +irrefragable conviction. The whole universe is carried on on the credit +system, and if the mutual confidence on which it is based were to +collapse, it must itself collapse immediately. Just or unjust, it lives +by faith; it is based on vague and impalpable opinion that by some +inscrutable process passes into will and action, and is made manifest in +matter and in flesh: it is meteoric--suspended in midair; it is the +baseless fabric of a vision so vast, so vivid, and so gorgeous that no +base can seem more broad than such stupendous baselessness, and yet any +man can bring it about his ears by being over-curious; when faith fails a +system based on faith fails also. + +Whether the universe is really a paying concern, or whether it is an +inflated bubble that must burst sooner or later, this is another matter. +If people were to demand cash payment in irrefragable certainty for +everything that they have taken hitherto as paper money on the credit of +the bank of public opinion, is there money enough behind it all to stand +so great a drain even on so great a reserve? Probably there is not, but +happily there can be no such panic, for even though the cultured classes +may do so, the uncultured are too dull to have brains enough to commit +such stupendous folly. It takes a long course of academic training to +educate a man up to the standard which he must reach before he can +entertain such questions seriously, and by a merciful dispensation of +Providence, university training is almost as costly as it is +unprofitable. The majority will thus be always unable to afford it, and +will base their opinions on mother wit and current opinion rather than on +demonstration. + +So I turned my steps homewards; I saw a good many more things on my way +home, but I was told that I was not to see more this time than I could +get into twelve pages of the _Universal Review_; I must therefore reserve +any remark which I think might perhaps entertain the reader for another +occasion. + + + + +THE AUNT, THE NIECES, AND THE DOG {3} + + +When a thing is old, broken, and useless we throw it on the dust-heap, +but when it is sufficiently old, sufficiently broken, and sufficiently +useless we give money for it, put it into a museum, and read papers over +it which people come long distances to hear. By-and-by, when the +whirligig of time has brought on another revenge, the museum itself +becomes a dust-heap, and remains so till after long ages it is +re-discovered, and valued as belonging to a neo-rubbish age--containing, +perhaps, traces of a still older paleo-rubbish civilisation. So when +people are old, indigent, and in all respects incapable, we hold them in +greater and greater contempt as their poverty and impotence increase, +till they reach the pitch when they are actually at the point to die, +whereon they become sublime. Then we place every resource our hospitals +can command at their disposal, and show no stint in our consideration for +them. + +It is the same with all our interests. We care most about extremes of +importance and of unimportance; but extremes of importance are tainted +with fear, and a very imperfect fear casteth out love. Extremes of +unimportance cannot hurt us, therefore we are well disposed towards them; +the means may come to do so, therefore we do not love them. Hence we +pick a fly out of a milk-jug and watch with pleasure over its recovery, +for we are confident that under no conceivable circumstances will it want +to borrow money from us; but we feel less sure about a mouse, so we show +it no quarter. The compilers of our almanacs well know this tendency of +our natures, so they tell us, not when Noah went into the ark, nor when +the temple of Jerusalem was dedicated, but that Lindley Murray, +grammarian, died January 16, 1826. This is not because they could not +find so many as three hundred and sixty-five events of considerable +interest since the creation of the world, but because they well know we +would rather hear of something less interesting. We care most about what +concerns us either very closely, or so little that practically we have +nothing whatever to do with it. + +I once asked a young Italian, who professed to have a considerable +knowledge of English literature, which of all our poems pleased him best. +He replied without a moment's hesitation:-- + + "Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, + The cow jumped over the moon; + The little dog laughed to see such sport, + And the dish ran away with the spoon." + +He said this was better than anything in Italian. They had Dante and +Tasso, and ever so many more great poets, but they had nothing comparable +to "Hey diddle diddle," nor had he been able to conceive how any one +could have written it. Did I know the author's name, and had we given +him a statue? On this I told him of the young lady of Harrow who would +go to church in a barrow, and plied him with whatever rhyming nonsense I +could call to mind, but it was no use; all of these things had an element +of reality that robbed them of half their charm, whereas "Hey diddle +diddle" had nothing in it that could conceivably concern him. + +So again it is with the things that gall us most. What is it that rises +up against us at odd times and smites us in the face again and again for +years after it has happened? That we spent all the best years of our +life in learning what we have found to be a swindle, and to have been +known to be a swindle by those who took money for misleading us? That +those on whom we most leaned most betrayed us? That we have only come to +feel our strength when there is little strength left of any kind to feel? +These things will hardly much disturb a man of ordinary good temper. But +that he should have said this or that little unkind and wanton saying; +that he should have gone away from this or that hotel and given a +shilling too little to the waiter; that his clothes were shabby at such +or such a garden-party--these things gall us as a corn will sometimes do, +though the loss of a limb way not be seriously felt. + +I have been reminded lately of these considerations with more than common +force by reading the very voluminous correspondence left by my +grandfather, Dr. Butler, of Shrewsbury, whose memoirs I am engaged in +writing. I have found a large number of interesting letters on subjects +of serious import, but must confess that it is to the hardly less +numerous lighter letters that I have been most attracted, nor do I feel +sure that my eminent namesake did not share my predilection. Among other +letters in my possession I have one bundle that has been kept apart, and +has evidently no connection with Dr. Butler's own life. I cannot use +these letters, therefore, for my book, but over and above the charm of +their inspired spelling, I find them of such an extremely trivial nature +that I incline to hope the reader may derive as much amusement from them +as I have done myself, and venture to give them the publicity here which +I must refuse them in my book. The dates and signatures have, with the +exception of Mrs. Newton's, been carefully erased, but I have collected +that they were written by the two servants of a single lady who resided +at no great distance from London, to two nieces of the said lady who +lived in London itself. The aunt never writes, but always gets one of +the servants to do so for her. She appears either as "your aunt" or as +"She"; her name is not given, but she is evidently looked upon with a +good deal of awe by all who had to do with her. + +The letters almost all of them relate to visits either of the aunt to +London, or of the nieces to the aunt's home, which, from occasional +allusions to hopping, I gather to have been in Kent, Sussex, or Surrey. I +have arranged them to the best of my power, and take the following to be +the earliest. It has no signature, but is not in the handwriting of the +servant who styles herself Elizabeth, or Mrs. Newton. It runs:-- + + "MADAM,--Your Aunt Wishes me to inform you she will be glad if you + will let hir know if you think of coming To hir House thiss month or + Next as she cannot have you in September on a kount of the Hoping If + you ar coming she thinkes she had batter Go to London on the Day you + com to hir House the says you shall have everry Thing raddy for you at + hir House and Mrs. Newton to meet you and stay with you till She + returnes a gann. + + "if you arnot Coming thiss Summer She will be in London before thiss + Month is out and will Sleep on the Sofy As She willnot be in London + more thann two nits. and She Says she willnot truble you on anny a + kount as She Will returne the Same Day before She will plage you anny + more. but She thanks you for asking hir to London. but She says She + cannot leve the house at prassant She sayhir Survants ar to do for you + as she cannot lodge yours nor she willnot have thim in at the house + anny more to brake and destroy hir thinks and beslive hir and make up + Lies by hir and Skandel as your too did She says she mens to pay fore + 2 Nits and one day, She says the Pepelwill let hir have it if you ask + thim to let hir: you Will be so good as to let hir know sun: wish She + is to do, as She says She dos not care anny thing a bout it. which way + tiss she is batter than She was and desirs hir Love to bouth bouth. + + "Your aunt wises to know how the silk Clocks ar madup [how the silk + cloaks are made up] with a Cape or a wood as she is a goin to have one + madeup to rideout in in hir littel shas [chaise]. + + "Charles is a butty and so good. + + "Mr & Mrs Newton ar quite wall & desires to be remembered to you." + +I can throw no light on the meaning of the verb to "beslive." Each +letter in the MS. is so admirably formed that there can be no question +about the word being as I have given it. Nor have I been able to +discover what is referred to by the words "Charles is a butty and so +good." We shall presently meet with a Charles who "flies in the Fier," +but that Charles appears to have been in London, whereas this one is +evidently in Kent, or wherever the aunt lived. + +The next letter is from Mrs. Newton + + "DER MISS ---, I Receve your Letter your Aunt is vary Ill and + Lowspireted I Donte think your Aunt wood Git up all Day if My Sister + Wasnot to Persage her We all Think hir lif is two monopolous. you Wish + to know Who Was Liveing With your Aunt. that is My Sister and + Willian--and Cariline--as Cock and Old Poll Pepper is Come to Stay + With her a Littel Wile and I hoped [hopped] for Your Aunt, and Harry + has Worked for your Aunt all the Summer. Your Aunt and Harry Whent to + the Wells Races and Spent a very Pleasant Day your Aunt has Lost Old + Fanney Sow She Died about a Week a Go Harry he Wanted your Aunt to + have her killed and send her to London and Shee Wold Fech her 11 + pounds the Farmers have Lost a Greet Deal of Cattel such as Hogs and + Cows What theay call the Plage I Whent to your Aunt as you Wish Mee to + Do But She Told Mee She Did not wont aney Boddy She Told Mee She + Should Like to Come up to see you But She Cant Come know for she is + Boddyley ill and Harry Donte Work there know But he Go up there Once + in Two or Three Day Harry Offered is self to Go up to Live With your + Aunt But She Made him know Ancer. I hay Been up to your Aunt at Work + for 5 Weeks Hopping and Ragluting Your Aunt Donte Eat nor Drink But + vary Littel indeed. + + "I am Happy to Say We are Both Quite Well and I am Glad no hear you + are Both Quite Well + + "MRS NEWTON." + +This seems to have made the nieces propose to pay a visit to their aunt, +perhaps to try and relieve the monopoly of her existence and cheer her up +a little. In their letter, doubtless, the dog motive is introduced that +is so finely developed presently by Mrs. Newton. I should like to have +been able to give the theme as enounced by the nieces themselves, but +their letters are not before me. Mrs. Newton writes:-- + + "MY DEAR GIRLS,--Your Aunt receiv your Letter your Aunt will Be vary + glad to see you as it quite a greeable if it tis to you and Shee is + Quite Willing to Eair the beds and the Rooms if you Like to Trust to + hir and the Servantes; if not I may Go up there as you Wish. My + Sister Sleeps in the Best Room as she allways Did and the Coock in the + garret and you Can have the Rooms the same as you allways Did as your + Aunt Donte set in the Parlour She Continlery Sets in the Ciching. your + Aunt says she Cannot Part from the dog know hows and She Says he will + not hurt you for he is Like a Child and I can safeley say My Self he + wonte hurt you as She Cannot Sleep in the Room With out him as he + allWay Sleep in the Same Room as She Dose. your Aunt is agreeable to + Git in What Coles and Wood you Wish for I am know happy to say your + Aunt is in as Good health as ever She Was and She is happy to hear you + are Both Well your Aunt Wishes for Ancer By Return of Post." + +The nieces replied that their aunt must choose between the dog and them, +and Mrs. Newton sends a second letter which brings her development to a +climax. It runs:-- + + "DEAR MISS ---, I have Receve your Letter and i Whent up to your Aunt + as you Wish me and i Try to Perveal With her about the Dog But she + Wold not Put the Dog away nor it alow him to Be Tied up But She Still + Wishes you to Come as Shee says the Dog Shall not interrup you for She + Donte alow the Dog nor it the Cats to Go in the Parlour never sence + She has had it Donup ferfere of Spoiling the Paint your Aunt think it + vary Strange you Should Be so vary Much afraid of a Dog and She says + you Cant Go out in London But What you are up a gance one and She says + She Wonte Trust the Dog in know one hands But her Owne for She is + afraid theay Will not fill is Belley as he Lives upon Rost Beeff and + Rost and Boil Moutten Wich he Eats More then the Servantes in the + House there is not aney One Wold Beable to Give Sattefacktion upon + that account Harry offerd to Take the Dog But She Wood not Trust him + in our hands so I Cold not Do aney thing With her your Aunt youse to + Tell Me When we was at your House in London She Did not know how to + make you amens and i Told her know it was the Time to Do it But i + Considder She sets the Dog Before you your Aunt keep know Beer know + Sprits know Wines in the House of aney Sort Oneley a Little Barl of + Wine I made her in the Summer the Workmen and servantes are a Blige to + Drink wauter Morning Noon and Night your Aunt the Same She Donte Low + her Self aney Tee nor Coffee But is Loocking Wonderful Well + + "I Still Remane your Humble Servant Mrs Newton + + "I am vary sorry to think the Dog Perventes your Comeing + + "I am Glad to hear you are Both Well and we are the same." + +The nieces remained firm, and from the following letter it is plain the +aunt gave way. The dog motive is repeated _pianissimo_, and is not +returned to--not at least by Mrs. Newton. + + "DEAR MISS ---, I Receve your Letter on Thursday i Whent to your Aunt + and i see her and She is a Greable to everry thing i asked her and + seme so vary Much Please to see you Both Next Tuseday and she has sent + for the Faggots to Day and she Will Send for the Coles to Morrow and i + will Go up there to Morrow Morning and Make the Fiers and Tend to the + Beds and sleep in it Till you Come Down your Aunt sends her Love to + you Both and she is Quite well your Aunt Wishes you wold Write againe + Before you Come as she ma Expeckye and the Dog is not to Gointo the + Parlor a Tall + + "your Aunt kind Love to you Both & hopes you Wonte Fail in Coming + according to Prommis + + MRS NEWTON." + +From a later letter it appears that the nieces did not pay their visit +after all, and what is worse a letter had miscarried, and the aunt sat up +expecting them from seven till twelve at night, and Harry had paid for +"Faggots and Coles quarter of Hund. Faggots Half tun of Coles 1_l._ +1_s._ 3_d._" Shortly afterwards, however, "She" again talks of coming up +to London herself and writes through her servant-- + + "My Dear girls i Receve your kind letter & I am happy to hear you ar + both Well and I Was in hopes of seeing of you Both Down at My House + this spring to stay a Wile I am Quite well my self in Helth But vary + Low Spireted I am vary sorry to hear the Misforting of Poor charles & + how he cum to flie in the Fier I cannot think. I should like to know + if he is dead or a Live, and I shall come to London in August & stay + three or four daies if it is agreable to you. Mrs. Newton has lost + her mother in Law 4 day March & I hope you send me word Wather charles + is Dead or a Live as soon as possible, and will you send me word what + Little Betty is for I cannot make her out." + +The next letter is a new handwriting, and tells the nieces of their +aunt's death in the the following terms:-- + + "DEAR MISS ---, It is my most painful duty to inform you that your + dear aunt expired this morning comparatively easy as Hannah informs me + and in so doing restored her soul to the custody of him whom she + considered to be alone worthy of its care. + + "The doctor had visited her about five minutes previously and had + applied a blister. + + "You and your sister will I am sure excuse further details at present + and believe me with kindest remembrances to remain + + "Yours truly, &c." + +After a few days a lawyer's letter informs the nieces that their aunt had +left them the bulk of her not very considerable property, but had charged +them with an annuity of 1 pound a week to be paid to Harry and Mrs. +Newton so long as the dog lived. + +The only other letters by Mrs. Newton are written on paper of a different +and more modern size; they leave an impression of having been written a +good many years later. I take them as they come. The first is very +short:-- + + "DEAR MISS ---, i write to say i cannot possiblely come on Wednesday + as we have killed a pig. your's truely, + + "ELIZABETH NEWTON." + +The second runs:-- + + "DEAR MISS ---, i hope you are both quite well in health & your Leg + much better i am happy to say i am getting quite well again i hope + Amandy has reached you safe by this time i sent a small parcle by + Amandy, there was half a dozen Pats of butter & the Cakes was very + homely and not so light as i could wish i hope by this time Sarah Ann + has promised she will stay untill next monday as i think a few daies + longer will not make much diferance and as her young man has been very + considerate to wait so long as he has i think he would for a few days + Longer dear Miss --- I wash for William and i have not got his clothes + yet as it has been delayed by the carrier & i cannot possiblely get it + done before Sunday and i do not Like traviling on a Sunday but to + oblige you i would come but to come sooner i cannot possiblely but i + hope Sarah Ann will be prevailed on once more as She has so many times + i feel sure if she tells her young man he will have patient for he is + a very kind young man + + "i remain your sincerely + "ELIZABETH NEWTON." + +The last letter in my collection seems written almost within measurable +distance of the Christmas-card era. The sheet is headed by a beautifully +embossed device of some holly in red and green, wishing the recipient of +the letter a merry Xmas and a happy new year, while the border is crimped +and edged with blue. I know not what it is, but there is something in +the writer's highly finished style that reminds me of Mendelssohn. It +would almost do for the words of one of his celebrated "Lieder ohne +Worte": + + "DEAR MISS MARIA,--I hasten to acknowledge the receipt of your kind + note with the inclosure for which I return my best thanks. I need + scarcely say how glad I was to know that the volumes secured your + approval, and that the announcement of the improvement in the + condition of your Sister's legs afforded me infinite pleasure. The + gratifying news encouraged me in the hope that now the nature of the + disorder is comprehended her legs will--notwithstanding the process + may be gradual--ultimately get quite well. The pretty Robin Redbreast + which lay ensconced in your epistle, conveyed to me, in terms more + eloquent than words, how much you desired me those Compliments which + the little missive he bore in his bill expressed; the emblem is + sweetly pretty, and now that we are again allowed to felicitate each + other on another recurrence of the season of the Christian's + rejoicing, permit me to tender to yourself, and by you to your Sister, + mine and my Wife's heartfelt congratulations and warmest wishes with + respect to the coming year. It is a common belief that if we take a + retrospective view of each departing year, as it behoves us annually + to do, we shall find the blessings which we have received to + immeasurably outnumber our causes of sorrow. Speaking for myself I + can fully subscribe to that sentiment, and doubtless neither Miss --- + nor yourself are exceptions. Miss ---'s illness and consequent + confinement to the house has been a severe trial, but in that trouble + an opportunity was afforded you to prove a Sister's devotion and she + has been enabled to realise a larger (if possible) display of sisterly + affection. + + "A happy Christmas to you both, and may the new year prove a + Cornucopia from which still greater blessings than even those we have + hitherto received, shall issue, to benefit us all by contributing to + our temporal happiness and, what is of higher importance, conducing to + our felicity hereafter. + + "I was sorry to hear that you were so annoyed with mice and rats, and + if I should have an opportunity to obtain a nice cat I will do so and + send my boy to your house with it. + + "I remain, + "Yours truly." + +How little what is commonly called education can do after all towards the +formation of a good style, and what a delightful volume might not be +entitled "Half Hours with the Worst Authors." Why, the finest word I +know of in the English language was coined, not by my poor old +grandfather, whose education had left little to desire, nor by any of the +admirable scholars whom he in his turn educated, but by an old matron who +presided over one of the halls, or houses of his school. + +This good lady, whose name by the way was Bromfield, had a fine high +temper of her own, or thought it politic to affect one. One night when +the boys were particularly noisy she burst like a hurricane into the +hall, collared a youngster, and told him he was "the +ramp-ingest-scampingest-rackety-tackety-tow-row-roaringest boy in the +whole school." Would Mrs. Newton have been able to set the aunt and the +dog before us so vividly if she had been more highly educated? Would +Mrs. Bromfield have been able to forge and hurl her thunderbolt of a word +if she had been taught how to do so, or indeed been at much pains to +create it at all? It came. It was her [Greek text]. She did not +probably know that she had done what the greatest scholar would have had +to rack his brains over for many an hour before he could even approach. +Tradition says that having brought down her boy she looked round the hall +in triumph, and then after a moment's lull said, "Young gentlemen, +prayers are excused," and left them. + +I have sometimes thought that, after all, the main use of a classical +education consists in the check it gives to originality, and the way in +which it prevents an inconvenient number of people from using their own +eyes. That we will not be at the trouble of looking at things for +ourselves if we can get any one to tell us what we ought to see goes +without saying, and it is the business of schools and universities to +assist us in this respect. The theory of evolution teaches that any +power not worked at pretty high pressure will deteriorate: originality +and freedom from affectation are all very well in their way, but we can +easily have too much of them, and it is better that none should be either +original or free from cant but those who insist on being so, no matter +what hindrances obstruct, nor what incentives are offered them to see +things through the regulation medium. + +To insist on seeing things for oneself is to be in [Greek text], or in +plain English, an idiot; nor do I see any safer check against general +vigour and clearness of thought, with consequent terseness of expression, +than that provided by the curricula of our universities and schools of +public instruction. If a young man, in spite of every effort to fit him +with blinkers, will insist on getting rid of them, he must do so at his +own risk. He will not be long in finding out his mistake. Our public +schools and universities play the beneficent part in our social scheme +that cattle do in forests: they browse the seedlings down and prevent the +growth of all but the luckiest and sturdiest. Of course, if there are +too many either cattle or schools, they browse so effectually that they +find no more food, and starve till equilibrium is restored; but it seems +to be a provision of nature that there should always be these alternate +periods, during which either the cattle or the trees are getting the best +of it; and, indeed, without such provision we should have neither the one +nor the other. At this moment the cattle, doubtless, are in the +ascendant, and if university extension proceeds much farther, we shall +assuredly have no more Mrs. Newtons and Mrs. Bromfields; but whatever is +is best, and, on the whole, I should propose to let things find pretty +much their own level. + +However this may be, who can question that the treasures hidden in many a +country house contain sleeping beauties even fairer than those that I +have endeavoured to waken from long sleep in the foregoing article? How +many Mrs. Quicklys are there not living in London at this present moment? +For that Mrs. Quickly was an invention of Shakespeare's I will not +believe. The old woman from whom he drew said every word that he put +into Mrs. Quickly's mouth, and a great deal more which he did not and +perhaps could not make use of. This question, however, would again lead +me far from my subject, which I should mar were I to dwell upon it +longer, and therefore leave with the hope that it may give my readers +absolutely no food whatever for reflection. + + + + +HOW TO MAKE THE BEST OF LIFE {4} + + +I have been asked to speak on the question how to make the best of life, +but may as well confess at once that I know nothing about it. I cannot +think that I have made the best of my own life, nor is it likely that I +shall make much better of what may or may not remain to me. I do not +even know how to make the best of the twenty minutes that your committee +has placed at my disposal, and as for life as a whole, who ever yet made +the best of such a colossal opportunity by conscious effort and +deliberation? In little things no doubt deliberate and conscious effort +will help us, but we are speaking of large issues, and such kingdoms of +heaven as the making the best of these come not by observation. + +The question, therefore, on which I have undertaken to address you is, as +you must all know, fatuous, if it be faced seriously. Life is like +playing a violin solo in public and learning the instrument as one goes +on. One cannot make the best of such impossibilities, and the question +is doubly fatuous until we are told which of our two lives--the conscious +or the unconscious--is held by the asker to be the truer life. Which +does the question contemplate--the life we know, or the life which others +may know, but which we know not? + +Death gives a life to some men and women compared with which their so- +called existence here is as nothing. Which is the truer life of +Shakespeare, Handel, that divine woman who wrote the "Odyssey," and of +Jane Austen--the life which palpitated with sensible warm motion within +their own bodies, or that in virtue of which they are still palpitating +in ours? In whose consciousness does their truest life consist--their +own, or ours? Can Shakespeare be said to have begun his true life till a +hundred years or so after he was dead and buried? His physical life was +but as an embryonic stage, a coming up out of darkness, a twilight and +dawn before the sunrise of that life of the world to come which he was to +enjoy hereafter. We all live for a while after we are gone hence, but we +are for the most part stillborn, or at any rate die in infancy, as +regards that life which every age and country has recognised as higher +and truer than the one of which we are now sentient. As the life of the +race is larger, longer, and in all respects more to be considered than +that of the individual, so is the life we live in others larger and more +important than the one we live in ourselves. This appears nowhere +perhaps more plainly than in the case of great teachers, who often in the +lives of their pupils produce an effect that reaches far beyond anything +produced while their single lives were yet unsupplemented by those other +lives into which they infused their own. + +Death to such people is the ending of a short life, but it does not touch +the life they are already living in those whom they have taught; and +happily, as none can know when he shall die, so none can make sure that +he too shall not live long beyond the grave; for the life after death is +like money before it--no one can be sure that it may not fall to him or +her even at the eleventh hour. Money and immortality come in such odd +unaccountable ways that no one is cut off from hope. We may not have +made either of them for ourselves, but yet another may give them to us in +virtue of his or her love, which shall illumine us for ever, and +establish us in some heavenly mansion whereof we neither dreamed nor +shall ever dream. Look at the Doge Loredano Loredani, the old man's +smile upon whose face has been reproduced so faithfully in so many lands +that it can never henceforth be forgotten--would he have had one +hundredth part of the life he now lives had he not been linked awhile +with one of those heaven-sent men who know _che cosa e amor_? Look at +Rembrandt's old woman in our National Gallery; had she died before she +was eighty-three years old she would not have been living now. Then, +when she was eighty-three, immortality perched upon her as a bird on a +withered bough. + +I seem to hear some one say that this is a mockery, a piece of special +pleading, a giving of stones to those that ask for bread. Life is not +life unless we can feel it, and a life limited to a knowledge of such +fraction of our work as may happen to survive us is no true life in other +people; salve it as we may, death is not life any more than black is +white. + +The objection is not so true as it sounds. I do not deny that we had +rather not die, nor do I pretend that much even in the case of the most +favoured few can survive them beyond the grave. It is only because this +is so that our own life is possible; others have made room for us, and we +should make room for others in our turn without undue repining. What I +maintain is that a not inconsiderable number of people do actually attain +to a life beyond the grave which we can all feel forcibly enough, whether +they can do so or not--that this life tends with increasing civilisation +to become more and more potent, and that it is better worth considering, +in spite of its being unfelt by ourselves, than any which we have felt or +can ever feel in our own persons. + +Take an extreme case. A group of people are photographed by Edison's new +process--say Titiens, Trebelli, and Jenny Lind, with any two of the +finest men singers the age has known--let them be photographed +incessantly for half an hour while they perform a scene in "Lohengrin"; +let all be done stereoscopically. Let them be phonographed at the same +time so that their minutest shades of intonation are preserved, let the +slides be coloured by a competent artist, and then let the scene be +called suddenly into sight and sound, say a hundred years hence. Are +those people dead or alive? Dead to themselves they are, but while they +live so powerfully and so livingly in us, which is the greater paradox--to +say that they are alive or that they are dead? To myself it seems that +their life in others would be more truly life than their death to +themselves is death. Granted that they do not present all the phenomena +of life--who ever does so even when he is held to be alive? We are held +to be alive because we present a sufficient number of living phenomena to +let the others go without saying; those who see us take the part for the +whole here as in everything else, and surely, in the case supposed above, +the phenomena of life predominate so powerfully over those of death, that +the people themselves must be held to be more alive than dead. Our +living personality is, as the word implies, only our mask, and those who +still own such a mask as I have supposed have a living personality. +Granted again that the case just put is an extreme one; still many a man +and many a woman has so stamped him or herself on his work that, though +we would gladly have the aid of such accessories as we doubtless +presently shall have to the livingness of our great dead, we can see them +very sufficiently through the master pieces they have left us. + +As for their own unconsciousness I do not deny it. The life of the +embryo was unconscious before birth, and so is the life--I am speaking +only of the life revealed to us by natural religion--after death. But as +the embryonic and infant life of which we were unconscious was the most +potent factor in our after life of consciousness, so the effect which we +may unconsciously produce in others after death, and it may be even +before it on those who have never seen us, is in all sober seriousness +our truer and more abiding life, and the one which those who would make +the best of their sojourn here will take most into their consideration. + +Unconsciousness is no bar to livingness. Our conscious actions are a +drop in the sea as compared with our unconscious ones. Could we know all +the life that is in us by way of circulation, nutrition, breathing, waste +and repair, we should learn what an infinitesimally small part +consciousness plays in our present existence; yet our unconscious life is +as truly life as our conscious life, and though it is unconscious to +itself it emerges into an indirect and vicarious consciousness in our +other and conscious self, which exists but in virtue of our unconscious +self. So we have also a vicarious consciousness in others. The +unconscious life of those that have gone before us has in great part +moulded us into such men and women as we are, and our own unconscious +lives will in like manner have a vicarious consciousness in others, +though we be dead enough to it in ourselves. + +If it is again urged that it matters not to us how much we may be alive +in others, if we are to know nothing about it, I reply that the common +instinct of all who are worth considering gives the lie to such cynicism. +I see here present some who have achieved, and others who no doubt will +achieve, success in literature. Will one of them hesitate to admit that +it is a lively pleasure to her to feel that on the other side of the +world some one may be smiling happily over her work, and that she is thus +living in that person though she knows nothing about it? Here it seems +to me that true faith comes in. Faith does not consist, as the Sunday +School pupil said, "in the power of believing that which we know to be +untrue." It consists in holding fast that which the healthiest and most +kindly instincts of the best and most sensible men and women are +intuitively possessed of, without caring to require much evidence further +than the fact that such people are so convinced; and for my own part I +find the best men and women I know unanimous in feeling that life in +others, even though we know nothing about it, is nevertheless a thing to +be desired and gratefully accepted if we can get it either before death +or after. I observe also that a large number of men and women do +actually attain to such life, and in some cases continue so to live, if +not for ever, yet to what is practically much the same thing. Our life +then in this world is, to natural religion as much as to revealed, a +period of probation. The use we make of it is to settle how far we are +to enter into another, and whether that other is to be a heaven of just +affection or a hell of righteous condemnation. + +Who, then, are the most likely so to run that they may obtain this +veritable prize of our high calling? Setting aside such lucky numbers +drawn as it were in the lottery of immortality, which I have referred to +casually above, and setting aside also the chances and changes from which +even immortality is not exempt, who on the whole are most likely to live +anew in the affectionate thoughts of those who never so much as saw them +in the flesh, and know not even their names? There is a _nisus_, a +straining in the dull dumb economy of things, in virtue of which some, +whether they will it and know it or no, are more likely to live after +death than others, and who are these? Those who aimed at it as by some +great thing that they would do to make them famous? Those who have lived +most in themselves and for themselves, or those who have been most +ensouled consciously, but perhaps better unconsciously, directly but more +often indirectly, by the most living souls past and present that have +flitted near them? Can we think of a man or woman who grips us firmly, +at the thought of whom we kindle when we are alone in our honest daw's +plumes, with none to admire or shrug his shoulders, can we think of one +such, the secret of whose power does not lie in the charm of his or her +personality--that is to say, in the wideness of his or her sympathy with, +and therefore life in and communion with other people? In the wreckage +that comes ashore from the sea of time there is much tinsel stuff that we +must preserve and study if we would know our own times and people; +granted that many a dead charlatan lives long and enters largely and +necessarily into our own lives; we use them and throw them away when we +have done with them. I do not speak of these, I do not speak of the +Virgils and Alexander Popes, and who can say how many more whose names I +dare not mention for fear of offending. They are as stuffed birds or +beasts in a Museum, serviceable no doubt from a scientific standpoint, +but with no vivid or vivifying hold upon us. They seem to be alive, but +are not. I am speaking of those who do actually live in us, and move us +to higher achievements though they be long dead, whose life thrusts out +our own and overrides it. I speak of those who draw us ever more towards +them from youth to age, and to think of whom is to feel at once that we +are in the hands of those we love, and whom we would most wish to +resemble. What is the secret of the hold that these people have upon us? +Is it not that while, conventionally speaking, alive, they most merged +their lives in, and were in fullest communion with those among whom they +lived? They found their lives in losing them. We never love the memory +of any one unless we feel that he or she was himself or herself a lover. + +I have seen it urged, again, in querulous accents, that the so-called +immortality even of the most immortal is not for ever. I see a passage +to this effect in a book that is making a stir as I write. I will quote +it. The writer says:-- + + "So, it seems to me, is the immortality we so glibly predicate of + departed artists. If they survive at all, it is but a shadowy life + they live, moving on through the gradations of slow decay to distant + but inevitable death. They can no longer, as heretofore, speak + directly to the hearts of their fellow-men, evoking their tears or + laughter, and all the pleasures, be they sad or merry, of which + imagination holds the secret. Driven from the marketplace they become + first the companions of the student, then the victims of the + specialist. He who would still hold familiar intercourse with them + must train himself to penetrate the veil which in ever-thickening + folds conceals them from the ordinary gaze; he must catch the tone of + a vanished society, he must move in a circle of alien associations, he + must think in a language not his own." {5} + +This is crying for the moon, or rather pretending to cry for it, for the +writer is obviously insincere. I see the _Saturday Review_ says the +passage I have just quoted "reaches almost to poetry," and indeed I find +many blank verses in it, some of them very aggressive. No prose is free +from an occasional blank verse, and a good writer will not go hunting +over his work to rout them out, but nine or ten in little more than as +many lines is indeed reaching too near to poetry for good prose. This, +however, is a trifle, and might pass if the tone of the writer was not so +obviously that of cheap pessimism. I know not which is cheapest, +pessimism or optimism. One forces lights, the other darks; both are +equally untrue to good art, and equally sure of their effect with the +groundlings. The one extenuates, the other sets down in malice. The +first is the more amiable lie, but both are lies, and are known to be so +by those who utter them. Talk about catching the tone of a vanished +society to understand Rembrandt or Giovanni Bellini! It's nonsense--the +folds do not thicken in front of these men; we understand them as well as +those among whom they went about in the flesh, and perhaps better. Homer +and Shakespeare speak to us probably far more effectually than they did +to the men of their own time, and most likely we have them at their best. +I cannot think that Shakespeare talked better than we hear him now in +"Hamlet" or "Henry the Fourth"; like enough he would have been found a +very disappointing person in a drawing-room. People stamp themselves on +their work; if they have not done so they are naught; if they have we +have them; and for the most part they stamp themselves deeper in their +work than on their talk. No doubt Shakespeare and Handel will be one day +clean forgotten, as though they had never been born. The world will in +the end die; mortality therefore itself is not immortal, and when death +dies the life of these men will die with it--but not sooner. It is +enough that they should live within us and move us for many ages as they +have and will. Such immortality, therefore, as some men and women are +born to, achieve, or have thrust upon them, is a practical if not a +technical immortality, and he who would have more let him have nothing. + +I see I have drifted into speaking rather of how to make the best of +death than of life, but who can speak of life without his thoughts +turning instantly to that which is beyond it? He or she who has made the +best of the life after death has made the best of the life before it; who +cares one straw for any such chances and changes as will commonly befall +him here if he is upheld by the full and certain hope of everlasting life +in the affections of those that shall come after? If the life after +death is happy in the hearts of others, it matters little how unhappy was +the life before it. + +And now I leave my subject, not without misgiving that I shall have +disappointed you. But for the great attention which is being paid to the +work from which I have quoted above, I should not have thought it well to +insist on points with which you are, I doubt not, as fully impressed as I +am: but that book weakens the sanctions of natural religion, and +minimises the comfort which it affords us, while it does more to +undermine than to support the foundations of what is commonly called +belief. Therefore I was glad to embrace this opportunity of protesting. +Otherwise I should not have been so serious on a matter that transcends +all seriousness. Lord Beaconsfield cut it shorter with more effect. When +asked to give a rule of life for the son of a friend he said, "Do not let +him try and find out who wrote the letters of Junius." Pressed for +further counsel he added, "Nor yet who was the man in the iron mask"--and +he would say no more. Don't bore people. And yet I am by no means sure +that a good many people do not think themselves ill-used unless he who +addresses them has thoroughly well bored them--especially if they have +paid any money for hearing him. My great namesake said, "Surely the +pleasure is as great of being cheated as to cheat," and great as the +pleasure both of cheating and boring undoubtedly is, I believe he was +right. So I remember a poem which came out some thirty years ago in +_Punch_, about a young lady who went forth in quest to "Some burden make +or burden bear, but which she did not greatly care, oh Miserie." So, +again, all the holy men and women who in the Middle Ages professed to +have discovered how to make the best of life took care that being bored, +if not cheated, should have a large place in their programme. Still +there are limits, and I close not without fear that I may have exceeded +them. + + + + +THE SANCTUARY OF MONTRIGONE {6} + + +The only place in the Valsesia, except Varallo, where I at present +suspect the presence of Tabachetti {7} is at Montrigone, a little-known +sanctuary dedicated to St. Anne, about three-quarters of a mile south of +Borgo-Sesia station. The situation is, of course, lovely, but the +sanctuary does not offer any features of architectural interest. The +sacristan told me it was founded in 1631; and in 1644 Giovanni d'Enrico, +while engaged in superintending and completing the work undertaken here +by himself and Giacomo Ferro, fell ill and died. I do not know whether +or no there was an earlier sanctuary on the same site, but was told it +was built on the demolition of a stronghold belonging to the Counts of +Biandrate. + +The incidents which it illustrates are treated with even more than the +homeliness usual in works of this description when not dealing with such +solemn events as the death and passion of Christ. Except when these +subjects were being represented, something of the latitude, and even +humour, allowed in the old mystery plays was permitted, doubtless from a +desire to render the work more attractive to the peasants, who were the +most numerous and most important pilgrims. It is not until faith begins +to be weak that it fears an occasionally lighter treatment of semi-sacred +subjects, and it is impossible to convey an accurate idea of the spirit +prevailing at this hamlet of sanctuary without attuning oneself somewhat +to the more pagan character of the place. Of irreverence, in the sense +of a desire to laugh at things that are of high and serious import, there +is not a trace, but at the same time there is a certain unbending of the +bow at Montrigone which is not perceivable at Varallo. + +The first chapel to the left on entering the church is that of the Birth +of the Virgin. St. Anne is sitting up in bed. She is not at all ill--in +fact, considering that the Virgin has only been born about five minutes, +she is wonderful; still the doctors think it may be perhaps better that +she should keep her room for half an hour longer, so the bed has been +festooned with red and white paper roses, and the counterpane is covered +with bouquets in baskets and in vases of glass and china. These cannot +have been there during the actual birth of the Virgin, so I suppose they +had been in readiness, and were brought in from an adjoining room as soon +as the baby had been born. A lady on her left is bringing in some more +flowers, which St. Anne is receiving with a smile and most gracious +gesture of the hands. The first thing she asked for, when the birth was +over, was for her three silver hearts. These were immediately brought to +her, and she has got them all on, tied round her neck with a piece of +blue silk ribbon. + +Dear mamma has come. We felt sure she would, and that any little +misunderstandings between her and Joachim would ere long be forgotten and +forgiven. They are both so good and sensible if they would only +understand one another. At any rate, here she is, in high state at the +right hand of the bed. She is dressed in black, for she has lost her +husband some few years previously, but I do not believe a smarter, sprier +old lady for her years could be found in Palestine, nor yet that either +Giovanni d'Enrico or Giacomo Ferro could have conceived or executed such +a character. The sacristan wanted to have it that she was not a woman at +all, but was a portrait of St. Joachim, the Virgin's father. "Sembra una +donna," he pleaded more than once, "ma non e donna." Surely, however, in +works of art even more than in other things, there is no "is" but +seeming, and if a figure seems female it must be taken as such. Besides, +I asked one of the leading doctors at Varallo whether the figure was man +or woman. He said it was evident I was not married, for that if I had +been I should have seen at once that she was not only a woman but a +mother-in-law of the first magnitude, or, as he called it, "una suocera +tremenda," and this without knowing that I wanted her to be a mother-in- +law myself. Unfortunately she had no real drapery, so I could not settle +the question as my friend Mr. H. F. Jones and I had been able to do at +Varallo with the figure of Eve that had been turned into a Roman soldier +assisting at the capture of Christ. I am not, however, disposed to waste +more time upon anything so obvious, and will content myself with saying +that we have here the Virgin's grandmother. I had never had the +pleasure, so far as I remembered, of meeting this lady before, and was +glad to have an opportunity of making her acquaintance. + +Tradition says that it was she who chose the Virgin's name, and if so, +what a debt of gratitude do we not owe her for her judicious selection! +It makes one shudder to think what might have happened if she had named +the child Keren-Happuch, as poor Job's daughter was called. How could we +have said, "Ave Keren-Happuch!" What would the musicians have done? I +forget whether Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz was a man or a woman, but there were +plenty of names quite as unmanageable at the Virgin's grandmother's +option, and we cannot sufficiently thank her for having chosen one that +is so euphonious in every language which we need take into account. For +this reason alone we should not grudge her her portrait, but we should +try to draw the line here. I do not think we ought to give the Virgin's +great-grandmother a statue. Where is it to end? It is like Mr. +Crookes's ultimissimate atoms; we used to draw the line at ultimate +atoms, and now it seems we are to go a step farther back and have +ultimissimate atoms. How long, I wonder, will it be before we feel that +it will be a material help to us to have ultimissimissimate atoms? +Quavers stopped at demi-semi-demi, but there is no reason to suppose that +either atoms or ancestresses of the Virgin will be so complacent. + +I have said that on St. Anne's left hand there is a lady who is bringing +in some flowers. St. Anne was always passionately fond of flowers. There +is a pretty story told about her in one of the Fathers, I forget which, +to the effect that when a child she was asked which she liked best--cakes +or flowers? She could not yet speak plainly and lisped out, "Oh fowses, +pretty fowses"; she added, however, with a sigh and as a kind of wistful +corollary, "but cakes are very nice." She is not to have any cakes, just +now, but as soon as she has done thanking the lady for her beautiful +nosegay, she is to have a couple of nice new-laid eggs, that are being +brought her by another lady. Valsesian women immediately after their +confinement always have eggs beaten up with wine and sugar, and one can +tell a Valsesian Birth of the Virgin from a Venetian or a Florentine by +the presence of the eggs. I learned this from an eminent Valsesian +professor of medicine, who told me that, though not according to received +rules, the eggs never seemed to do any harm. Here they are evidently to +be beaten up, for there is neither spoon nor egg-cup, and we cannot +suppose that they were hard-boiled. On the other hand, in the Middle +Ages Italians never used egg-cups and spoons for boiled eggs. The +mediaeval boiled egg was always eaten by dipping bread into the yolk. + +Behind the lady who is bringing in the eggs is the under-under-nurse who +is at the fire warming a towel. In the foreground we have the regulation +midwife holding the regulation baby (who, by the way, was an +astonishingly fine child for only five minutes old). Then comes the +under-nurse--a good buxom creature, who, as usual, is feeling the water +in the bath to see that it is of the right temperature. Next to her is +the head-nurse, who is arranging the cradle. Behind the head-nurse is +the under-under-nurse's drudge, who is just going out upon some errands. +Lastly--for by this time we have got all round the chapel--we arrive at +the Virgin's grandmother's-body-guard, a stately, responsible-looking +lady, standing in waiting upon her mistress. I put it to the reader--is +it conceivable that St. Joachim should have been allowed in such a room +at such a time, or that he should have had the courage to avail himself +of the permission, even though it had been extended to him? At any rate, +is it conceivable that he should have been allowed to sit on St. Anne's +right hand, laying down the law with a "Marry, come up here," and a +"Marry, go-down there," and a couple of such unabashed collars as the old +lady has put on for the occasion? + +Moreover (for I may as well demolish this mischievous confusion between +St. Joachim and his mother-in-law once and for all), the merest tyro in +hagiology knows that St. Joachim was not at home when the Virgin was +born. He had been hustled out of the temple for having no children, and +had fled desolate and dismayed into the wilderness. It shows how silly +people are, for all the time he was going, if they had only waited a +little, to be the father of the most remarkable person of purely human +origin who had ever been born, and such a parent as this should surely +not be hurried. The story is told in the frescoes of the chapel of +Loreto, only a quarter of an hour's walk from Varallo, and no one can +have known it better than D'Enrico. The frescoes are explained by +written passages that tell us how, when Joachim was in the desert, an +angel came to him in the guise of a fair, civil young gentleman, and told +him the Virgin was to be born. Then, later on, the same young gentleman +appeared to him again, and bade him "in God's name be comforted, and turn +again to his content," for the Virgin had been actually born. On which +St. Joachim, who seems to have been of opinion that marriage after all +_was_ rather a failure, said that, as things were going on so nicely +without him, he would stay in the desert just a little longer, and +offered up a lamb as a pretext to gain time. Perhaps he guessed about +his mother-in-law, or he may have asked the angel. Of course, even in +spite of such evidence as this I may be mistaken about the Virgin's +grandmother's sex, and the sacristan may be right; but I can only say +that if the lady sitting by St. Anne's bedside at Montrigone is the +Virgin's father--well, in that case I must reconsider a good deal that I +have been accustomed to believe was beyond question. + +Taken singly, I suppose that none of the figures in the chapel, except +the Virgin's grandmother, should be rated very highly. The under-nurse +is the next best figure, and might very well be Tabachetti's, for neither +Giovanni d'Enrico nor Giacomo Ferro was successful with his female +characters. There is not a single really comfortable woman in any chapel +by either of them on the Sacro Monte at Varallo. Tabachetti, on the +other hand, delighted in women; if they were young he made them comely +and engaging, if they were old he gave them dignity and individual +character, and the under-nurse is much more in accordance with +Tabachetti's habitual mental attitude than with D'Enrico's or Giacomo +Ferro's. Still there are only four figures out of the eleven that are +mere otiose supers, and taking the work as a whole it leaves a pleasant +impression as being throughout naive and homely, and sometimes, which is +of less importance, technically excellent. + +Allowance must, of course, be made for tawdry accessories and repeated +coats of shiny oleaginous paint--very disagreeable where it has peeled +off and almost more so where it has not. What work could stand against +such treatment as the Valsesian terra-cotta figures have had to put up +with? Take the Venus of Milo; let her be done in terra-cotta, and have +run, not much, but still something, in the baking; paint her pink, two +oils, all over, and then varnish her--it will help to preserve the paint; +glue a lot of horsehair on to her pate, half of which shall have come +off, leaving the glue still showing; scrape her, not too thoroughly, get +the village drawing-master to paint her again, and the drawing-master in +the next provincial town to put a forest background behind her with the +brightest emerald-green leaves that he can do for the money; let this +painting and scraping and repainting be repeated several times over; +festoon her with pink and white flowers made of tissue paper; surround +her with the cheapest German imitations of the cheapest decorations that +Birmingham can produce; let the night air and winter fogs get at her for +three hundred years, and how easy, I wonder, will it be to see the +goddess who will be still in great part there? True, in the case of the +Birth of the Virgin chapel at Montrigone, there is no real hair and no +fresco background, but time has had abundant opportunities without these. +I will conclude my notice of this chapel by saying that on the left, +above the door through which the under-under-nurse's drudge is about to +pass, there is a good painted terra-cotta bust, said--but I believe on no +authority--to be a portrait of Giovanni d'Enrico. Others say that the +Virgin's grandmother is Giovanni d'Enrico, but this is even more absurd +than supposing her to be St. Joachim. + +The next chapel to the Birth of the Virgin is that of the _Sposalizio_. +There is no figure here which suggests Tabachetti, but still there are +some very good ones. The best have no taint of _barocco_; the man who +did them, whoever he may have been, had evidently a good deal of life and +go, was taking reasonable pains, and did not know too much. Where this +is the case no work can fail to please. Some of the figures have real +hair and some terra cotta. There is no fresco background worth +mentioning. A man sitting on the steps of the altar with a book on his +lap, and holding up his hand to another, who is leaning over him and +talking to him, is among the best figures; some of the disappointed +suitors who are breaking their wands are also very good. + +The angel in the Annunciation chapel, which comes next in order, is a +fine, burly, ship's-figurehead, commercial-hotel sort of being enough, +but the Virgin is very ordinary. There is no real hair and no fresco +background, only three dingy old blistered pictures of no interest +whatever. + +In the visit of Mary to Elizabeth there are three pleasing subordinate +lady attendants, two to the left and one to the right of the principal +figures; but these figures themselves are not satisfactory. There is no +fresco background. Some of the figures have real hair and some terra +cotta. + +In the Circumcision and Purification chapel--for both these events seem +contemplated in the one that follows--there are doves, but there is +neither dog nor knife. Still Simeon, who has the infant Saviour in his +arms, is looking at him in a way which can only mean that, knife or no +knife, the matter is not going to end here. At Varallo they have now got +a dreadful knife for the Circumcision chapel. They had none last winter. +What they have now got would do very well to kill a bullock with, but +could not be used professionally with safety for any animal smaller than +a rhinoceros. I imagine that some one was sent to Novara to buy a knife, +and that, thinking it was for the Massacre of the Innocents chapel, he +got the biggest he could see. Then when he brought it back people said +"chow" several times, and put it upon the table and went away. + +Returning to Montrigone, the Simeon is an excellent figure, and the +Virgin is fairly good, but the prophetess Anna, who stands just behind +her, is by far the most interesting in the group, and is alone enough to +make me feel sure that Tabachetti gave more or less help here, as he had +done years before at Orta. She, too, like the Virgin's grandmother, is a +widow lady, and wears collars of a cut that seems to have prevailed ever +since the Virgin was born some twenty years previously. There is a +largeness and simplicity of treatment about the figure to which none but +an artist of the highest rank can reach, and D'Enrico was not more than a +second or third-rate man. The hood is like Handel's Truth sailing upon +the broad wings of Time, a prophetic strain that nothing but the old +experience of a great poet can reach. The lips of the prophetess are for +the moment closed, but she has been prophesying all the morning, and the +people round the wall in the background are in ecstasies at the lucidity +with which she has explained all sorts of difficulties that they had +never been able to understand till now. They are putting their +forefingers on their thumbs and their thumbs on their forefingers, and +saying how clearly they see it all and what a wonderful woman Anna is. A +prophet indeed is not generally without honour save in his own country, +but then a country is generally not without honour save with its own +prophet, and Anna has been glorifying her country rather than reviling +it. Besides, the rule may not have applied to prophetesses. + +The Death of the Virgin is the last of the six chapels inside the church +itself. The Apostles, who of course are present, have all of them real +hair, but, if I may say so, they want a wash and a brush-up so very badly +that I cannot feel any confidence in writing about them. I should say +that, take them all round, they are a good average sample of apostle as +apostles generally go. Two or three of them are nervously anxious to +find appropriate quotations in books that lie open before them, which +they are searching with eager haste; but I do not see one figure about +which I should like to say positively that it is either good or bad. +There is a good bust of a man, matching the one in the Birth of the +Virgin chapel, which is said to be a portrait of Giovanni d'Enrico, but +it is not known whom it represents. + +Outside the church, in three contiguous cells that form part of the +foundations, are:-- + +1. A dead Christ, the head of which is very impressive while the rest of +the figure is poor. I examined the treatment of the hair, which is terra- +cotta, and compared it with all other like hair in the chapels above +described; I could find nothing like it, and think it most likely that +Giacomo Ferro did the figure, and got Tabachetti to do the head, or that +they brought the head from some unused figure by Tabachetti at Varallo, +for I know no other artist of the time and neighbourhood who could have +done it. + +2. A Magdalene in the desert. The desert is a little coal-cellar of an +arch, containing a skull and a profusion of pink and white paper +bouquets, the two largest of which the Magdalene is hugging while she is +saying her prayers. She is a very self-sufficient lady, who we may be +sure will not stay in the desert a day longer than she can help, and +while there will flirt even with the skull if she can find nothing better +to flirt with. I cannot think that her repentance is as yet genuine, and +as for her praying there is no object in her doing so, for she does not +want anything. + +3. In the next desert there is a very beautiful figure of St. John the +Baptist kneeling and looking upwards. This figure puzzles me more than +any other at Montrigone; it appears to be of the fifteenth rather than +the sixteenth century; it hardly reminds me of Gaudenzio, and still less +of any other Valsesian artist. It is a work of unusual beauty, but I can +form no idea as to its authorship. + +I wrote the foregoing pages in the church at Montrigone itself, having +brought my camp-stool with me. It was Sunday; the church was open all +day, but there was no mass said, and hardly any one came. The sacristan +was a kind, gentle, little old man, who let me do whatever I wanted. He +sat on the doorstep of the main door, mending vestments, and to this end +was cutting up a fine piece of figured silk from one to two hundred years +old, which, if I could have got it, for half its value, I should much +like to have bought. I sat in the cool of the church while he sat in the +doorway, which was still in shadow, snipping and snipping, and then +sewing, I am sure with admirable neatness. He made a charming picture, +with the arched portico over his head, the green grass and low church +wall behind him, and then a lovely landscape of wood and pasture and +valleys and hillside. Every now and then he would come and chirrup about +Joachim, for he was pained and shocked at my having said that his Joachim +was some one else and not Joachim at all. I said I was very sorry, but I +was afraid the figure was a woman. He asked me what he was to do. He +had known it, man and boy, this sixty years, and had always shown it as +St. Joachim; he had never heard any one but myself question his +ascription, and could not suddenly change his mind about it at the +bidding of a stranger. At the same time he felt it was a very serious +thing to continue showing it as the Virgin's father if it was really her +grandmother. I told him I thought this was a case for his spiritual +director, and that if he felt uncomfortable about it he should consult +his parish priest and do as he was told. + +On leaving Montrigone, with a pleasant sense of having made acquaintance +with a new and, in many respects, interesting work, I could not get the +sacristan and our difference of opinion out of my head. What, I asked +myself, are the differences that unhappily divide Christendom, and what +are those that divide Christendom from modern schools of thought, but a +seeing of Joachims as the Virgin's grandmothers on a larger scale? True, +we cannot call figures Joachim when we know perfectly well that they are +nothing of the kind; but I registered a vow that henceforward when I +called Joachims the Virgin's grandmothers I would bear more in mind than +I have perhaps always hitherto done, how hard it is for those who have +been taught to see them as Joachims to think of them as something +different. I trust that I have not been unfaithful to this vow in the +preceding article. If the reader differs from me, let me ask him to +remember how hard it is for one who has got a figure well into his head +as the Virgin's grandmother to see it as Joachim. + + + + +A MEDIEVAL GIRL SCHOOL {8} + + +This last summer I revisited Oropa, near Biella, to see what connection I +could find between the Oropa chapels and those at Varallo. I will take +this opportunity of describing the chapels at Oropa, and more especially +the remarkable fossil, or petrified girl school, commonly known as the +_Dimora_, or Sojourn of the Virgin Mary in the Temple. + +If I do not take these works so seriously as the reader may expect, let +me beg him, before he blames me, to go to Oropa and see the originals for +himself. Have the good people of Oropa themselves taken them very +seriously? Are we in an atmosphere where we need be at much pains to +speak with bated breath? We, as is well known, love to take even our +pleasures sadly; the Italians take even their sadness _allegramente_, and +combine devotion with amusement in a manner that we shall do well to +study if not imitate. For this best agrees with what we gather to have +been the custom of Christ himself, who, indeed, never speaks of austerity +but to condemn it. If Christianity is to be a living faith, it must +penetrate a man's whole life, so that he can no more rid himself of it +than he can of his flesh and bones or of his breathing. The Christianity +that can be taken up and laid down as if it were a watch or a book is +Christianity in name only. The true Christian can no more part from +Christ in mirth than in sorrow. And, after all, what is the essence of +Christianity? What is the kernel of the nut? Surely common sense and +cheerfulness, with unflinching opposition to the charlatanisms and +Pharisaisms of a man's own times. The essence of Christianity lies +neither in dogma, nor yet in abnormally holy life, but in faith in an +unseen world, in doing one's duty, in speaking the truth, in finding the +true life rather in others than in oneself, and in the certain hope that +he who loses his life on these behalfs finds more than he has lost. What +can Agnosticism do against such Christianity as this? I should be +shocked if anything I had ever written or shall ever write should seem to +make light of these things. I should be shocked also if I did not know +how to be amused with things that amiable people obviously intended to be +amusing. + +The reader may need to be reminded that Oropa is among the somewhat +infrequent sanctuaries at which the Madonna and infant Christ are not +white, but black. I shall return to this peculiarity of Oropa later on, +but will leave it for the present. For the general characteristics of +the place I must refer the reader to my book, "Alps and Sanctuaries." {9} +I propose to confine myself here to the ten or a dozen chapels containing +life-sized terra-cotta figures, painted up to nature, that form one of +the main features of the place. At a first glance, perhaps, all these +chapels will seem uninteresting; I venture to think, however, that some, +if not most of them, though falling a good deal short of the best work at +Varallo and Crea, are still in their own way of considerable importance. +The first chapel with which we need concern ourselves is numbered 4, and +shows the Conception of the Virgin Mary. It represents St. Anne as +kneeling before a terrific dragon or, as the Italians call it, "insect," +about the size of a Crystal Palace pleiosaur. This "insect" is supposed +to have just had its head badly crushed by St. Anne, who seems to be +begging its pardon. The text "Ipsa conteret caput tuum" is written +outside the chapel. The figures have no artistic interest. As regards +dragons being called insects, the reader may perhaps remember that the +island of S. Giulio, in the Lago d'Orta, was infested with _insetti_, +which S. Giulio destroyed, and which appear, in a fresco underneath the +church on the island, to have been monstrous and ferocious dragons; but I +cannot remember whether their bodies are divided into three sections, and +whether or no they have exactly six legs--without which, I am told, they +cannot be true insects. + +The fifth chapel represents the birth of the Virgin. Having obtained +permission to go inside it, I found the date 1715 cut large and deep on +the back of one figure before baking, and I imagine that this date covers +the whole. There is a Queen Anne feeling throughout the composition, and +if we were told that the sculptor and Francis Bird, sculptor of the +statue in front of St. Paul's Cathedral, had studied under the same +master, we could very well believe it. The apartment in which the Virgin +was born is spacious, and in striking contrast to the one in which she +herself gave birth to the Redeemer. St. Anne occupies the centre of the +composition, in an enormous bed; on her right there is a lady of the +George Cruikshank style of beauty, and on the left an older person. Both +are gesticulating and impressing upon St. Anne the enormous obligation +she has just conferred upon mankind; they seem also to be imploring her +not to overtax her strength, but, strange to say, they are giving her +neither flowers nor anything to eat and drink. I know no other birth of +the Virgin in which St. Anne wants so little keeping up. + +I have explained in my book "Ex Voto," {10} but should perhaps repeat +here, that the distinguishing characteristic of the Birth of the Virgin, +as rendered by Valsesian artists, is that St. Anne always has eggs +immediately after the infant is born, and usually a good deal more, +whereas the Madonna never has anything to eat or drink. The eggs are in +accordance with a custom that still prevails among the peasant classes in +the Valsesia, where women on giving birth to a child generally are given +a _sabaglione_--an egg beaten up with a little wine, or rum, and sugar. +East of Milan the Virgin's mother does not have eggs, and I suppose, from +the absence of the eggs at Oropa, that the custom above referred to does +not prevail in the Biellese district. The Virgin also is invariably +washed. St. John the Baptist, when he is born at all, which is not very +often, is also washed; but I have not observed that St. Elizabeth has +anything like the attention paid her that is given to St. Anne. What, +however, is wanting here at Oropa in meat and drink is made up in Cupids; +they swarm like flies on the walls, clouds, cornices, and capitals of +columns. + +Against the right-hand wall are two lady-helps, each warming a towel at a +glowing fire, to be ready against the baby should come out of its bath; +while in the right-hand foreground we have the _levatrice_, who having +discharged her task, and being now so disposed, has removed the bottle +from the chimney-piece, and put it near some bread, fruit and a chicken, +over which she is about to discuss the confinement with two other +gossips. The _levatrice_ is a very characteristic figure, but the best +in the chapel is the one of the head nurse, near the middle of the +composition; she has now the infant in full charge, and is showing it to +St. Joachim, with an expression as though she were telling him that her +husband was a merry man. I am afraid Shakespeare was dead before the +sculptor was born, otherwise I should have felt certain that he had drawn +Juliet's nurse from this figure. As for the little Virgin herself, I +believe her to be a fine boy of about ten months old. Viewing the work +as a whole, if I only felt more sure what artistic merit really is, I +should say that, though the chapel cannot be rated very highly from some +standpoints, there are others from which it may be praised warmly enough. +It is innocent of anatomy-worship, free from affectation or swagger, and +not devoid of a good deal of homely _naivete_. It can no more be +compared with Tabachetti or Donatello than Hogarth can with Rembrandt or +Giovanni Bellini; but as it does not transcend the limitations of its +age, so neither is it wanting in whatever merits that age possessed; and +there is no age without merits of some kind. There is no inscription +saying who made the figures, but tradition gives them to Pietro Aureggio +Termine, of Biella, commonly called Aureggio. This is confirmed by their +strong resemblance to those in the _Dimora_ Chapel, in which there is an +inscription that names Aureggio as the sculptor. + +The sixth chapel deals with the Presentation of the Virgin in the Temple. +The Virgin is very small, but it must be remembered that she is only +seven years old, and she is not nearly so small as she is at Crea, where, +though a life-sized figure is intended, the head is hardly bigger than an +apple. She is rushing up the steps with open arms towards the High +Priest, who is standing at the top. For her it is nothing alarming; it +is the High Priest who appears frightened; but it will all come right in +time. The Virgin seems to be saying, "Why, don't you know me? I'm the +Virgin Mary." But the High Priest does not feel so sure about that, and +will make further inquiries. The scene, which comprises some twenty +figures, is animated enough, and though it hardly kindles enthusiasm, +still does not fail to please. It looks as though of somewhat older date +than the Birth of the Virgin chapel, and I should say shows more signs of +direct Valsesian influence. In Marocco's book about Oropa it is ascribed +to Aureggio, but I find it difficult to accept this. + +The seventh, and in many respects most interesting chapel at Oropa, shows +what is in reality a medieval Italian girl school, as nearly like the +thing itself as the artist could make it; we are expected, however, to +see in this the high-class kind of Girton College for young gentlewomen +that was attached to the Temple at Jerusalem, under the direction of the +Chief Priest's wife, or some one of his near female relatives. Here all +well-to-do Jewish young women completed their education, and here +accordingly we find the Virgin, whose parents desired she should shine in +every accomplishment, and enjoy all the advantages their ample means +commanded. + +I have met with no traces of the Virgin during the years between her +Presentation in the Temple and her becoming head girl at Temple College. +These years, we may be assured, can hardly have been other than eventful; +but incidents, or bits of life, are like living forms--it is only here +and here, as by rare chance, that one of them gets arrested and +fossilised; the greater number disappear like the greater number of +antediluvian molluscs, and no one can say why one of these flies, as it +were, of life should get preserved in amber more than another. Talk, +indeed, about luck and cunning; what a grain of sand as against a +hundredweight is cunning's share here as against luck's. What moment +could be more humdrum and unworthy of special record than the one chosen +by the artist for the chapel we are considering? Why should this one get +arrested in its flight and made immortal when so many worthier ones have +perished? Yet preserved it assuredly is; it is as though some fairy's +wand had struck the medieval Miss Pinkerton, Amelia Sedley, and others +who do duty instead of the Hebrew originals. It has locked them up as +sleeping beauties, whose charms all may look upon. Surely the hours are +like the women grinding at the mill--the one is taken and the other left, +and none can give the reason more than he can say why Gallio should have +won immortality by caring for none of "these things." + +It seems to me, moreover, that fairies have changed their practice now in +the matter of sleeping beauties, much as shopkeepers have done in Regent +Street. Formerly the shopkeeper used to shut up his goods behind strong +shutters, so that no one might see them after closing hours. Now he +leaves everything open to the eye and turns the gas on. So the fairies, +who used to lock up their sleeping beauties in impenetrable thickets, now +leave them in the most public places they can find, as knowing that they +will there most certainly escape notice. Look at De Hooghe; look at "The +Pilgrim's Progress," or even Shakespeare himself--how long they slept +unawakened, though they were in broad daylight and on the public +thoroughfares all the time. Look at Tabachetti, and the masterpieces he +left at Varallo. His figures there are exposed to the gaze of every +passer-by; yet who heeds them? Who, save a very few, even know of their +existence? Look again at Gaudenzio Ferrari, or the "Danse des Paysans," +by Holbein, to which I ventured to call attention in the _Universal +Review_. No, no; if a thing be in Central Africa, it is the glory of +this age to find it out; so the fairies think it safer to conceal their +_proteges_ under a show of openness; for the schoolmaster is much abroad, +and there is no hedge so thick or so thorny as the dulness of culture. + +It may be, again, that ever so many years hence, when Mr. Darwin's earth- +worms shall have buried Oropa hundreds of feet deep, some one sinking a +well or making a railway-cutting will unearth these chapels, and will +believe them to have been houses, and to contain the _exuviae_ of the +living forms that tenanted them. In the meantime, however, let us return +to a consideration of the chapel as it may now be seen by any one who +cares to pass that way. + +The work consists of about forty figures in all, not counting Cupids, and +is divided into four main divisions. First, there is the large public +sitting-room or drawing-room of the College, where the elder young ladies +are engaged in various elegant employments. Three, at a table to the +left, are making a mitre for the Bishop, as may be seen from the model on +the table. Some are merely spinning or about to spin. One young lady, +sitting rather apart from the others, is doing an elaborate piece of +needlework at a tambour-frame near the window; others are making lace or +slippers, probably for the new curate; another is struggling with a +letter, or perhaps a theme, which seems to be giving her a good deal of +trouble, but which, when done, will, I am sure, be beautiful. One dear +little girl is simply reading "Paul and Virginia" underneath the window, +and is so concealed that I hardly think she can be seen from the outside +at all, though from inside she is delightful; it was with great regret +that I could not get her into any photograph. One most amiable young +woman has got a child's head on her lap, the child having played itself +to sleep. All are industriously and agreeably employed in some way or +other; all are plump; all are nice looking; there is not one Becky Sharp +in the whole school; on the contrary, as in "Pious Orgies," all is +pious--or sub-pious--and all, if not great, is at least eminently +respectable. One feels that St. Joachim and St. Anne could not have +chosen a school more judiciously, and that if one had daughter oneself +this is exactly where one would wish to place her. If there is a fault +of any kind in the arrangements, it is that they do not keep cats enough. +The place is overrun with mice, though what these can find to eat I know +not. It occurs to me also that the young ladies might be kept a little +more free of spiders' webs; but in all these chapels, bats, mice and +spiders are troublesome. + +Off the main drawing-room on the side facing the window there is a dais, +which is approached by a large raised semicircular step, higher than the +rest of the floor, but lower than the dais itself. The dais is, of +course, reserved for the venerable Lady Principal and the +under-mistresses, one of whom, by the way, is a little more _mondaine_ +than might have been expected, and is admiring herself in a +looking-glass--unless, indeed, she is only looking to see if there is a +spot of ink on her face. The Lady Principal is seated near a table, on +which lie some books in expensive bindings, which I imagine to have been +presented to her by the parents of pupils who were leaving school. One +has given her a photographic album; another a large scrap-book, for +illustrations of all kinds; a third volume has red edges, and is +presumably of a devotional character. If I dared venture another +criticism, I should say it would be better not to keep the ink-pot on the +top of these books. The Lady Principal is being read to by the monitress +for the week, whose duty it was to recite selected passages from the most +approved Hebrew writers; she appears to be a good deal outraged, possibly +at the faulty intonation of the reader, which she has long tried vainly +to correct; or perhaps she has been hearing of the atrocious way in which +her forefathers had treated the prophets, and is explaining to the young +ladies how impossible it would be, in their own more enlightened age, for +a prophet to fail of recognition. + +On the half-dais, as I suppose the large semicircular step between the +main room and the dais should be called, we find, first, the monitress +for the week, who stands up while she recites; and secondly, the Virgin +herself, who is the only pupil allowed a seat so near to the august +presence of the Lady Principal. She is ostensibly doing a piece of +embroidery which is stretched on a cushion on her lap, but I should say +that she was chiefly interested in the nearest of four pretty little +Cupids, who are all trying to attract her attention, though they pay no +court to any other young lady. I have sometimes wondered whether the +obviously scandalised gesture of the Lady Principal might not be directed +at these Cupids, rather than at anything the monitress may have been +reading, for she would surely find them disquieting. Or she may be +saying, "Why, bless me! I do declare the Virgin has got another hamper, +and St. Anne's cakes are always so terribly rich!" Certainly the hamper +is there, close to the Virgin, and the Lady Principal's action may be +well directed at it, but it may have been sent to some other young lady, +and be put on the sub-dais for public exhibition. It looks as if it +might have come from Fortnum and Mason's, and I half expected to find a +label, addressing it to "The Virgin Mary, Temple College, Jerusalem," but +if ever there was one the mice have long since eaten it. The Virgin +herself does not seem to care much about it, but if she has a fault it is +that she is generally a little apathetic. + +Whose the hamper was, however, is a point we shall never now certainly +determine, for the best fossil is worse than the worst living form. Why, +alas! was not Mr. Edison alive when this chapel was made? We might then +have had a daily phonographic recital of the conversation, and an +announcement might be put outside the chapels, telling us at what hours +the figures would speak. + +On either of side the main room there are two annexes opening out from +it; these are reserved chiefly for the younger children, some of whom, I +think, are little boys. In the left-hand annex, behind the ladies who +are making a mitre, there is a child who has got a cake, and another has +some fruit--possibly given them by the Virgin--and a third child is +begging for some of it. The light failed so completely here that I was +not able to photograph any of these figures. It was a dull September +afternoon, and the clouds had settled thick round the chapel, which is +never very light, and is nearly 4000 feet above the sea. I waited till +such twilight as made it hopeless that more detail could be got--and a +queer ghostly place enough it was to wait in--but after giving the plate +an exposure of fifty minutes, I saw I could get no more, and desisted. + +These long photographic exposures have the advantage that one is +compelled to study a work in detail through mere lack of other +employment, and that one can take one's notes in peace without being +tempted to hurry over them; but even so I continually find I have omitted +to note, and have clean forgotten, much that I want later on. + +In the other annex there are also one or two younger children, but it +seems to have been set apart for conversation and relaxation more than +any other part of the establishment. + +I have already said that the work is signed by an inscription inside the +chapel, to the effect that the sculptures are by Pietro Aureggio Termine +di Biella. It will be seen that the young ladies are exceedingly like +one another, and that the artist aimed at nothing more than a faithful +rendering of the life of his own times. Let us be thankful that he aimed +at nothing less. Perhaps his wife kept a girls' school; or he may have +had a large family of fat, good-natured daughters, whose little ways he +had studied attentively; at all events the work is full of spontaneous +incident, and cannot fail to become more and more interesting as the age +it renders falls farther back into the past. It is to be regretted that +many artists, better known men, have not been satisfied with the humbler +ambitions of this most amiable and interesting sculptor. If he has left +us no laboured life-studies, he has at least done something for us which +we can find nowhere else, which we should be very sorry not to have, and +the fidelity of which to Italian life at the beginning of the last +century will not be disputed. + +The eighth chapel is that of the _Sposalizio_, is certainly not by +Aureggio, and I should say was mainly by the same sculptor who did the +Presentation in the Temple. On going inside I found the figures had come +from more than one source; some of them are constructed so absolutely on +Valsesian principles, as regards technique, that it may be assumed they +came from Varallo. Each of these last figures is in three pieces, that +are baked separately and cemented together afterwards, hence they are +more easily transported; no more clay is used than is absolutely +necessary; and the off-side of the figure is neglected; they will be +found chiefly, if not entirely, at the top of the steps. The other +figures are more solidly built, and do not remind me in their business +features of anything in the Valsesia. There was a sculptor, Francesco +Sala, of Locarno (doubtless the village a short distance below Varallo, +and not the Locarno on the Lago Maggiore), who made designs for some of +the Oropa chapels, and some of whose letters are still preserved, but +whether the Valsesian figures in this present work are by him or not I +cannot say. + +The statues are twenty-five in number; I could find no date or signature; +the work reminds me of Montrigone; several of the figures are not at all +bad, and several have horsehair for hair, as at Varallo. The effect of +the whole composition is better than we have a right to expect from any +sculpture dating from the beginning of the last century. + +The ninth chapel, the Annunciation, presents no feature of interest; nor +yet does the tenth, the Visit of Mary to Elizabeth. The eleventh, the +Nativity, though rather better, is still not remarkable. + +The twelfth, the Purification, is absurdly bad, but I do not know whether +the expression of strong personal dislike to the Virgin which the High +Priest wears is intended as prophetic, or whether it is the result of +incompetence, or whether it is merely a smile gone wrong in the baking. +It is amusing to find Marocco, who has not been strict about +archaeological accuracy hitherto, complain here that there is an +anachronism, inasmuch as some young ecclesiastics are dressed as they +would be at present, and one of them actually carries a wax candle. This +is not as it should be; in works like those at Oropa, where implicit +reliance is justly placed on the earnest endeavours that have been so +successfully made to thoroughly and carefully and patiently ensure the +accuracy of the minutest details, it is a pity that even a single error +should have escaped detection; this, however, has most unfortunately +happened here, and Marocco feels it his duty to put us on our guard. He +explains that the mistake arose from the sculptor's having taken both his +general arrangement and his details from some picture of the fourteenth +or fifteenth century, when the value of the strictest historical accuracy +was not yet so fully understood. + +It seems to me that in the matter of accuracy, priests and men of science +whether lay or regular on the one hand, and plain people whether lay or +regular on the other, are trying to play a different game, and fail to +understand one another because they do not see that their objects are not +the same. The cleric and the man of science (who is only the cleric in +his latest development) are trying to develop a throat with two distinct +passages--one that shall refuse to pass even the smallest gnat, and +another that shall gracefully gulp even the largest camel; whereas we men +of the street desire but one throat, and are content that this shall +swallow nothing bigger than a pony. Every one knows that there is no +such effectual means of developing the power to swallow camels as +incessant watchfulness for opportunities of straining at gnats, and this +should explain many passages that puzzle us in the work both of our +clerics and our scientists. I, not being a man of science, still +continue to do what I said I did in "Alps and Sanctuaries," and make it a +rule to earnestly and patiently and carefully swallow a few of the +smallest gnats I can find several times a day, as the best astringent for +the throat I know of. + +The thirteenth chapel is the Marriage Feast at Cana of Galilee. This is +the best chapel as a work of art; indeed, it is the only one which can +claim to be taken quite seriously. Not that all the figures are very +good; those to the left of the composition are commonplace enough; nor +are the Christ and the giver of the feast at all remarkable; but the ten +or dozen figures of guests and attendants at the right-hand end of the +work are as good as anything of their kind can be, and remind me so +strongly of Tabachetti that I cannot doubt they were done by some one who +was indirectly influenced by that great sculptor's work. It is not +likely that Tabachetti was alive long after 1640, by which time he would +have been about eighty years old; and the foundations of this chapel were +not laid till about 1690; the statues are probably a few years later; +they can hardly, therefore, be by one who had even studied under +Tabachetti; but until I found out the dates, and went inside the chapel +to see the way in which the figures had been constructed, I was inclined +to think they might be by Tabachetti himself, of whom, indeed, they are +not unworthy. On examining the figures I found them more heavily +constructed than Tabachetti's are, with smaller holes for taking out +superfluous clay, and more finished on the off-sides. Marocco says the +sculptor is not known. I looked in vain for any date or signature. +Possibly the right-hand figures (for the left-hand ones can hardly be by +the same hand) may be by some sculptor from Crea, which is at no very +great distance from Oropa, who was penetrated by Tabachetti's influence; +but whether as regards action and concert with one another, or as regards +excellence in detail, I do not see how anything can be more realistic, +and yet more harmoniously composed. The placing of the musicians in a +minstrels' gallery helps the effect; these musicians are six in number, +and the other figures are twenty-three. Under the table, between Christ +and the giver of the feast, there is a cat. + +The fourteenth chapel, the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, is without +interest. + +The fifteenth, the Coronation of the Virgin, contains forty-six angels, +twenty-six cherubs, fifty-six saints, the Holy Trinity, the Madonna +herself, and twenty-four innocents, making 156 statues in all. Of these +I am afraid there is not one of more than ordinary merit; the most +interesting is a half-length nude life-study of Disma--the good thief. +After what had been promised him it was impossible to exclude him, but it +was felt that a half-length nude figure would be as much as he could +reasonably expect. + +Behind the sanctuary there is a semi-ruinous and wholly valueless work, +which shows the finding of the black image, which is now in the church, +but is only shown on great festivals. + +This leads us to a consideration that I have delayed till now. The black +image is the central feature of Oropa; it is the _raison d'etre_ of the +whole place, and all else is a mere incrustation, so to speak, around it. +According to this image, then, which was carved by St. Luke himself, and +than which nothing can be better authenticated, both the Madonna and the +infant Christ were as black as anything can be conceived. It is not +likely that they were as black as they have been painted; no one yet ever +was so black as that; yet, even allowing for some exaggeration on St. +Luke's part, they must have been exceedingly black if the portrait is to +be accepted; and uncompromisingly black they accordingly are on most of +the wayside chapels for many a mile around Oropa. Yet in the chapels we +have been hitherto considering--works in which, as we know, the most +punctilious regard has been shown to accuracy--both the Virgin and Christ +are uncompromisingly white. As in the shops under the Colonnade where +devotional knick-knacks are sold, you can buy a black china image or a +white one, whichever you like; so with the pictures--the black and white +are placed side by side--_pagando il danaro si puo scegliere_. It rests +not with history or with the Church to say whether the Madonna and Child +were black or white, but you may settle it for yourself, whichever way +you please, or rather you are required, with the acquiescence of the +Church, to hold that they were both black and white at one and the same +time. + +It cannot be maintained that the Church leaves the matter undecided, and +by tolerating both types proclaims the question an open one, for she +acquiesces in the portrait by St. Luke as genuine. How, then, justify +the whiteness of the Holy Family in the chapels? If the portrait is not +known as genuine, why set such a stumbling-block in our paths as to show +us a black Madonna and a white one, both as historically accurate, within +a few yards of one another? + +I ask this not in mockery, but as knowing that the Church must have an +explanation to give, if she would only give it, and as myself unable to +find any, even the most farfetched, that can bring what we see at Oropa, +Loreto and elsewhere into harmony with modern conscience, either +intellectual or ethical. + +I see, indeed, from an interesting article in the _Atlantic Monthly_ for +September 1889, entitled "The Black Madonna of Loreto," that black +Madonnas were so frequent in ancient Christian art that "some of the +early writers of the Church felt obliged to account for it by explaining +that the Virgin was of a very dark complexion, as might be proved by the +verse of Canticles which says, 'I am black, but comely, O ye daughters of +Jerusalem.' Others maintained that she became black during her sojourn +in Egypt. . . . Priests, of to-day, say that extreme age and exposure to +the smoke of countless altar-candles have caused that change in +complexion which the more naive fathers of the Church attributed to the +power of an Egyptian sun"; but the writer ruthlessly disposes of this +supposition by pointing out that in nearly all the instances of black +Madonnas it is the flesh alone that is entirely black, the crimson of the +lips, the white of the eyes, and the draperies having preserved their +original colour. The authoress of the article (Mrs. Hilliard) goes on to +tell us that Pausanias mentions two statues of the black Venus, and says +that the oldest statue of Ceres among the Phigalenses was black. She +adds that Minerva Aglaurus, the daughter of Cecrops, at Athens, was +black; that Corinth had a black Venus, as also the Thespians; that the +oracles of Dodona and Delphi were founded by black doves, the emissaries +of Venus, and that the Isis Multimammia in the Capitol at Rome is black. + +Sometimes I have asked myself whether the Church does not intend to +suggest that the whole story falls outside the domain of history, and is +to be held as the one great epos, or myth, common to all mankind; +adaptable by each nation according to its own several needs; +translatable, so to speak, into the facts of each individual nation, as +the written word is translatable into its language, but appertaining to +the realm of the imagination rather than to that of the understanding, +and precious for spiritual rather than literal truths. More briefly, I +have wondered whether she may not intend that such details as whether the +Virgin was white or black are of very little importance in comparison +with the basing of ethics on a story that shall appeal to black races as +well as to white ones. + +If so, it is time we were made to understand this more clearly. If the +Church, whether of Rome or England, would lean to some such view as +this--tainted though it be with mysticism--if we could see either great +branch of the Church make a frank, authoritative attempt to bring its +teaching into greater harmony with the educated understanding and +conscience of the time, instead of trying to fetter that understanding +with bonds that gall it daily more and more profoundly; then I, for one, +in view of the difficulty and graciousness of the task, and in view of +the great importance of historical continuity, would gladly sink much of +my own private opinion as to the value of the Christian ideal, and would +gratefully help either Church or both, according to the best of my very +feeble ability. On these terms, indeed, I could swallow not a few camels +myself cheerfully enough. + +Can we, however, see any signs as though either Rome or England will stir +hand or foot to meet us? Can any step be pointed to as though either +Church wished to make things easier for men holding the opinions held by +the late Mr. Darwin, or by Mr. Herbert Spencer and Professor Huxley? How +can those who accept evolution with any thoroughness accept such +doctrines as the Incarnation or the Redemption with any but a +quasi-allegorical and poetical interpretation? Can we conceivably accept +these doctrines in the literal sense in which the Church advances them? +And can the leaders of the Church be blind to the resistlessness of the +current that has set against those literal interpretations which she +seems to hug more and more closely the more religious life is awakened at +all? The clergyman is wanted as supplementing the doctor and the lawyer +in all civilised communities; these three keep watch on one another, and +prevent one another from becoming too powerful. I, who distrust the +_doctrinaire_ in science even more than the _doctrinaire_ in religion, +should view with dismay the abolition of the Church of England, as +knowing that a blatant bastard science would instantly step into her +shoes; but if some such deplorable consummation is to be avoided in +England, it can only be through more evident leaning on the part of our +clergy to such an interpretation of the Sacred History as the presence of +a black and white Madonna almost side by side at Oropa appears to +suggest. + +I fear that in these last paragraphs I may have trenched on dangerous +ground, but it is not possible to go to such places as Oropa without +asking oneself what they mean and involve. As for the average Italian +pilgrims, they do not appear to give the matter so much as a thought. +They love Oropa, and flock to it in thousands during the summer; the +President of the Administration assured me that they lodged, after a +fashion, as many as ten thousand pilgrims on the 15th of last August. It +is astonishing how living the statues are to these people, and how the +wicked are upbraided and the good applauded. At Varallo, since I took +the photographs I published in my book "Ex Voto," an angry pilgrim has +smashed the nose of the dwarf in Tabachetti's Journey to Calvary, for no +other reason than inability to restrain his indignation against one who +was helping to inflict pain on Christ. It is the real hair and the +painting up to nature that does this. Here at Oropa I found a paper on +the floor of the _Sposalizio_ Chapel, which ran as follows:-- + +"By the grace of God and the will of the administrative chapter of this +sanctuary, there have come here to work --- ---, mason --- ---, +carpenter, and --- --- plumber, all of Chiavazza, on the twenty-first day +of January 1886, full of cold (_pieni di freddo_). + +"They write these two lines to record their visit. They pray the Blessed +Virgin that she will maintain them safe and sound from everything +equivocal that may befall them (_sempre sani e salvi da ogni equivoco li +possa accadere_). Oh, farewell! We reverently salute all the present +statues, and especially the Blessed Virgin, and the reader." + +Through the _Universal Review_, I suppose, all its readers are to +consider themselves saluted; at any rate, these good fellows, in the +effusiveness of their hearts, actually wrote the above in pencil. I was +sorely tempted to steal it, but, after copying it, left it in the Chief +Priest's hands instead. + + + + +ART IN THE VALLEY OF SAAS {11} + + +Having been told by Mr. Fortescue, of the British Museum, that there were +some chapels at Saas-Fee which bore analogy to those at Varallo, +described in my book "Ex Voto," {12} I went to Saas during this last +summer, and venture now to lay my conclusions before the reader. + +The chapels are fifteen in number, and lead up to a larger and singularly +graceful one, rather more than half-way between Saas and Saas-Fee. This +is commonly but wrongly called the chapel of St. Joseph, for it is +dedicated to the Virgin, and its situation is of such extreme beauty--the +great Fee glaciers showing through the open portico--that it is in itself +worth a pilgrimage. It is surrounded by noble larches and overhung by +rock; in front of the portico there is a small open space covered with +grass, and a huge larch, the stem of which is girt by a rude stone seat. +The portico itself contains seats for worshippers, and a pulpit from +which the preacher's voice can reach the many who must stand outside. The +walls of the inner chapel are hung with votive pictures, some of them +very quaint and pleasing, and not overweighted by those qualities that +are usually dubbed by the name of artistic merit. Innumerable wooden and +waxen representations of arms, legs, eyes, ears and babies tell of the +cures that have been effected during two centuries of devotion, and can +hardly fail to awaken a kindly sympathy with the long dead and forgotten +folks who placed them where they are. + +The main interest, however, despite the extreme loveliness of the St. +Mary's Chapel, centres rather in the small and outwardly unimportant +oratories (if they should be so called) that lead up to it. These begin +immediately with the ascent from the level ground on which the village of +Saas-im-Grund is placed, and contain scenes in the history of the +Redemption, represented by rude but spirited wooden figures, each about +two feet high, painted, gilt, and rendered as life-like in all respects +as circumstances would permit. The figures have suffered a good deal +from neglect, and are still not a little misplaced. With the assistance, +however, of the Rev. E. J. Selwyn, English Chaplain at Saas-im-Grund, I +have been able to replace many of them in their original positions, as +indicated by the parts of the figures that are left rough-hewn and +unpainted. They vary a good deal in interest, and can be easily sneered +at by those who make a trade of sneering. Those, on the other hand, who +remain unsophisticated by overmuch art-culture will find them full of +character in spite of not a little rudeness of execution, and will be +surprised at coming across such works in a place so remote from any art- +centre as Saas must have been at the time these chapels were made. It +will be my business therefore to throw what light I can upon the +questions how they came to be made at all, and who was the artist who +designed them. + +The only documentary evidence consists in a chronicle of the valley of +Saas written in the early years of this century by the Rev. Peter Jos. +Ruppen, and published at Sion in 1851. This work makes frequent +reference to a manuscript by the Rev. Peter Joseph Clemens Lommatter, +_cure_ of Saas-Fee from 1738 to 1751, which has unfortunately been lost, +so that we have no means of knowing how closely it was adhered to. The +Rev. Jos. Ant. Ruppen, the present excellent _cure_ of Saas-im-Grund, +assures me that there is no reference to the Saas-Fee oratories in the +"Actes de l'Eglise" at Saas, which I understand go a long way back; but I +have not seen these myself. Practically, then, we have no more +documentary evidence than is to be found in the published chronicle above +referred to. + +We there find it stated that the large chapel, commonly, but as above +explained, wrongly called St. Joseph's, was built in 1687, and enlarged +by subscription in 1747. These dates appear on the building itself, and +are no doubt accurate. The writer adds that there was no actual edifice +on this site before the one now existing was built, but there was a +miraculous picture of the Virgin placed in a mural niche, before which +the pious herdsmen and devout inhabitants of the valley worshipped under +the vault of heaven. {13} A miraculous (or miracle-working) picture was +always more or less rare and important; the present site, therefore, +seems to have been long one of peculiar sanctity. Possibly the name Fee +may point to still earlier Pagan mysteries on the same site. + +As regards the fifteen small chapels, the writer says they illustrate the +fifteen mysteries of the Psalter, and were built in 1709, each +householder of the Saas-Fee contributing one chapel. He adds that +Heinrich Andenmatten, afterwards a brother of the Society of Jesus, was +an especial benefactor or promoter of the undertaking. One of the +chapels, the Ascension (No. 12 of the series), has the date 1709 painted +on it; but there is no date on any other chapel, and there seems no +reason why this should be taken as governing the whole series. + +Over and above this, there exists in Saas a tradition, as I was told +immediately on my arrival, by an English visitor, that the chapels were +built in consequence of a flood, but I have vainly endeavoured to trace +this story to an indigenous source. + +The internal evidence of the wooden figures themselves--nothing analogous +to which, it should be remembered, can be found in the chapel of +1687--points to a much earlier date. I have met with no school of +sculpture belonging to the early part of the eighteenth century to which +they can be plausibly assigned; and the supposition that they are the +work of some unknown local genius who was not led up to and left no +successors may be dismissed, for the work is too scholarly to have come +from any one but a trained sculptor. I refer of course to those figures +which the artist must be supposed to have executed with his own hand, as, +for example, the central figure of the Crucifixion group and those of the +Magdalene and St. John. The greater number of the figures were probably, +as was suggested to me by Mr. Ranshaw, of Lowth, executed by a local +woodcarver from models in clay and wax furnished by the artist himself. +Those who examine the play of line in the hair, mantle, and sleeve of the +Magdalene in the Crucifixion group, and contrast it with the greater part +of the remaining draperies, will find little hesitation in concluding +that this was the case, and will ere long readily distinguish the two +hands from which the figures have mainly come. I say "mainly," because +there is at least one other sculptor who may well have belonged to the +year 1709, but who fortunately has left us little. Examples of his work +may perhaps be seen in the nearest villain with a big hat in the +Flagellation chapel, and in two cherubs in the Assumption of the Virgin. + +We may say, then, with some certainty, that the designer was a cultivated +and practised artist. We may also not less certainly conclude that he +was of Flemish origin, for the horses in the Journey to Calvary and +Crucifixion chapels, where alone there are any horses at all, are of +Flemish breed, with no trace of the Arab blood adopted by Gaudenzio at +Varallo. The character, moreover, of the villains is Northern--of the +Quentin Matsys, Martin Schongauer type, rather than Italian; the same sub- +Rubensesque feeling which is apparent in more than one chapel at Varallo +is not less evident here--especially in the Journey to Calvary and +Crucifixion chapels. There can hardly, therefore, be a doubt that the +artist was a Fleming who had worked for several years in Italy. + +It is also evident that he had Tabachetti's work at Varallo well in his +mind. For not only does he adopt certain details of costume (I refer +particularly to the treatment of soldiers' tunics) which are peculiar to +Tabachetti at Varallo, but whenever he treats a subject which Tabachetti +had treated at Varallo, as in the Flagellation, Crowning with Thorns, and +Journey to Calvary chapels, the work at Saas is evidently nothing but a +somewhat modified abridgement of that at Varallo. When, however, as in +the Annunciation, the Nativity, the Crucifixion, and other chapels, the +work at Varallo is by another than Tabachetti, no allusion is made to it. +The Saas artist has Tabachetti's Varallo work at his finger-ends, but +betrays no acquaintance whatever with Gaudenzio Ferrari, Gio. Ant. +Paracca, or Giovanni D'Enrico. + +Even, moreover, when Tabachetti's work at Varallo is being most obviously +drawn from, as in the Journey to Calvary chapel, the Saas version differs +materially from that at Varallo, and is in some respects an improvement +on it. The idea of showing other horsemen and followers coming up from +behind, whose heads can be seen over the crown of the interposing hill, +is singularly effective as suggesting a number of others that are unseen, +nor can I conceive that any one but the original designer would follow +Tabachetti's Varallo design with as much closeness as it has been +followed here, and yet make such a brilliantly successful modification. +The stumbling, again, of one horse (a detail almost hidden, according to +Tabachetti's wont) is a touch which Tabachetti himself might add, but +which no Saas woodcarver who was merely adapting from a reminiscence of +Tabachetti's Varallo chapel would be likely to introduce. These +considerations have convinced me that the designer of the chapels at Saas +is none other than Tabachetti himself, who, as has been now conclusively +shown, was a native of Dinant, in Belgium. + +The Saas chronicler, indeed, avers that the chapels were not built till +1709--a statement apparently corroborated by a date now visible on one +chapel; but we must remember that the chronicler did not write until a +century or so later than 1709, and though, indeed, his statement may have +been taken from the lost earlier manuscript of 1738, we know nothing +about this either one way or the other. The writer may have gone by the +still existing 1709 on the Ascension chapel, whereas this date may in +fact have referred to a restoration, and not to an original construction. +There is nothing, as I have said, in the choice of the chapel on which +the date appears, to suggest that it was intended to govern the others. I +have explained that the work is isolated and exotic. It is by one in +whom Flemish and Italian influences are alike equally predominant; by one +who was saturated with Tabachetti's Varallo work, and who can improve +upon it, but over whom the other Varallo sculptors have no power. The +style of the work is of the sixteenth and not of the eighteenth +century--with a few obvious exceptions that suit the year 1709 +exceedingly well. Against such considerations as these, a statement made +at the beginning of this century referring to a century earlier, and a +promiscuous date upon one chapel, can carry but little weight. I shall +assume, therefore, henceforward, that we have here groups designed in a +plastic material by Tabachetti, and reproduced in wood by the best local +wood-sculptor available, with the exception of a few figures cut by the +artist himself. + +We ask, then, at what period in his life did Tabachetti design these +chapels, and what led to his coming to such an out-of-the-way place as +Saas at all? We should remember that, according both to Fassola and +Torrotti (writing in 1671 and 1686 respectively), Tabachetti {14} became +insane about the year 1586 or early in 1587, after having just begun the +Salutation chapel. I have explained in "Ex Voto" that I do not believe +this story. I have no doubt that Tabachetti was declared to be mad, but +I believe this to have been due to an intrigue, set on foot in order to +get a foreign artist out of the way, and to secure the Massacre of the +Innocents chapel, at that precise time undertaken, for Gio. Ant. Paracca, +who was an Italian. + +Or he may have been sacrificed in order to facilitate the return of the +workers in stucco whom he had superseded on the Sacro Monte. He may have +been goaded into some imprudence which was seized upon as a pretext for +shutting him up; at any rate, the fact that when in 1587 he inherited his +father's property at Dinant, his trustee (he being expressly stated to be +"_expatrie_") was "_datif_," "_dativus_," appointed not by himself but by +the court, lends colour to the statement that he was not his own master +at the time; for in later kindred deeds, now at Namur, he appoints his +own trustee. I suppose, then, that Tabachetti was shut up in a madhouse +at Varallo for a considerable time, during which I can find no trace of +him, but that eventually he escaped or was released. + +Whether he was a fugitive, or whether he was let out from prison, he +would in either case, in all reasonable probability, turn his face +homeward. If he was escaping, he would make immediately for the Savoy +frontier, within which Saas then lay. He would cross the Baranca above +Fobello, coming down on to Ponte Grande in the Val Anzasca. He would go +up the Val Anzasca to Macugnaga, and over the Monte Moro, which would +bring him immediately to Saas. Saas, therefore, is the nearest and most +natural place for him to make for, if he were flying from Varallo, and +here I suppose him to have halted. + +It so happened that on the 9th of September, 1589, there was one of the +three great outbreaks of the Mattmark See that have from time to time +devastated the valley of Saas. {15} It is probable that the chapels were +decided upon in consequence of some grace shown by the miraculous picture +of the Virgin, which had mitigated a disaster occurring so soon after the +anniversary of her own Nativity. Tabachetti, arriving at this juncture, +may have offered to undertake them if the Saas people would give him an +asylum. Here, at any rate, I suppose him to have stayed till some time +in 1590, probably the second half of it, his design of eventually +returning home, if he ever entertained it, being then interrupted by a +summons to Crea near Casale, where I believe him to have worked with a +few brief interruptions thenceforward for little if at all short of half +a century, or until about the year 1640. I admit, however, that the +evidence for assigning him so long a life rests solely on the supposed +identity of the figure known as "Il Vecchietto," in the Varallo Descent +from the Cross chapel, with the portrait of Tabachetti himself in the +Ecce Homo chapel, also at Varallo. + +I find additional reason for thinking the chapels owe their origin to the +inundation of September 9, 1589, in the fact that the 8th of September is +made a day of pilgrimage to the Saas-Fee chapels throughout the whole +valley of Saas. It is true the 8th of September is the festival of the +Nativity of the Virgin Mary, so that under any circumstances this would +be a great day, but the fact that not only the people of Saas, but the +whole valley down to Visp, flock to this chapel on the 8th of September, +points to the belief that some special act of grace on the part of the +Virgin was vouchsafed on this day in connection with this chapel. A +belief that it was owing to the intervention of St. Mary of Fee that the +inundation was not attended with loss of life would be very likely to +lead to the foundation of a series of chapels leading up to the place +where her miraculous picture was placed, and to the more special +celebration of her Nativity in connection with this spot throughout the +valley of Saas. I have discussed the subject with the Rev. Jos. Ant. +Ruppen, and he told me he thought the fact that the great _fete_ of the +year in connection with the Saas-Fee chapels was on the 8th of September +pointed rather strongly to the supposition that there was a connection +between these and the recorded flood of September 9, 1589. + +Turning to the individual chapels they are as follows:-- + +1. The Annunciation. The treatment here presents no more analogy to +that of the same subject at Varallo than is inevitable in the nature of +the subject. The Annunciation figures at Varallo have proved to be mere +draped dummies with wooden heads; Tabachetti, even though he did the +heads, which he very likely did, would take no interest in the Varallo +work with the same subject. The Annunciation, from its very simplicity +as well as from the transcendental nature of the subject, is singularly +hard to treat, and the work here, whatever it may once have been, is now +no longer remarkable. + +2. The Salutation of Mary by Elizabeth. This group, again, bears no +analogy to the Salutation chapel at Varallo, in which Tabachetti's share +was so small that it cannot be considered as in any way his. It is not +to be expected, therefore, that the Saas chapel should follow the Varallo +one. The figures, four in number, are pleasing and well arranged. St. +Joseph, St. Elizabeth, and St. Zacharias are all talking at once. The +Virgin is alone silent. + +3. The Nativity is much damaged and hard to see. The treatment bears no +analogy to that adopted by Gaudenzio Ferrari at Varallo. There is one +pleasing young shepherd standing against the wall, but some figures have +no doubt (as in others of the chapels) disappeared, and those that remain +have been so shifted from their original positions that very little idea +can be formed of what the group was like when Tabachetti left it. + +4. The Purification. I can hardly say why this chapel should remind me, +as it does, of the Circumcision chapel at Varallo, for there are more +figures here than space at Varallo will allow. It cannot be pretended +that any single figure is of extraordinary merit, but amongst them they +tell their story with excellent effect. Two, those of St. Joseph and St. +Anna (?), that doubtless were once more important factors in the drama, +are now so much in corners near the window that they can hardly be seen. + +5. The Dispute in the Temple. This subject is not treated at Varallo. +Here at Saas there are only six doctors now; whether or no there were +originally more cannot be determined. + +6. The Agony in the Garden. Tabachetti had no chapel with this subject +at Varallo, and there is no resemblance between the Saas chapel and that +by D'Enrico. The figures are no doubt approximately in their original +positions, but I have no confidence that I have rearranged them +correctly. They were in such confusion when I first saw them that the +Rev. E. J. Selwyn and myself determined to rearrange them. They have +doubtless been shifted more than once since Tabachetti left them. The +sleeping figures are all good. St. James is perhaps a little prosaic. +One Roman soldier who is coming into the garden with a lantern, and +motioning silence with his hand, does duty for the others that are to +follow him. I should think more than one of these figures is actually +carved in wood by Tabachetti, allowance being made for the fact that he +was working in a material with which he was not familiar, and which no +sculptor of the highest rank has ever found congenial. + +7. The Flagellation. Tabachetti has a chapel with this subject at +Varallo, and the Saas group is obviously a descent with modification from +his work there. The figure of Christ is so like the one at Varallo that +I think it must have been carved by Tabachetti himself. The man with the +hooked nose, who at Varallo is stooping to bind his rods, is here +upright: it was probably the intention to emphasise him in the succeeding +scenes as well as this, in the same way as he has been emphasised at +Varallo, but his nose got pared down in the cutting of later scenes, and +could not easily be added to. The man binding Christ to the column at +Varallo is repeated (_longo intervallo_) here, and the whole work is one +inspired by that at Varallo, though no single figure except that of the +Christ is adhered to with any very great closeness. I think the nearer +malefactor, with a goitre, and wearing a large black hat, is either an +addition of the year 1709, or was done by the journeyman of the local +sculptor who carved the greater number of the figures. The man stooping +down to bind his rods can hardly be by the same hand as either of the two +black-hatted malefactors, but it is impossible to speak with certainty. +The general effect of the chapel is excellent, if we consider the +material in which it is executed, and the rudeness of the audience to +whom it addresses itself. + +8. The Crowning with Thorns. Here again the inspiration is derived from +Tabachetti's Crowning with Thorns at Varallo. The Christs in the two +chapels are strikingly alike, and the general effect is that of a +residuary impression left in the mind of one who had known the Varallo +Flagellation exceedingly well. + +9. Sta. Veronica. This and the next succeeding chapels are the most +important of the series. Tabachetti's Journey to Calvary at Varallo is +again the source from which the present work was taken, but, as I have +already said, it has been modified in reproduction. Mount Calvary is +still shown, as at Varallo, towards the left-hand corner of the work, but +at Saas it is more towards the middle than at Varallo, so that horsemen +and soldiers may be seen coming up behind it--a stroke that deserves the +name of genius none the less for the manifest imperfection with which it +has been carried into execution. There are only three horses fully +shown, and one partly shown. They are all of the heavy Flemish type +adopted by Tabachetti at Varallo. The man kicking the fallen Christ and +the goitred man (with the same teeth missing), who are so conspicuous in +the Varallo Journey to Calvary, reappear here, only the kicking man has +much less nose than at Varallo, probably because (as explained) the nose +got whittled away and could not be whittled back again. I observe that +the kind of lapelled tunic which Tabachetti, and only Tabachetti, adopts +at Varallo, is adopted for the centurion in this chapel, and indeed +throughout the Saas chapels this particular form of tunic is the most +usual for a Roman soldier. The work is still a very striking one, +notwithstanding its translation into wood and the decay into which it has +been allowed to fall; nor can it fail to impress the visitor who is +familiar with this class of art as coming from a man of extraordinary +dramatic power and command over the almost impossible art of composing +many figures together effectively in all-round sculpture. Whether all +the figures are even now as Tabachetti left them I cannot determine, but +Mr. Selwyn has restored Simon the Cyrenian to the position in which he +obviously ought to stand, and between us we have got the chapel into +something more like order. + +10. The Crucifixion. This subject was treated at Varallo not by +Tabachetti but by Gaudenzio Ferrari. It confirms therefore my opinion as +to the designer of the Saas chapels to find in them no trace of the +Varallo Crucifixion, while the kind of tunic which at Varallo is only +found in chapels wherein Tabachetti worked again appears here. The work +is in a deplorable state of decay. Mr. Selwyn has greatly improved the +arrangement of the figures, but even now they are not, I imagine, quite +as Tabachetti left them. The figure of Christ is greatly better in +technical execution than that of either of the two thieves; the folds of +the drapery alone will show this even to an unpractised eye. I do not +think there can be a doubt but that Tabachetti cut this figure himself, +as also those of the Magdalene and St. John, who stand at the foot of the +cross. The thieves are coarsely executed, with no very obvious +distinction between the penitent and the impenitent one, except that +there is a fiend painted on the ceiling over the impenitent thief. The +one horse introduced into the composition is again of the heavy Flemish +type adopted by Tabachetti at Varallo. There is great difference in the +care with which the folds on the several draperies have been cut, some +being stiff and poor enough, while others are done very sufficiently. In +spite of smallness of scale, ignoble material, disarrangement and decay, +the work is still striking. + +11. The Resurrection. There being no chapel at Varallo with any of the +remaining subjects treated at Saas, the sculptor has struck out a line +for himself. The Christ in the Resurrection Chapel is a carefully +modelled figure, and if better painted might not be ineffective. Three +soldiers, one sleeping, alone remain. There were probably other figures +that have been lost. The sleeping soldier is very pleasing. + +12. The Ascension is not remarkably interesting; the Christ appears to +be, but perhaps is not, a much more modern figure than the rest. + +18. The Descent of the Holy Ghost. Some of the figures along the end +wall are very good, and were, I should imagine, cut by Tabachetti +himself. Those against the two side walls are not so well cut. + +14. The Assumption of the Virgin Mary. The two large cherubs here are +obviously by a later hand, and the small ones are not good. The figure +of the Virgin herself is unexceptionable. There were doubtless once +other figures of the Apostles which have disappeared; of these a single +St. Peter (?), so hidden away in a corner near the window that it can +only be seen with difficulty, is the sole survivor. + +15. The Coronation of the Virgin is of later date, and has probably +superseded an earlier work. It can hardly be by the designer of the +other chapels of the series. Perhaps Tabachetti had to leave for Crea +before all the chapels at Saas were finished. + +Lastly, we have the larger chapel dedicated to St. Mary, which crowns the +series. Here there is nothing of more than common artistic interest, +unless we except the stone altar mentioned in Ruppen's chronicle. This +is of course classical in style, and is, I should think, very good. + +Once more I must caution the reader against expecting to find +highly-finished gems of art in the chapels I have been describing. A +wooden figure not more than two feet high clogged with many coats of +paint can hardly claim to be taken very seriously, and even those few +that were cut by Tabachetti himself were not meant to have attention +concentrated on themselves alone. As mere wood-carving the Saas-Fee +chapels will not stand comparison, for example, with the triptych of +unknown authorship in the Church of St. Anne at Gliss, close to Brieg. +But, in the first place, the work at Gliss is worthy of Holbein himself: +I know no wood-carving that can so rivet the attention; moreover it is +coloured with water-colour and not oil, so that it is tinted, not +painted; and, in the second place, the Gliss triptych belongs to a date +(1519) when artists held neither time nor impressionism as objects, and +hence, though greatly better than the Saas-Fee chapels as regards a +certain Japanese curiousness of finish and _naivete_ of literal +transcription, it cannot even enter the lists with the Saas work as +regards _elan_ and dramatic effectiveness. The difference between the +two classes of work is much that between, say, John Van Eyck or Memling +and Rubens or Rembrandt, or, again, between Giovanni Bellini and +Tintoretto; the aims of the one class of work are incompatible with those +of the other. Moreover, in the Gliss triptych the intention of the +designer is carried out (whether by himself or no) with admirable skill; +whereas at Saas the wisdom of the workman is rather of Ober-Ammergau than +of the Egyptians, and the voice of the poet is not a little drowned in +that of his mouthpiece. If, however, the reader will bear in mind these +somewhat obvious considerations, and will also remember the pathetic +circumstances under which the chapels were designed--for Tabachetti when +he reached Saas was no doubt shattered in body and mind by his four +years' imprisonment--he will probably be not less attracted to them than +I observed were many of the visitors both at Saas-Grund and Saas-Fee with +whom I had the pleasure of examining them. + +I will now run briefly through the other principal works in the +neighbourhood to which I think the reader would be glad to have his +attention directed. + +At Saas-Fee itself the main altar-piece is without interest, as also one +with a figure of St. Sebastian. The Virgin and Child above the remaining +altar are, so far as I remember them, very good, and greatly superior to +the smaller figures of the same altar-piece. + +At Almagel, an hour's walk or so above Saas-Grund--a village, the name of +which, like those of the Alphubel, the Monte Moro, and more than one +other neighbouring site, is supposed to be of Saracenic origin--the main +altar-piece represents a female saint with folded arms being beheaded by +a vigorous man to the left. These two figures are very good. There are +two somewhat inferior elders to the right, and the composition is crowned +by the Assumption of the Virgin. I like the work, but have no idea who +did it. Two bishops flanking the composition are not so good. There are +two other altars in the church: the right-hand one has some pleasing +figures, not so the left-hand. + +In St. Joseph's Chapel, on the mule-road between Saas-Grund and Saas-Fee, +the St. Joseph and the two children are rather nice. In the churches and +chapels which I looked into between Saas and Stalden, I saw many florid +extravagant altar-pieces, but nothing that impressed me favourably. + +In the parish church at Saas-Grund there are two altar-pieces which +deserve attention. In the one over the main altar the arrangement of the +Last Supper in a deep recess half-way up the composition is very pleasing +and effective; in that above the right-hand altar of the two that stand +in the body of the church there are a number of round lunettes, about +eight inches in diameter, each containing a small but spirited group of +wooden figures. I have lost my notes on these altar-pieces and can only +remember that the main one has been restored, and now belongs to two +different dates, the earlier date being, I should imagine, about 1670. A +similar treatment of the Last Supper may be found near Brieg in the +church of Naters, and no doubt the two altar-pieces are by the same man. +There are, by the way, two very ambitious altars on either side the main +arch leading to the chance in the church at Naters, of which the one on +the south side contains obvious reminiscences of Gaudenzio Ferrari's Sta. +Maria frescoes at Varallo; but none of the four altar-pieces in the two +transepts tempted me to give them much attention. As regards the smaller +altar-piece at Saas-Grund, analogous work may be found at Cravagliana, +half-way between Varallo and Fobello, but this last has suffered through +the inveterate habit which Italians have of showing their hatred towards +the enemies of Christ by mutilating the figures that represent them. +Whether the Saas work is by a Valsesian artist who came over to +Switzerland, or whether the Cravagliana work is by a Swiss who had come +to Italy, I cannot say without further consideration and closer +examination than I have been able to give. The altar-pieces of Mairengo, +Chiggiogna, and, I am told, Lavertezzo, all in the Canton Ticino, are by +a Swiss or German artist who has migrated southward; but the reverse +migration was equally common. + +Being in the neighbourhood, and wishing to assure myself whether the +sculptor of the Saas-Fee chapels had or had not come lower down the +valley, I examined every church and village which I could hear of as +containing anything that might throw light on this point. I was thus led +to Vispertimenen, a village some three hours above either Visp or +Stalden. It stands very high, and is an almost untouched example of a +medieval village. The altar-piece of the main church is even more +floridly ambitious in its abundance of carving and gilding than the many +other ambitious altar-pieces with which the Canton Valais abounds. The +Apostles are receiving the Holy Ghost on the first storey of the +composition, and they certainly are receiving it with an overjoyed +alacrity and hilarious ecstasy of _allegria spirituale_ which it would +not be easy to surpass. Above the village, reaching almost to the limits +beyond which there is no cultivation, there stands a series of chapels +like those I have been describing at Saas-Fee, only much larger and more +ambitious. They are twelve in number, including the church that crowns +the series. The figures they contain are of wood (so I was assured, but +I did not go inside the chapels): they are life-size, and in some chapels +there are as many as a dozen figures. I should think they belonged to +the later half of the last century, and here, one would say, sculpture +touches the ground; at least, it is not easy to see how cheap +exaggeration can sink an art more deeply. The only things that at all +pleased me were a smiling donkey and an ecstatic cow in the Nativity +chapel. Those who are not allured by the prospect of seeing perhaps the +very worst that can be done in its own line, need not be at the pains of +climbing up to Vispertimenen. Those, on the other hand, who may find +this sufficient inducement will not be disappointed, and they will enjoy +magnificent views of the Weisshorn and the mountains near the Dom. + +I have already referred to the triptych at Gliss. This is figured in +Wolf's work on Chamonix and the Canton Valais, but a larger and clearer +reproduction of such an extraordinary work is greatly to be desired. The +small wooden statues above the triptych, as also those above its modern +companion in the south transept, are not less admirable than the triptych +itself. I know of no other like work in wood, and have no clue whatever +as to who the author can have been beyond the fact that the work is +purely German and eminently Holbeinesque in character. + +I was told of some chapels at Rarogne, five or six miles lower down the +valley than Visp. I examined them, and found they had been stripped of +their figures. The few that remained satisfied me that we have had no +loss. Above Brieg there are two other like series of chapels. I +examined the higher and more promising of the two, but found not one +single figure left. I was told by my driver that the other series, close +to the Pont Napoleon on the Simplon road, had been also stripped of its +figures, and, there being a heavy storm at the time, have taken his word +for it that this was so. + + + + +THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE {16} + + +Three well-known writers, Professor Max Muller, Professor Mivart, and Mr. +Alfred Russel Wallace have lately maintained that though the theory of +descent with modification accounts for the development of all vegetable +life, and of all animals lower than man, yet that man cannot--not at +least in respect of the whole of his nature--be held to have descended +from any animal lower than himself, inasmuch as none lower than man +possesses even the germs of language. Reason, it is contended--more +especially by Professor Max Muller in his "Science of Thought," to which +I propose confining our attention this evening--is so inseparably +connected with language, that the two are in point of fact identical; +hence it is argued that, as the lower animals have no germs of language, +they can have no germs of reason, and the inference is drawn that man +cannot be conceived as having derived his own reasoning powers and +command of language through descent from beings in which no germ of +either can be found. The relations therefore between thought and +language, interesting in themselves, acquire additional importance from +the fact of their having become the battle-ground between those who say +that the theory of descent breaks down with man, and those who maintain +that we are descended from some ape-like ancestor long since extinct. + +The contention of those who refuse to admit man unreservedly into the +scheme of evolution is comparatively recent. The great propounders of +evolution, Buffon, Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck--not to mention a score of +others who wrote at the close of the last and early part of this present +century--had no qualms about admitting man into their system. They have +been followed in this respect by the late Mr. Charles Darwin, and by the +greatly more influential part of our modern biologists, who hold that +whatever loss of dignity we may incur through being proved to be of +humble origin, is compensated by the credit we may claim for having +advanced ourselves to such a high pitch of civilisation; this bids us +expect still further progress, and glorifies our descendants more than it +abases our ancestors. But to whichever view we may incline on +sentimental grounds the fact remains that, while Charles Darwin declared +language to form no impassable barrier between man and the lower animals, +Professor Max Muller calls it the Rubicon which no brute dare cross, and +deduces hence the conclusion that man cannot have descended from an +unknown but certainly speechless ape. + +It may perhaps be expected that I should begin a lecture on the relations +between thought and language with some definition of both these things; +but thought, as Sir William Grove said of motion, is a phenomenon "so +obvious to simple apprehension, that to define it would make it more +obscure." {17} Definitions are useful where things are new to us, but +they are superfluous about those that are already familiar, and +mischievous, so far as they are possible at all, in respect of all those +things that enter so profoundly and intimately into our being that in +them we must either live or bear no life. To vivisect the more vital +processes of thought is to suspend, if not to destroy them; for thought +can think about everything more healthily and easily than about itself. +It is like its instrument the brain, which knows nothing of any injuries +inflicted upon itself. As regards what is new to us, a definition will +sometimes dilute a difficulty, and help us to swallow that which might +choke us undiluted; but to define when we have once well swallowed is to +unsettle, rather than settle, our digestion. Definitions, again, are +like steps cut in a steep slope of ice, or shells thrown on to a greasy +pavement; they give us foothold, and enable us to advance, but when we +are at our journey's end we want them no longer. Again, they are useful +as mental fluxes, and as helping us to fuse new ideas with our older +ones. They present us with some tags and ends of ideas that we have +already mastered, on to which we can hitch our new ones; but to multiply +them in respect of such a matter as thought, is like scratching the bite +of a gnat; the more we scratch the more we want to scratch; the more we +define the more we shall have to go on defining the words we have used in +our definitions, and shall end by setting up a serious mental raw in the +place of a small uneasiness that was after all quite endurable. We know +too well what thought is, to be able to know that we know it, and I am +persuaded there is no one in this room but understands what is meant by +thought and thinking well enough for all the purposes of this discussion. +Whoever does not know this without words will not learn it for all the +words and definitions that are laid before him. The more, indeed, he +hears, the more confused he will become. I shall, therefore, merely +premise that I use the word "thought" in the same sense as that in which +it is generally used by people who say that they think this or that. At +any rate, it will be enough if I take Professor Max Muller's own +definition, and say that its essence consists in a bringing together of +mental images and ideas with deductions therefrom, and with a +corresponding power of detaching them from one another. Hobbes, the +Professor tells us, maintained this long ago, when he said that all our +thinking consists of addition and subtraction--that is to say, in +bringing ideas together, and in detaching them from one another. + +Turning from thought to language, we observe that the word is derived +from the French _langue_, or _tongue_. Strictly, therefore, it means +_tonguage_. This, however, takes account of but a very small part of the +ideas that underlie the word. It does, indeed, seize a familiar and +important detail of everyday speech, though it may be doubted whether the +tongue has more to do with speaking than lips, teeth and throat have, but +it makes no attempt at grasping and expressing the essential +characteristic of speech. Anything done with the tongue, even though it +involve no speaking at all, is _tonguage_; eating oranges is as much +tonguage as speech is. The word, therefore, though it tells us in part +how speech is effected, reveals nothing of that ulterior meaning which is +nevertheless inseparable from any right use of the words either "speech" +or "language." It presents us with what is indeed a very frequent +adjunct of conversation, but the use of written characters, or the finger- +speech of deaf mutes, is enough to show that the word "language" omits +all reference to the most essential characteristics of the idea, which in +practice it nevertheless very sufficiently presents to us. I hope +presently to make it clear to you how and why it should do so. The word +is incomplete in the first place, because it omits all reference to the +ideas which words, speech or language are intended to convey, and there +can be no true word without its actually or potentially conveying an +idea. Secondly, it makes no allusion to the person or persons to whom +the ideas are to be conveyed. Language is not language unless it not +only expresses fairly definite and coherent ideas, but unless it also +conveys these ideas to some other living intelligent being, either man or +brute, that can understand them. We may speak to a dog or horse, but not +to a stone. If we make pretence of doing so we are in reality only +talking to ourselves. The person or animal spoken to is half the +battle--a half, moreover, which is essential to there being any battle at +all. It takes two people to say a thing--a sayee as well as a sayer. The +one is as essential to any true saying as the other. A. may have spoken, +but if B. has not heard, there has been nothing said, and he must speak +again. True, the belief on A.'s part that he had a _bona fide_ sayee in +B., saves his speech qua him, but it has been barren and left no fertile +issue. It has failed to fulfil the conditions of true speech, which +involve not only that A. should speak, but also that B. should hear. +True, again, we often speak of loose, incoherent, indefinite language; +but by doing so we imply, and rightly, that we are calling that language +which is not true language at all. People, again, sometimes talk to +themselves without intending that any other person should hear them, but +this is not well done, and does harm to those who practise it. It is +abnormal, whereas our concern is with normal and essential +characteristics; we may, therefore, neglect both delirious babblings, and +the cases in which a person is regarding him or herself, as it were, from +outside, and treating himself as though he were some one else. + +Inquiring, then, what are the essentials, the presence of which +constitutes language, while their absence negatives it altogether, we +find that Professor Max Muller restricts them to the use of grammatical +articulate words that we can write or speak, and denies that anything can +be called language unless it can be written or spoken in articulate words +and sentences. He also denies that we can think at all unless we do so +in words; that is to say, in sentences with verbs and nouns. Indeed he +goes so far as to say upon his title-page that there can be no +reason--which I imagine comes to much the same thing as thought--without +language, and no language without reason. + +Against the assertion that there can be no true language without reason I +have nothing to say. But when the Professor says that there can be no +reason, or thought, without language, his opponents contend, as it seems +to me, with greater force, that thought, though infinitely aided, +extended and rendered definite through the invention of words, +nevertheless existed so fully as to deserve no other name thousands, if +not millions of years before words had entered into it at all. Words, +they say, are a comparatively recent invention, for the fuller expression +of something that was already in existence. + +Children, they urge, are often evidently thinking and reasoning, though +they can neither think nor speak in words. If you ask me to define +reason, I answer as before that this can no more be done than thought, +truth or motion can be defined. Who has answered the question, "What is +truth?" Man cannot see God and live. We cannot go so far back upon +ourselves as to undermine our own foundations; if we try to do we topple +over, and lose that very reason about which we vainly try to reason. If +we let the foundations be, we know well enough that they are there, and +we can build upon them in all security. We cannot, then, define reason +nor crib, cabin and confine it within a thus-far-shalt-thou-go-and-no- +further. Who can define heat or cold, or night or day? Yet, so long as +we hold fast by current consent, our chances of error for want of better +definition are so small that no sensible person will consider them. In +like manner, if we hold by current consent or common sense, which is the +same thing, about reason, we shall not find the want of an academic +definition hinder us from a reasonable conclusion. What nurse or mother +will doubt that her infant child can reason within the limits of its own +experience, long before it can formulate its reason in articulately +worded thought? If the development of any given animal is, as our +opponents themselves admit, an epitome of the history of its whole +anterior development, surely the fact that speech is an accomplishment +acquired after birth so artificially that children who have gone wild in +the woods lose it if they have ever learned it, points to the conclusion +that man's ancestors only learned to express themselves in articulate +language at a comparatively recent period. Granted that they learn to +think and reason continually the more and more fully for having done so, +will common sense permit us to suppose that they could neither think nor +reason at all till they could convey their ideas in words? + +I will return later to the reason of the lower animals, but will now deal +with the question what it is that constitutes language in the most +comprehensive sense that can be properly attached to it. I have said +already that language to be language at all must not only convey fairly +definite coherent ideas, but must also convey them to another living +being. Whenever two living beings have conveyed and received ideas, +there has been language, whether looks or gestures or words spoken or +written have been the vehicle by means of which the ideas have travelled. +Some ideas crawl, some run, some fly; and in this case words are the +wings they fly with, but they are only the wings of thought or of ideas, +they are not the thought or ideas themselves, nor yet, as Professor Max +Muller would have it, inseparably connected with them. Last summer I was +at an inn in Sicily, where there was a deaf and dumb waiter; he had been +born so, and could neither write nor read. What had he to do with words +or words with him? Are we to say, then, that this most active, amiable +and intelligent fellow could neither think nor reason? One day I had had +my dinner and had left the hotel. A friend came in, and the waiter saw +him look for me in the place I generally occupied. He instantly came up +to my friend, and moved his two forefingers in a way that suggested two +people going about together, this meant "your friend"; he then moved his +forefingers horizontally across his eyes, this meant, "who wears divided +spectacles"; he made two fierce marks over the sockets of his eyes, this +meant, "with the heavy eyebrows"; he pulled his chin, and then touched +his white shirt, to say that my beard was white. Having thus identified +me as a friend of the person he was speaking to, and as having a white +beard, heavy eyebrows, and wearing divided spectacles, he made a munching +movement with his jaws to say that I had had my dinner; and finally, by +making two fingers imitate walking on the table, he explained that I had +gone away. My friend, however, wanted to know how long I had been gone, +so he pulled out his watch and looked inquiringly. The man at once +slapped himself on the back, and held up the five fingers of one hand, to +say it was five minutes ago. All this was done as rapidly as though it +had been said in words; and my friend, who knew the man well, understood +without a moment's hesitation. Are we to say that this man had no +thought, nor reason, nor language, merely because he had not a single +word of any kind in his head, which I am assured he had not; for, as I +have said, he could not speak with his fingers? Is it possible to deny +that a dialogue--an intelligent conversation--had passed between the two +men? And if conversation, then surely it is technical and pedantic to +deny that all the essential elements of language were present. The signs +and tokens used by this poor fellow were as rude an instrument of +expression, in comparison with ordinary language, as going on one's hands +and knees is in comparison with walking, or as walking compared with +going by train; but it is as great an abuse of words to limit the word +"language" to mere words written or spoken, as it would be to limit the +idea of a locomotive to a railway engine. This may indeed pass in +ordinary conversation, where so much must be suppressed if talk is to be +got through at all, but it is intolerable when we are inquiring about the +relations between thought and words. To do so is to let words become as +it were the masters of thought, on the ground that the fact of their +being only its servants and appendages is so obvious that it is generally +allowed to go without saying. + +If all that Professor Max Muller means to say is, that no animal but man +commands an articulate language, with verbs and nouns, or is ever likely +to command one (and I question whether in reality he means much more than +this), no one will differ from him. No dog or elephant has one word for +bread, another for meat, and another for water. Yet, when we watch a cat +or dog dreaming, as they often evidently do, can we doubt that the dream +is accompanied by a mental image of the thing that is dreamed of, much +like what we experience in dreams ourselves, and much doubtless like the +mental images which must have passed through the mind of my deaf and dumb +waiter? If they have mental images in sleep, can we doubt that waking, +also, they picture things before their mind's eyes, and see them much as +we do--too vaguely indeed to admit of our thinking that we actually see +the objects themselves, but definitely enough for us to be able to +recognise the idea or object of which we are thinking, and to connect it +with any other idea, object, or sign that we may think appropriate? + +Here we have touched on the second essential element of language. We +laid it down, that its essence lay in the communication of an idea from +one intelligent being to another; but no ideas can be communicated at all +except by the aid of conventions to which both parties have agreed to +attach an identical meaning. The agreement may be very informal, and may +pass so unconsciously from one generation to another that its existence +can only be recognised by the aid of much introspection, but it will be +always there. A sayer, a sayee, and a convention, no matter what, agreed +upon between them as inseparably attached to the idea which it is +intended to convey--these comprise all the essentials of language. Where +these are present there is language; where any of them are wanting there +is no language. It is not necessary for the sayee to be able to speak +and become a sayer. If he comprehends the sayer--that is to say, if he +attaches the same meaning to a certain symbol as the sayer does--if he is +a party to the bargain whereby it is agreed upon by both that any given +symbol shall be attached invariably to a certain idea, so that in virtue +of the principle of associated ideas the symbol shall never be present +without immediately carrying the idea along with it, then all the +essentials of language are complied with, and there has been true speech +though never a word was spoken. + +The lower animals, therefore, many of them, possess a part of our own +language, though they cannot speak it, and hence do not possess it so +fully as we do. They cannot say "bread," "meat," or "water," but there +are many that readily learn what ideas they ought to attach to these +symbols when they are presented to them. It is idle to say that a cat +does not know what the cat's-meat man means when he says "meat." The cat +knows just as well, neither better nor worse than the cat's-meat man +does, and a great deal better than I myself understand much that is said +by some very clever people at Oxford or Cambridge. There is more true +employment of language, more _bona fide_ currency of speech, between a +sayer and a sayee who understand each other, though neither of them can +speak a word, than between a sayer who can speak with the tongues of men +and of angels without being clear about his own meaning, and a sayee who +can himself utter the same words, but who is only in imperfect agreement +with the sayer as to the ideas which the words or symbols that he utters +are intended to convey. The nature of the symbols counts for nothing; +the gist of the matter is in the perfect harmony between sayer and sayee +as to the significance that is to be associated with them. + +Professor Max Muller admits that we share with the lower animals what he +calls an emotional language, and continues that we may call their +interjections and imitations language if we like, as we speak of the +language of the eyes or the eloquence of mute nature, but he warns us +against mistaking metaphor for fact. It is indeed mere metaphor to talk +of the eloquence of mute nature, or the language of winds and waves. +There is no intercommunion of mind with mind by means of a covenanted +symbol; but it is only an apparent, not a real, metaphor to say that two +pairs of eyes have spoken when they have signalled to one another +something which they both understand. A schoolboy at home for the +holidays wants another plate of pudding, and does not like to apply +officially for more. He catches the servant's eye and looks at the +pudding; the servant understands, takes his plate without a word, and +gets him some. Is it metaphor to say that the boy asked the servant to +do this, or is it not rather pedantry to insist on the letter of a bond +and deny its spirit, by denying that language passed, on the ground that +the symbols covenanted upon and assented to by both were uttered and +received by eyes and not by mouth and ears? When the lady drank to the +gentleman only with her eyes, and he pledged with his, was there no +conversation because there was neither noun nor verb? Eyes are verbs, +and glasses of wine are good nouns enough as between those who understand +one another. Whether the ideas underlying them are expressed and +conveyed by eyeage or by tonguage is a detail that matters nothing. + +But everything we say is metaphorical if we choose to be captious. +Scratch the simplest expressions, and you will find the metaphor. Written +words are handage, inkage and paperage; it is only by metaphor, or +substitution and transposition of ideas, that we can call them language. +They are indeed potential language, and the symbols employed presuppose +nouns, verbs, and the other parts of speech; but for the most part it is +in what we read between the lines that the profounder meaning of any +letter is conveyed. There are words unwritten and untranslatable into +any nouns that are nevertheless felt as above, about and underneath the +gross material symbols that lie scrawled upon the paper; and the deeper +the feeling with which anything is written the more pregnant will it be +of meaning which can be conveyed securely enough, but which loses rather +than gains if it is squeezed into a sentence, and limited by the parts of +speech. The language is not in the words but in the heart-to-heartness +of the thing, which is helped by words, but is nearer and farther than +they. A correspondent wrote to me once, many years ago, "If I could +think to you without words you would understand me better." But surely +in this he was thinking to me, and without words, and I did understand +him better . . . So it is not by the words that I am too presumptuously +venturing to speak to-night that your opinions will be formed or +modified. They will be formed or modified, if either, by something that +you will feel, but which I have not spoken, to the full as much as by +anything that I have actually uttered. You may say that this borders on +mysticism. Perhaps it does, but their really is some mysticism in +nature. + +To return, however, to _terra firma_. I believe I am right in saying +that the essence of language lies in the intentional conveyance of ideas +from one living being to another through the instrumentality of arbitrary +tokens or symbols agreed upon, and understood by both as being associated +with the particular ideas in question. The nature of the symbol chosen +is a matter of indifference; it may be anything that appeals to human +senses, and is not too hot or too heavy; the essence of the matter lies +in a mutual covenant that whatever it is it shall stand invariably for +the same thing, or nearly so. + +We shall see this more easily if we observe the differences between +written and spoken language. The written word "stone," and the spoken +word, are each of them symbols arrived at in the first instance +arbitrarily. They are neither of them more like the other than they are +to the idea of a stone which rises before our minds, when we either see +or hear the word, or than this idea again is like the actual stone +itself, but nevertheless the spoken symbol and the written one each alike +convey with certainty the combination of ideas to which we have agreed to +attach them. + +The written symbol is formed with the hand, appeals to the eye, leaves a +material trace as long as paper and ink last, can travel as far as paper +and ink can travel, and can be imprinted on eye after eye practically _ad +infinitum_ both as regards time and space. + +The spoken symbol is formed by means of various organs in or about the +mouth, appeals to the ear, not the eye, perishes instantly without +material trace, and if it lives at all does so only in the minds of those +who heard it. The range of its action is no wider than that within which +a voice can be heard; and every time a fresh impression is wanted the +type must be set up anew. + +The written symbol extends infinitely, as regards time and space, the +range within which one mind can communicate with another; it gives the +writer's mind a life limited by the duration of ink, paper, and readers, +as against that of his flesh and blood body. On the other hand, it takes +longer to learn the rules so as to be able to apply them with ease and +security, and even then they cannot be applied so quickly and easily as +those attaching to spoken symbols. Moreover, the spoken symbol admits of +a hundred quick and subtle adjuncts by way of action, tone and +expression, so that no one will use written symbols unless either for the +special advantages of permanence and travelling power, or because he is +incapacitated from using spoken ones. This, however, is hardly to the +point; the point is that these two conventional combinations of symbols, +that are as unlike one another as the Hallelujah Chorus is to St. Paul's +Cathedral, are the one as much language as the other; and we therefore +inquire what this very patent fact reveals to us about the more essential +characteristics of language itself. What is the common bond that unites +these two classes of symbols that seem at first sight to have nothing in +common, and makes the one raise the idea of language in our minds as +readily as the other? The bond lies in the fact that both are a set of +conventional tokens or symbols, agreed upon between the parties to whom +they appeal as being attached invariably to the same ideas, and because +they are being made as a means of communion between one mind and +another,--for a memorandum made for a person's own later use is nothing +but a communication from an earlier mind to a later and modified one; it +is therefore in reality a communication from one mind to another as much +as though it had been addressed to another person. + +We see, therefore, that the nature of the outward and visible sign to +which the inward and spiritual idea of language is attached does not +matter. It may be the firing of a gun; it may be an old semaphore +telegraph; it may be the movements of a needle; a look, a gesture, the +breaking of a twig by an Indian to tell some one that he has passed that +way: a twig broken designedly with this end in view is a letter addressed +to whomsoever it may concern, as much as though it had been written out +in full on bark or paper. It does not matter one straw what it is, +provided it is agreed upon in concert, and stuck to. Just as the lowest +forms of life nevertheless present us with all the essential +characteristics of livingness, and are as much alive in their own humble +way as the most highly developed organisms, so the rudest intentional and +effectual communication between two minds through the instrumentality of +a concerted symbol is as much language as the most finished oratory of +Mr. Gladstone. I demur therefore to the assertion that the lower animals +have no language, inasmuch as they cannot themselves articulate a +grammatical sentence. I do not indeed pretend that when the cat calls +upon the tiles it uses what it consciously and introspectively recognises +as language; it says what it has to say without introspection, and in the +ordinary course of business, as one of the common forms of courtship. It +no more knows that it has been using language than M. Jourdain knew he +had been speaking prose, but M. Jourdain's knowing or not knowing was +neither here nor there. + +Anything which can be made to hitch on invariably to a definite idea that +can carry some distance--say an inch at the least, and which can be +repeated at pleasure, can be pressed into the service of language. Mrs. +Bentley, wife of the famous Dr. Bentley of Trinity College, Cambridge, +used to send her snuff-box to the college buttery when she wanted beer, +instead of a written order. If the snuff-box came the beer was sent, but +if there was no snuff-box there was no beer. Wherein did the snuff-box +differ more from a written order, than a written order differs from a +spoken one? The snuff-box was for the time being language. It sounds +strange to say that one might take a pinch of snuff out of a sentence, +but if the servant had helped him or herself to a pinch while carrying it +to the buttery this is what would have been done; for if a snuff-box can +say "Send me a quart of beer," so efficiently that the beer is sent, it +is impossible to say that it is not a _bona fide_ sentence. As for the +recipient of the message, the butler did not probably translate the snuff- +box into articulate nouns and verbs; as soon as he saw it he just went +down into the cellar and drew the beer, and if he thought at all, it was +probably about something else. Yet he must have been thinking without +words, or he would have drawn too much beer or too little, or have spilt +it in the bringing it up, and we may be sure that he did none of these +things. + +You will, of course, observe that if Mrs. Bentley had sent the snuff-box +to the buttery of St. John's College instead of Trinity, it would not +have been language, for there would have been no covenant between sayer +and sayee as to what the symbol should represent, there would have been +no previously established association of ideas in the mind of the butler +of St. John's between beer and snuff-box; the connection was artificial, +arbitrary, and by no means one of those in respect of which an impromptu +bargain might be proposed by the very symbol itself, and assented to +without previous formality by the person to whom it was presented. More +briefly, the butler of St. John's would not have been able to understand +and read it aright. It would have been a dead letter to him--a snuff-box +and not a letter; whereas to the butler of Trinity it was a letter and +not a snuff-box. + +You will also note that it was only at the moment when he was looking at +it and accepting it as a message that it flashed forth from snuff-box- +hood into the light and life of living utterance. As soon as it had +kindled the butler into sending a single quart of beer, its force was +spent until Mrs. Bentley threw her soul into it again and charged it anew +by wanting more beer, and sending it down accordingly. + +Again, take the ring which the Earl of Essex sent to Queen Elizabeth, but +which the queen did not receive. This was intended as a sentence, but +failed to become effectual language because the sensible material symbol +never reached those sentient organs which it was intended to affect. A +book, again, however full of excellent words it may be, is not language +when it is merely standing on a bookshelf. It speaks to no one, unless +when being actually read, or quoted from by an act of memory. It is +potential language as a lucifer-match is potential fire, but it is no +more language till it is in contact with a recipient mind, than a match +is fire till it is struck, and is being consumed. + +A piece of music, again, without any words at all, or a song with words +that have nothing in the world to do with the ideas which it is +nevertheless made to convey, is often very effectual language. Much +lying, and all irony depends on tampering with covenanted symbols, and +making those that are usually associated with one set of ideas convey by +a sleight of mind others of a different nature. That is why irony is +intolerably fatiguing unless very sparingly used. Take the song which +Blondel sang under the window of King Richard's prison. There was not +one syllable in it to say that Blondel was there, and was going to help +the king to get out of prison. It was about some silly love affair, but +it was a letter all the same, and the king made language of what would +otherwise have been no language, by guessing the meaning, that is to say +by perceiving that he was expected to enter then and there into a new +covenant as to the meaning of the symbols that were presented to him, +understanding what this covenant was to be, and acquiescing in it. + +On the other hand, no ingenuity can torture language into being a fit +word to use in connection with either sounds or any other symbols that +have not been intended to convey a meaning, or again in connection with +either sounds or symbols in respect of which there has been no covenant +between sayer and sayee. When we hear people speaking a foreign +language--we will say Welsh--we feel that though they are no doubt using +what is very good language as between themselves, there is no language +whatever as far as we are concerned. We call it lingo, not language. The +Chinese letters on a tea-chest might as well not be there, for all that +they say to us, though the Chinese find them very much to the purpose. +They are a covenant to which we have been no parties--to which our +intelligence has affixed no signature. + +We have already seen that it is in virtue of such an understood covenant +that symbols so unlike one another as the written word "stone" and the +spoken word alike at once raise the idea of a stone in our minds. See +how the same holds good as regards the different languages that pass +current in different nations. The letters p, i, e, r, r, e convey the +idea of a stone to a Frenchman as readily as s, t, o, n, e do to +ourselves. And why? because that is the covenant that has been struck +between those who speak and those who are spoken to. Our "stone" conveys +no idea to a Frenchman, nor his "pierre" to us, unless we have done what +is commonly called acquiring one another's language. To acquire a +foreign language is only to learn and adhere to the covenants in respect +of symbols which the nation in question has adopted and adheres to. + +Till we have done this we neither of us know the rules, so to speak, of +the game that the other is playing, and cannot, therefore, play together; +but the convention being once known and assented to, it does not matter +whether we raise the idea of a stone by the word "lapis," or by "lithos," +"pietra," "pierre," "stein," "stane" or "stone"; we may choose what +symbols written or spoken we choose, and one set, unless they are of +unwieldy length will do as well as another, if we can get other people to +choose the same and stick to them; it is the accepting and sticking to +them that matters, not the symbols. The whole power of spoken language +is vested in the invariableness with which certain symbols are associated +with certain ideas. If we are strict in always connecting the same +symbols with the same ideas, we speak well, keep our meaning clear to +ourselves, and convey it readily and accurately to any one who is also +fairly strict. If, on the other hand, we use the same combination of +symbols for one thing one day and for another the next, we abuse our +symbols instead of using them, and those who indulge in slovenly habits +in this respect ere long lose the power alike of thinking and of +expressing themselves correctly. The symbols, however, in the first +instance, may be anything in the wide world that we have a fancy for. +They have no more to do with the ideas they serve to convey than money +has with the things that it serves to buy. + +The principle of association, as every one knows, involves that whenever +two things have been associated sufficiently together, the suggestion of +one of them to the mind shall immediately raise a suggestion of the +other. It is in virtue of this principle that language, as we so call +it, exists at all, for the essence of language consists, as I have said +perhaps already too often, in the fixity with which certain ideas are +invariably connected with certain symbols. But this being so, it is hard +to see how we can deny that the lower animals possess the germs of a +highly rude and unspecialised, but still true language, unless we also +deny that they have any ideas at all; and this I gather is what Professor +Max Muller in a quiet way rather wishes to do. Thus he says, "It is easy +enough to show that animals communicate, but this is a fact which has +never been doubted. Dogs who growl and bark leave no doubt in the minds +of other dogs or cats, or even of man, of what they mean, but growling +and barking are not language, nor do they even contain the elements of +language." {18} + +I observe the Professor says that animals communicate without saying what +it is that they communicate. I believe this to have been because if he +said that the lower animals communicate their ideas, this would be to +admit that they have ideas; if so, and if, as they present every +appearance of doing, they can remember, reflect upon, modify these ideas +according to modified surroundings, and interchange them with one +another, how is it possible to deny them the germs of thought, language, +and reason--not to say a good deal more than the germs? It seems to me +that not knowing what else to say that animals communicated if it was not +ideas, and not knowing what mess he might not get into if he admitted +that they had ideas at all, he thought it safer to omit his accusative +case altogether. + +That growling and barking cannot be called a very highly specialised +language goes without saying; they are, however, so much diversified in +character, according to circumstances, that they place a considerable +number of symbols at an animal's command, and he invariably attaches the +same symbol to the same idea. A cat never purrs when she is angry, nor +spits when she is pleased. When she rubs her head against any one +affectionately it is her symbol for saying that she is very fond of him, +and she expects, and usually finds that it will be understood. If she +sees her mistress raise her hand as though to pretend to strike her, she +knows that it is the symbol her mistress invariably attaches to the idea +of sending her away, and as such she accepts it. Granted that the +symbols in use among the lower animals are fewer and less highly +differentiated than in the case of any known human language, and +therefore that animal language is incomparably less subtle and less +capable of expressing delicate shades of meaning than our own, these +differences are nevertheless only those that exist between highly +developed and inchoate language; they do not involve those that +distinguish language from no language. They are the differences between +the undifferentiated protoplasm of the amoeba and our own complex +organisation; they are not the differences between life and no life. In +animal language as much as in human there is a mind intentionally making +use of a symbol accepted by another mind as invariably attached to a +certain idea, in order to produce that idea in the mind which it is +desired to affect--more briefly, there is a sayer, a sayee, and a +covenanted symbol designedly applied. Our own speech is vertebrated and +articulated by means of nouns, verbs, and the rules of grammar. A dog's +speech is invertebrate, but I do not see how it is possible to deny that +it possesses all the essential elements of language. + +I have said nothing about Professor R. L. Garner's researches into the +language of apes, because they have not yet been so far verified and +accepted as to make it safe to rely upon them; but when he lays it down +that all voluntary sounds are the products of thought, and that, if they +convey a meaning to another, they perform the functions of human speech, +he says what I believe will commend itself to any unsophisticated mind. I +could have wished, however, that he had not limited himself to sounds, +and should have preferred his saying what I doubt not he would readily +accept--I mean, that all symbols or tokens of whatever kind, if +voluntarily adopted as such, are the products of thought, and perform the +functions of human speech; but I cannot too often remind you that nothing +can be considered as fulfilling the conditions of language, except a +voluntary application of a recognised token in order to convey a more or +less definite meaning, with the intention doubtless of thus purchasing as +it were some other desired meaning and consequent sensation. It is +astonishing how closely in this respect money and words resemble one +another. Money indeed may be considered as the most universal and +expressive of all languages. For gold and silver coins are no more money +when not in the actual process of being voluntarily used in purchase, +than words not so in use are language. Pounds, shillings and pence are +recognised covenanted tokens, the outward and visible signs of an inward +and spiritual purchasing power, but till in actual use they are only +potential money, as the symbols of language, whatever they may be, are +only potential language till they are passing between two minds. It is +the power and will to apply the symbols that alone gives life to money, +and as long as these are in abeyance the money is in abeyance also; the +coins may be safe in one's pocket, but they are as dead as a log till +they begin to burn in it, and so are our words till they begin to burn +within us. + +The real question, however, as to the substantial underlying identity +between the language of the lower animals and our own, turns upon that +other question whether or no, in spite of an immeasurable difference of +degree, the thought and reason of man and of the lower animals is +essentially the same. No one will expect a dog to master and express the +varied ideas that are incessantly arising in connection with human +affairs. He is a pauper as against a millionaire. To ask him to do so +would be like giving a street-boy sixpence and telling him to go and buy +himself a founder's share in the New River Company. He would not even +know what was meant, and even if he did it would take several millions of +sixpences to buy one. It is astonishing what a clever workman will do +with very modest tools, or again how far a thrifty housewife will make a +very small sum of money go, or again in like manner how many ideas an +intelligent brute can receive and convey with its very limited +vocabulary; but no one will pretend that a dog's intelligence can ever +reach the level of a man's. What we do maintain is that, within its own +limited range, it is of the same essential character as our own, and that +though a dog's ideas in respect of human affairs are both vague and +narrow, yet in respect of canine affairs they are precise enough and +extensive enough to deserve no other name than thought or reason. We +hold moreover that they communicate their ideas in essentially the same +manner as we do--that is to say, by the instrumentality of a code of +symbols attached to certain states of mind and material objects, in the +first instance arbitrarily, but so persistently, that the presentation of +the symbol immediately carries with it the idea which it is intended to +convey. Animals can thus receive and impart ideas on all that most +concerns them. As my great namesake said some two hundred years ago, +they know "what's what, and that's as high as metaphysic wit can fly." +And they not only know what's what themselves, but can impart to one +another any new what's-whatness that they may have acquired, for they are +notoriously able to instruct and correct one another. + +Against this Professor Max Muller contends that we can know nothing of +what goes on in the mind of any lower animal, inasmuch as we are not +lower animals ourselves. "We can imagine anything we like about what +passes in the mind of an animal," he writes, "we can know absolutely +nothing." {19} It is something to have it in evidence that he conceives +animals as having a mind at all, but it is not easy to see how they can +be supposed to have a mind, without being able to acquire ideas, and +having acquired, to read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them. Surely +the mistake of requiring too much evidence is hardly less great than that +of being contented with too little. We, too, are animals, and can no +more refuse to infer reason from certain visible actions in their case +than we can in our own. If Professor Max Muller's plea were allowed, we +should have to deny our right to infer confidently what passes in the +mind of any one not ourselves, inasmuch as we are not that person. We +never, indeed, can obtain irrefragable certainty about this or any other +matter, but we can be sure enough in many cases to warrant our staking +all that is most precious to us on the soundness of our opinion. +Moreover, if the Professor denies our right to infer that animals reason, +on the ground that we are not animals enough ourselves to be able to form +an opinion, with what right does he infer so confidently himself that +they do not reason? And how, if they present every one of those +appearances which we are accustomed to connect with the communication of +an idea from one mind to another, can we deny that they have a language +of their own, though it is one which in most cases we can neither speak +nor understand? How can we say that a sentinel rook, when it sees a man +with a gun and warns the other rooks by a concerted note which they all +show that they understand by immediately taking flight, should not be +credited both with reason and the germs of language? + +After all, a professor, whether of philology, psychology, biology, or any +other ology, is hardly the kind of person to whom we should appeal on +such an elementary question as that of animal intelligence and language. +We might as well ask a botanist to tell us whether grass grows, or a +meteorologist to tell us if it has left off raining. If it is necessary +to appeal to any one, I should prefer the opinion of an intelligent +gamekeeper to that of any professor, however learned. The keepers, +again, at the Zoological Gardens, have exceptional opportunities for +studying the minds of animals--modified, indeed, by captivity, but still +minds of animals. Grooms, again, and dog-fanciers, are to the full as +able to form an intelligent opinion on the reason and language of animals +as any University Professor, and so are cats'-meat men. I have +repeatedly asked gamekeepers and keepers at the Zoological Gardens +whether animals could reason and converse with one another, and have +always found myself regarded somewhat contemptuously for having even +asked the question. I once said to a friend, in the hearing of a keeper +at the Zoological Gardens, that the penguin was very stupid. The man was +furious, and jumped upon me at once. "He's not stupid at all," said he; +"he's very intelligent." + +Who has not seen a cat, when it wishes to go out, raise its fore paws on +to the handle of the door, or as near as it can get, and look round, +evidently asking some one to turn it for her? Is it reasonable to deny +that a reasoning process is going on in the cat's mind, whereby she +connects her wish with the steps necessary for its fulfilment, and also +with certain invariable symbols which she knows her master or mistress +will interpret? Once, in company with a friend, I watched a cat playing +with a house-fly in the window of a ground-floor room. We were in the +street, while the cat was inside. When we came up to the window she gave +us one searching look, and, having satisfied herself that we had nothing +for her, went on with her game. She knew all about the glass in the +window, and was sure we could do nothing to molest her, so she treated us +with absolute contempt, never even looking at us again. + +The game was this. She was to catch the fly and roll it round and round +under her paw along the window-sill, but so gently as not to injure it +nor prevent it from being able to fly again when she had done rolling it. +It was very early spring, and flies were scarce, in fact there was not +another in the whole window. She knew that if she crippled this one, it +would not be able to amuse her further, and that she would not readily +get another instead, and she liked the feel of it under her paw. It was +soft and living, and the quivering of its wings tickled the ball of her +foot in a manner that she found particularly grateful; so she rolled it +gently along the whole length of the window-sill. It then became the +fly's turn. He was to get up and fly about in the window, so as to +recover himself a little; then she was to catch him again, and roll him +softly all along the window-sill, as she had done before. + +It was plain that the cat knew the rules of her game perfectly well, and +enjoyed it keenly. It was equally plain that the fly could not make head +or tail of what it was all about. If it had been able to do so it would +have gone to play in the upper part of the window, where the cat could +not reach it. Perhaps it was always hoping to get through the glass, and +escape that way; anyhow, it kept pretty much to the same pane, no matter +how often it was rolled. At last, however, the fly, for some reason or +another, did not reappear on the pane, and the cat began looking +everywhere to find it. Her annoyance when she failed to do so was +extreme. It was not only that she had lost her fly, but that she could +not conceive how she should have ever come to do so. Presently she noted +a small knot in the woodwork of the sill, and it flashed upon her that +she had accidentally killed the fly, and that this was its dead body. She +tried to move it gently with her paw, but it was no use, and for the time +she satisfied herself that the knot and the fly had nothing to do with +one another. Every now and then, however, she returned to it as though +it were the only thing she could think of, and she would try it again. +She seemed to say she was certain there had been no knot there before--she +must have seen it if there had been; and yet, the fly could hardly have +got jammed so firmly into the wood. She was puzzled and irritated beyond +measure, and kept looking in the same place again and again, just as we +do when we have mislaid something. She was rapidly losing temper and +dignity when suddenly we saw the fly reappear from under the cat's +stomach and make for the window-pane, at the very moment when the cat +herself was exclaiming for the fiftieth time that she wondered where that +stupid fly ever could have got to. No man who has been hunting twenty +minutes for his spectacles could be more delighted when he suddenly finds +them on his own forehead. "So that's where you were," we seemed to hear +her say, as she proceeded to catch it, and again began rolling it very +softly without hurting it, under her paw. My friend and I both noticed +that the cat, in spite of her perplexity, never so much as hinted that we +were the culprits. The question whether anything outside the window +could do her good or harm had long since been settled by her in the +negative, and she was not going to reopen it; she simply cut us dead, and +though her annoyance was so great that she was manifestly ready to lay +the blame on anybody or anything with or without reason, and though she +must have perfectly well known that we were watching the whole affair +with amusement, she never either asked us if we had happened to see such +a thing as a fly go down our way lately, or accused us of having taken it +from her--both of which ideas she would, I am confident, have been very +well able to convey to us if she had been so minded. + +Now what are thought and reason if the processes that were going through +this cat's mind were not both one and the other? It would be childish to +suppose that the cat thought in words of its own, or in anything like +words. Its thinking was probably conducted through the instrumentality +of a series of mental images. We so habitually think in words ourselves +that we find it difficult to realise thought without words at all; our +difficulty, however, in imagining the particular manner in which the cat +thinks has nothing to do with the matter. We must answer the question +whether she thinks or no, not according to our own ease or difficulty in +understanding the particular manner of her thinking, but according as her +action does or does not appear to be of the same character as other +action that we commonly call thoughtful. To say that the cat is not +intelligent, merely on the ground that we cannot ourselves fathom her +intelligence--this, as I have elsewhere said, is to make intelligence +mean the power of being understood, rather than the power of +understanding. This nevertheless is what, for all our boasted +intelligence, we generally do. The more we can understand an animal's +ways, the more intelligent we call it, and the less we can understand +these, the more stupid do we declare it to be. As for plants--whose +punctuality and attention to all the details and routine of their +somewhat restricted lines of business is as obvious as it is beyond all +praise--we understand the working of their minds so little that by common +consent we declare them to have no intelligence at all. + +Before concluding I should wish to deal a little more fully with +Professor Max Muller's contention that there can be no reason without +language, and no language without reason. Surely when two practised +pugilists are fighting, parrying each other's blows, and watching keenly +for an unguarded point, they are thinking and reasoning very subtly the +whole time, without doing so in words. The machination of their +thoughts, as well as its expression, is actual--I mean, effectuated and +expressed by action and deed, not words. They are unaware of any logical +sequence of thought that they could follow in words as passing through +their minds at all. They may perhaps think consciously in words now and +again, but such thought will be intermittent, and the main part of the +fighting will be done without any internal concomitance of articulated +phrases. Yet we cannot doubt that their action, however much we may +disapprove of it, is guided by intelligence and reason; nor should we +doubt that a reasoning process of the same character goes on in the minds +of two dogs or fighting-cocks when they are striving to master their +opponents. + +Do we think in words, again, when we wind up our watches, put on our +clothes, or eat our breakfasts? If we do, it is generally about +something else. We do these things almost as much without the help of +words as we wink or yawn, or perform any of those other actions that we +call reflex, as it would almost seem because they are done without +reflection. They are not, however, the less reasonable because wordless. + +Even when we think we are thinking in words, we do so only in half +measure. A running accompaniment of words no doubt frequently attends +our thoughts; but, unless we are writing or speaking, this accompaniment +is of the vaguest and most fitful kind, as we often find out when we try +to write down or say what we are thinking about, though we have a fairly +definite notion of it, or fancy that we have one, all the time. The +thought is not steadily and coherently governed by and moulded in words, +nor does it steadily govern them. Words and thought interact upon and +help one another, as any other mechanical appliances interact on and help +the invention that first hit upon them; but reason or thought, for the +most part, flies along over the heads of words, working its own +mysterious way in paths that are beyond our ken, though whether some of +our departmental personalities are as unconscious of what is passing, as +that central government is which we alone dub with the name of "we" or +"us," is a point on which I will not now touch. + +I cannot think, then, that Professor Max Muller's contention that thought +and language are identical--and he has repeatedly affirmed this--will +ever be generally accepted. Thought is no more identical with language +than feeling is identical with the nervous system. True, we can no more +feel without a nervous system than we can discern certain minute +organisms without a microscope. Destroy the nervous system, and we +destroy feeling. Destroy the microscope, and we can no longer see the +animalcules; but our sight of the animalcules is not the microscope, +though it is effectuated by means of the microscope, and our feeling is +not the nervous system, though the nervous system is the instrument that +enables us to feel. + +The nervous system is a device which living beings have gradually +perfected--I believe I may say quite truly--through the will and power +which they have derived from a fountain-head, the existence of which we +can infer, but which we can never apprehend. By the help of this device, +and in proportion as they have perfected it, living beings feel ever with +greater definiteness, and hence formulate their feelings in thought with +more and more precision. The higher evolution of thought has reacted on +the nervous system, and the consequent higher evolution of the nervous +system has again reacted upon thought. These things are as power and +desire, or supply and demand, each one of which is continually +outstripping, and being in turn outstripped by the other; but, in spite +of their close connection and interaction, power is not desire, nor +demand supply. Language is a device evolved sometimes by leaps and +bounds, and sometimes exceedingly slowly, whereby we help ourselves alike +to greater ease, precision, and complexity of thought, and also to more +convenient interchange of thought among ourselves. Thought found rude +expression, which gradually among other forms assumed that of words. +These reacted upon thought, and thought again on them, but thought is no +more identical with words than words are with the separate letters of +which they are composed. + +To sum up, then, and to conclude. I would ask you to see the connection +between words and ideas, as in the first instance arbitrary. No doubt in +some cases an imitation of the cry of some bird or wild beast would +suggest the name that should be attached to it; occasionally the sound of +an operation such as grinding may have influenced the choice of the +letters g, r, as the root of many words that denote a grinding, grating, +grasping, crushing, action; but I understand that the number of words due +to direct imitation is comparatively few in number, and that they have +been mainly coined as the result of connections so far-fetched and +fanciful as to amount practically to no connection at all. Once chosen, +however, they were adhered to for a considerable time among the dwellers +in any given place, so as to become acknowledged as the vulgar tongue, +and raise readily in the mind of the inhabitants of that place the ideas +with which they had been artificially associated. + +As regards our being able to think and reason without words, the Duke of +Argyll has put the matter as soundly as I have yet seen it stated. "It +seems to me," he wrote, "quite certain that we can and do constantly +think of things without thinking of any sound or word as designating +them. Language seems to me to be necessary for the progress of thought, +but not at all for the mere act of thinking. It is a product of thought, +an expression of it, a vehicle for the communication of it, and an +embodiment which is essential to its growth and continuity; but it seems +to me altogether erroneous to regard it as an inseparable part of +cogitation." + +The following passages, again, are quoted from Sir William Hamilton in +Professor Max Muller's own book, with so much approval as to lead one to +suppose that the differences between himself and his opponents are in +reality less than he believes them to be:-- + +"Language," says Sir W. Hamilton, "is the attribution of signs to our +cognitions of things. But as a cognition must have already been there +before it could receive a sign, consequently that knowledge which is +denoted by the formation and application of a word must have preceded the +symbol that denotes it. A sign, however, is necessary to give stability +to our intellectual progress--to establish each step in our advance as a +new starting-point for our advance to another beyond. A country may be +overrun by an armed host, but it is only conquered by the establishment +of fortresses. Words are the fortresses of thought. They enable us to +realise our dominion over what we have already overrun in thought; to +make every intellectual conquest the base of operations for others still +beyond." + +"This," says Professor Max Muller, "is a most happy illustration," and he +proceeds to quote the following, also from Sir William Hamilton, which he +declares to be even happier still. + +"You have all heard," says Sir William Hamilton, "of the process of +tunnelling through a sandbank. In this operation it is impossible to +succeed unless every foot, nay, almost every inch of our progress be +secured by an arch of masonry before we attempt the excavation of +another. Now language is to the mind precisely what the arch is to the +tunnel. The power of thinking and the power of excavation are not +dependent on the words in the one case or on the mason-work in the other; +but without these subsidiaries neither could be carried on beyond its +rudimentary commencement. Though, therefore, we allow that every +movement forward in language must be determined by an antecedent movement +forward in thought, still, unless thought be accompanied at each point of +its evolutions by a corresponding evolution of language, its further +development is arrested." + +Man has evolved an articulate language, whereas the lower animals seem to +be without one. Man, therefore, has far outstripped them in reasoning +faculty as well as in power of expression. This, however, does not bar +the communications which the lower animals make to one another from +possessing all the essential characteristics of language, and as a matter +of fact, wherever we can follow them we find such communications +effectuated by the aid of arbitrary symbols covenanted upon by the living +beings that wish to communicate, and persistently associated with certain +corresponding feelings, states of mind, or material objects. Human +language is nothing more than this in principle, however much further the +principle has been carried in our own case than in that of the lower +animals. + +This being admitted, we should infer that the thought or reason on which +the language of men and animals is alike founded differs as between men +and brutes in degree but not in kind. More than this cannot be claimed +on behalf of the lower animals, even by their most enthusiastic admirer. + + + + +THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM {20}--PART I + + +It will be readily admitted that of all living writers Mr. Alfred Russel +Wallace is the one the peculiar turn of whose mind best fits him to write +on the subject of natural selection, or the accumulation of fortunate but +accidental variations through descent and the struggle for existence. His +mind in all its more essential characteristics closely resembles that of +the late Mr. Charles Darwin himself, and it is no doubt due to this fact +that he and Mr. Darwin elaborated their famous theory at the same time, +and independently of one another. I shall have occasion in the course of +the following article to show how misled and misleading both these +distinguished men have been, in spite of their unquestionable familiarity +with the whole range of animal and vegetable phenomena. I believe it +will be more respectful to both of them to do this in the most out-spoken +way. I believe their work to have been as mischievous as it has been +valuable, and as valuable as it has been mischievous; and higher, whether +praise or blame, I know not how to give. Nevertheless I would in the +outset, and with the utmost sincerity, admit concerning Messrs. Wallace +and Darwin that neither can be held as the more profound and +conscientious thinker; neither can be put forward as the more ready to +acknowledge obligation to the great writers on evolution who had preceded +him, or to place his own developments in closer and more conspicuous +historical connection with earlier thought upon the subject; neither is +the more ready to welcome criticism and to state his opponent's case in +the most pointed and telling way in which it can be put; neither is the +more quick to encourage new truth; neither is the more genial, generous +adversary, or has the profounder horror of anything even approaching +literary or scientific want of candour; both display the same inimitable +power of putting their opinions forward in the way that shall best ensure +their acceptance; both are equally unrivalled in the tact that tells them +when silence will be golden, and when on the other hand a whole volume of +facts may be advantageously brought forward. Less than the foregoing +tribute both to Messrs. Darwin and Wallace I will not, and more I cannot +pay. + +Let us now turn to the most authoritative exponent of latter-day +evolution--I mean to Mr. Wallace, whose work, entitled "Darwinism," +though it should have been entitled "Wallaceism," is still so far +Darwinistic that it develops the teaching of Mr. Darwin in the direction +given to it by Mr. Darwin himself--so far, indeed, as this can be +ascertained at all--and not in that of Lamarck. Mr. Wallace tells us, on +the first page of his preface, that he has no intention of dealing even +in outline with the vast subject of evolution in general, and has only +tried to give such an account of the theory of natural selection as may +facilitate a clear conception of Darwin's work. How far he has succeeded +is a point on which opinion will probably be divided. Those who find Mr. +Darwin's works clear will also find no difficulty in understanding Mr. +Wallace; those, on the other hand, who find Mr. Darwin puzzling are +little likely to be less puzzled by Mr. Wallace. He continues:-- + +"The objections now made to Darwin's theory apply solely to the +particular means by which the change of species has been brought about, +not to the fact of that change." + +But "Darwin's theory"--as Mr. Wallace has elsewhere proved that he +understands--has no reference "to the fact of that change"--that is to +say, to the fact that species have been modified in course of descent +from other species. This is no more Mr. Darwin's theory than it is the +reader's or my own. Darwin's theory is concerned only with "the +particular means by which the change of species has been brought about"; +his contention being that this is mainly due to the natural survival of +those individuals that have happened by some accident to be born most +favourably adapted to their surroundings, or, in other words, through +accumulation in the common course of nature of the more lucky variations +that chance occasionally purveys. Mr. Wallace's words, then, in reality +amount to this, that the objections now made to Darwin's theory apply +solely to Darwin's theory, which is all very well as far as it goes, but +might have been more easily apprehended if he had simply said, "There are +several objections now made to Mr. Darwin's theory." + +It must be remembered that the passage quoted above occurs on the first +page of a preface dated March 1889, when the writer had completed his +task, and was most fully conversant with his subject. Nevertheless, it +seems indisputable either that he is still confusing evolution with Mr. +Darwin's theory, or that he does not know when his sentences have point +and when they have none. + +I should perhaps explain to some readers that Mr. Darwin did not modify +the main theory put forward, first by Buffon, to whom it indisputably +belongs, and adopted from him by Erasmus Darwin, Lamarck, and many other +writers in the latter half of the last century and the earlier years of +the present. The early evolutionists maintained that all existing forms +of animal and vegetable life, including man, were derived in course of +descent with modification from forms resembling the lowest now known. + +Mr. Darwin went as far as this, and farther no one can go. The point at +issue between him and his predecessors involves neither the main fact of +evolution, nor yet the geometrical ratio of increase, and the struggle +for existence consequent thereon. Messrs. Darwin and Wallace have each +thrown invaluable light upon these last two points, but Buffon, as early +as 1756, had made them the keystone of his system. "The movement of +nature," he then wrote, "turns on two immovable pivots: one, the +illimitable fecundity which she has given to all species: the other, the +innumerable difficulties which reduce the results of that fecundity." +Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck followed in the same sense. They thus admit +the survival of the fittest as fully as Mr. Darwin himself, though they +do not make use of this particular expression. The dispute turns not +upon natural selection, which is common to all writers on evolution, but +upon the nature and causes of the variations that are supposed to be +selected from and thus accumulated. Are these mainly attributable to the +inherited effects of use and disuse, supplemented by occasional sports +and happy accidents? Or are they mainly due to sports and happy +accidents, supplemented by occasional inherited effects of use and +disuse? + +The Lamarckian system has all along been maintained by Mr. Herbert +Spencer, who, in his "Principles of Biology," published in 1865, showed +how impossible it was that accidental variations should accumulate at +all. I am not sure how far Mr. Spencer would consent to being called a +Lamarckian pure and simple, nor yet how far it is strictly accurate to +call him one; nevertheless, I can see no important difference in the main +positions taken by him and by Lamarck. + +The question at issue between the Lamarckians, supported by Mr. Spencer +and a growing band of those who have risen in rebellion against the +Charles-Darwinian system on the one hand, and Messrs. Darwin and Wallace +with the greater number of our more prominent biologists on the other, +involves the very existence of evolution as a workable theory. For it is +plain that what Nature can be supposed able to do by way of choice must +depend on the supply of the variations from which she is supposed to +choose. She cannot take what is not offered to her; and so again she +cannot be supposed able to accumulate unless what is gained in one +direction in one generation, or series of generations, is little likely +to be lost in those that presently succeed. Now variations ascribed +mainly to use and disuse can be supposed capable of being accumulated, +for use and disuse are fairly constant for long periods among the +individuals of the same species, and often over large areas; moreover, +conditions of existence involving changes of habit, and thus of +organisation, come for the most part gradually; so that time is given +during which the organism can endeavour to adapt itself in the requisite +respects, instead of being shocked out of existence by too sudden change. +Variations, on the other hand, that are ascribed to mere chance cannot be +supposed as likely to be accumulated, for chance is notoriously +inconstant, and would not purvey the variations in sufficiently unbroken +succession, or in a sufficient number of individuals, modified similarly +in all the necessary correlations at the same time and place to admit of +their being accumulated. It is vital therefore to the theory of +evolution, as was early pointed out by the late Professor Fleeming Jenkin +and by Mr. Herbert Spencer, that variations should be supposed to have a +definite and persistent principle underlying them, which shall tend to +engender similar and simultaneous modification, however small, in the +vast majority of individuals composing any species. The existence of +such a principle and its permanence is the only thing that can be +supposed capable of acting as rudder and compass to the accumulation of +variations, and of making it hold steadily on one course for each +species, till eventually many havens, far remote from one another, are +safely reached. + +It is obvious that the having fatally impaired the theory of his +predecessors could not warrant Mr. Darwin in claiming, as he most +fatuously did, the theory of evolution. That he is still generally +believed to have been the originator of this theory is due to the fact +that he claimed it, and that a powerful literary backing at once came +forward to support him. It seems at first sight improbable that those +who too zealously urged his claims were unaware that so much had been +written on the subject, but when we find even Mr. Wallace himself as +profoundly ignorant on this subject as he still either is, or affects to +be, there is no limit assignable to the ignorance or affected ignorance +of the kind of biologists who would write reviews in leading journals +thirty years ago. Mr. Wallace writes:-- + +"A few great naturalists, struck by the very slight difference between +many of these species, and the numerous links that exist between the most +different forms of animals and plants, and also observing that a great +many species do vary considerably in their forms, colours and habits, +conceived the idea that they might be all produced one from the other. +The most eminent of these writers was a great French naturalist, Lamarck, +who published an elaborate work, the _Philosophie Zoologique_, in which +he endeavoured to prove that all animals whatever are descended from +other species of animals. He attributed the change of species chiefly to +the effect of changes in the conditions of life--such as climate, food, +&c.; and especially to the desires and efforts of the animals themselves +to improve their condition, leading to a modification of form or size in +certain parts, owing to the well-known physiological law that all organs +are strengthened by constant use, while they are weakened or even +completely lost by disuse . . . + +"The only other important work dealing with the question was the +celebrated 'Vestiges of Creation,' published anonymously, but now +acknowledged to have been written by the late Robert Chambers." + +None are so blind as those who will not see, and it would be waste of +time to argue with the invincible ignorance of one who thinks Lamarck and +Buffon conceived that all species were produced from one another, more +especially as I have already dealt at some length with the early +evolutionists in my work, "Evolution, Old and New," first published ten +years ago, and not, so far as I am aware, detected in serious error or +omission. If, however, Mr. Wallace still thinks it safe to presume so +far on the ignorance of his readers as to say that the only two important +works on evolution before Mr. Darwin's were Lamarck's _Philosophie +Zoologique_ and the "Vestiges of Creation," how fathomable is the +ignorance of the average reviewer likely to have been thirty years ago, +when the "Origin of Species" was first published? Mr. Darwin claimed +evolution as his own theory. Of course, he would not claim it if he had +no right to it. Then by all means give him the credit of it. This was +the most natural view to take, and it was generally taken. It was not, +moreover, surprising that people failed to appreciate all the niceties of +Mr. Darwin's "distinctive feature" which, whether distinctive or no, was +assuredly not distinct, and was never frankly contrasted with the older +view, as it would have been by one who wished it to be understood and +judge upon its merits. It was in consequence of this omission that +people failed to note how fast and loose Mr. Darwin played with his +distinctive feature, and how readily he dropped it on occasion. + +It may be said that the question of what was thought by the predecessors +of Mr. Darwin is, after all, personal, and of no interest to the general +public, comparable to that of the main issue--whether we are to accept +evolution or not. Granted that Buffon, Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck bore +the burden and heat of the day before Mr. Charles Darwin was born, they +did not bring people round to their opinion, whereas Mr. Darwin and Mr. +Wallace did, and the public cannot be expected to look beyond this broad +and indisputable fact. + +The answer to this is, that the theory which Messrs. Darwin and Wallace +have persuaded the public to accept is demonstrably false, and that the +opponents of evolution are certain in the end to triumph over it. Paley, +in his "Natural Theology," long since brought forward far too much +evidence of design in animal organisation to allow of our setting down +its marvels to the accumulations of fortunate accident, undirected by +will, effort and intelligence. Those who examine the main facts of +animal and vegetable organisation without bias will, no doubt, ere long +conclude that all animals and vegetables are derived ultimately from +unicellular organisms, but they will not less readily perceive that the +evolution of species without the concomitance and direction of mind and +effort is as inconceivable as is the independent creation of every +individual species. The two facts, evolution and design, are equally +patent to plain people. There is no escaping from either. According to +Messrs. Darwin and Wallace, we may have evolution, but are on no account +to have it as mainly due to intelligent effort, guided by ever higher and +higher range of sensations, perceptions, and ideas. We are to set it +down to the shuffling of cards, or the throwing of dice without the play, +and this will never stand. + +According to the older men, cards did indeed count for much, but play +counted for more. They denied the teleology of the time--that is to say, +the teleology that saw all adaptation to surroundings as part of a plan +devised long ages since by a quasi-anthropomorphic being who schemed +everything out much as a man would do, but on an infinitely vaster scale. +This conception they found repugnant alike to intelligence and +conscience, but, though they do not seem to have perceived it, they left +the door open for a design more true and more demonstrable than that +which they excluded. By making their variations mainly due to effort and +intelligence, they made organic development run on all-fours with human +progress, and with inventions which we have watched growing up from small +beginnings. They made the development of man from the amoeba part and +parcel of the story that may be read, though on an infinitely smaller +scale, in the development of our most powerful marine engines from the +common kettle, or of our finest microscopes from the dew-drop. + +The development of the steam-engine and the microscope is due to +intelligence and design, which did indeed utilise chance suggestions, but +which improved on these, and directed each step of their accumulation, +though never foreseeing more than a step or two ahead, and often not so +much as this. The fact, as I have elsewhere urged, that the man who made +the first kettle did not foresee the engines of the _Great Eastern_, or +that he who first noted the magnifying power of the dew-drop had no +conception of our present microscopes--the very limited amount, in fact, +of design and intelligence that was called into play at any one +point--this does not make us deny that the steam-engine and microscope +owe their development to design. If each step of the road was designed, +the whole journey was designed, though the particular end was not +designed when the journey was begun. And so is it, according to the +older view of evolution, with the development of those living organs, or +machines, that are born with us, as part of the perambulating carpenter's +chest we call our bodies. The older view gives us our design, and gives +us our evolution too. If it refuses to see a quasi-anthropomorphic God +modelling each species from without as a potter models clay, it gives us +God as vivifying and indwelling in all His creatures--He in them, and +they in Him. If it refuses to see God outside the universe, it equally +refuses to see any part of the universe as outside God. If it makes the +universe the body of God, it also makes God the soul of the universe. The +question at issue, then, between the Darwinism of Erasmus Darwin and the +neo-Darwinism of his grandson, is not a personal one, nor anything like a +personal one. It not only involves the existence of evolution, but it +affects the view we take of life and things in an endless variety of most +interesting and important ways. It is imperative, therefore, on those +who take any interest in these matters, to place side by side in the +clearest contrast the views of those who refer the evolution of species +mainly to accumulation of variations that have no other inception than +chance, and of that older school which makes design perceive and develop +still further the goods that chance provides. + +But over and above this, which would be in itself sufficient, the +historical mode of studying any question is the only one which will +enable us to comprehend it effectually. The personal element cannot be +eliminated from the consideration of works written by living persons for +living persons. We want to know who is who--whom we can depend upon to +have no other end than the making things clear to himself and his +readers, and whom we should mistrust as having an ulterior aim on which +he is more intent than on the furthering of our better understanding. We +want to know who is doing his best to help us, and who is only trying to +make us help him, or to bolster up the system in which his interests are +vested. There is nothing that will throw more light upon these points +than the way in which a man behaves towards those who have worked in the +same field with himself, and, again, than his style. A man's style, as +Buffon long since said, is the man himself. By style, I do not, of +course, mean grammar or rhetoric, but that style of which Buffon again +said that it is like happiness, and _vient de la douceur de l'ame_. When +we find a man concealing worse than nullity of meaning under sentences +that sound plausibly enough, we should distrust him much as we should a +fellow-traveller whom we caught trying to steal our watch. We often +cannot judge of the truth or falsehood of facts for ourselves, but we +most of us know enough of human nature to be able to tell a good witness +from a bad one. + +However this may be, and whatever we may think of judging systems by the +directness or indirectness of those who advance them, biologists, having +committed themselves too rashly, would have been more than human if they +had not shown some pique towards those who dared to say, first, that the +theory of Messrs. Darwin and Wallace was unworkable; and secondly, that +even though it were workable it would not justify either of them in +claiming evolution. When biologists show pique at all they generally +show a good deal of pique, but pique or no pique, they shunned Mr. +Spencer's objection above referred to with a persistency more unanimous +and obstinate than I ever remember to have seen displayed even by +professional truth-seekers. I find no rejoinder to it from Mr. Darwin +himself, between 1865 when it was first put forward, and 1882 when Mr. +Darwin died. It has been similarly "ostrichised" by all the leading +apologists of Darwinism, so far at least as I have been able to observe, +and I have followed the matter closely for many years. Mr. Spencer has +repeated and amplified it in his recent work, "The Factors of Organic +Evolution," but it still remains without so much as an attempt at serious +answer, for the perfunctory and illusory remarks of Mr. Wallace at the +end of his "Darwinism" cannot be counted as such. The best proof of its +irresistible weight is that Mr. Darwin, though maintaining silence in +respect to it, retreated from his original position in the direction that +would most obviate Mr. Spencer's objection. + +Yet this objection has been repeatedly urged by the more prominent anti- +Charles-Darwinian authorities, and there is no sign that the British +public is becoming less rigorous in requiring people either to reply to +objections repeatedly urged by men of even moderate weight, or to let +judgment go by default. As regards Mr. Darwin's claim to the theory of +evolution generally, Darwinians are beginning now to perceive that this +cannot be admitted, and either say with some hardihood that Mr. Darwin +never claimed it, or after a few saving clauses to the effect that this +theory refers only to the particular means by which evolution has been +brought about, imply forthwith thereafter none the less that evolution is +Mr. Darwin's theory. Mr. Wallace has done this repeatedly in his recent +"Darwinism." Indeed, I should be by no means sure that on the first page +of his preface, in the passage about "Darwin's theory," which I have +already somewhat severely criticised, he was not intending evolution by +"Darwin's theory," if in his preceding paragraph he had not so clearly +shown that he knew evolution to be a theory of greatly older date than +Mr. Darwin's. + +The history of science--well exemplified by that of the development +theory--is the history of eminent men who have fought against light and +have been worsted. The tenacity with which Darwinians stick to their +accumulation of fortuitous variations is on a par with the like tenacity +shown by the illustrious Cuvier, who did his best to crush evolution +altogether. It always has been thus, and always will be; nor is it +desirable in the interests of Truth herself that it should be otherwise. +Truth is like money--lightly come, lightly go; and if she cannot hold her +own against even gross misrepresentation, she is herself not worth +holding. Misrepresentation in the long run makes Truth as much as it +mars her; hence our law courts do not think it desirable that pleaders +should speak their _bona fide_ opinions, much less that they should +profess to do so. Rather let each side hoodwink judge and jury as best +it can, and let truth flash out from collision of defence and accusation. +When either side will not collide, it is an axiom of controversy that it +desires to prevent the truth from being elicited. + +Let us now note the courses forced upon biologists by the difficulties of +Mr. Darwin's distinctive feature. Mr. Darwin and Mr. Wallace, as is well +known, brought the feature forward simultaneously and independently of +one another, but Mr. Wallace always believed in it more firmly than Mr. +Darwin did. Mr. Darwin as a young man did not believe in it. He wrote +before 1889, "Nature, by making habit omnipotent and its effects +hereditary, has fitted the Fuegian for the climate and productions of his +country," {21} a sentence than which nothing can coincide more fully with +the older view that use and disuse were the main purveyors of variations, +or conflict more fatally with his own subsequent distinctive feature. +Moreover, as I showed in my last work on evolution, {22} in the +peroration to his "Origin of Species," he discarded his accidental +variations altogether, and fell back on the older theory, so that the +body of the "Origin of Species" supports one theory, and the peroration +another that differs from it _toto coelo_. Finally, in his later +editions, he retreated indefinitely from his original position, edging +always more and more continually towards the theory of his grandfather +and Lamarck. These facts convince me that he was at no time a thorough- +going Darwinian, but was throughout an unconscious Lamarckian, though +ever anxious to conceal the fact alike from himself and from his readers. + +Not so with Mr. Wallace, who was both more outspoken in the first +instance, and who has persevered along the path of Wallaceism just as Mr. +Darwin with greater sagacity was ever on the retreat from Darwinism. Mr. +Wallace's profounder faith led him in the outset to place his theory in +fuller daylight than Mr. Darwin was inclined to do. Mr. Darwin just +waved Lamarck aside, and said as little about him as he could, while in +his earlier editions Erasmus Darwin and Buffon were not so much as named. +Mr. Wallace, on the contrary, at once raised the Lamarckian spectre, and +declared it exorcised. He said the Lamarckian hypothesis was "quite +unnecessary." The giraffe did not "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 shorter-necked companions, and on +the first scarcity of food were thus enabled to outlive them." {23} + +"Which occurred" is evidently "which happened to occur" by some chance or +accident unconnected with use and disuse. The word "accident" is never +used, but Mr. Wallace must be credited with this instance of a desire to +give his readers a chance of perceiving that according to his distinctive +feature evolution is an affair of luck, rather than of cunning. Whether +his readers actually did understand this as clearly as Mr. Wallace +doubtless desired that they should, and whether greater development at +this point would not have helped them to fuller apprehension, we need not +now inquire. What was gained in distinctness might have been lost in +distinctiveness, and after all he did technically put us upon our guard. + +Nevertheless he too at a pinch takes refuge in Lamarckism. In relation +to the manner in which the eyes of soles, turbots, and other flat-fish +travel round the head so as to become in the end unsymmetrically placed, +he says:-- + +"The eyes of these fish are curiously distorted in order that both eyes +may be upon the upper side, where alone they would be of any use. . . . +Now if we suppose this process, which in the young is completed in a few +days or weeks, to have been spread over thousands of generations during +the development of these fish, those usually surviving _whose eyes +retained more and more of the position into which the young fish tried to +twist them_ [italics mine], the change becomes intelligible." {24} When +it was said by Professor Ray Lankester--who knows as well as most people +what Lamarck taught--that this was "flat Lamarckism," Mr. Wallace +rejoined that it was the survival of the modified individuals that did it +all, not the efforts of the young fish to twist their eyes, and the +transmission to descendants of the effects of those efforts. But this, +as I said in my book, "Evolution, Old and New," {25} is like saying that +horses are swift runners, not by reason of the causes, whatever they +were, that occasioned the direct line of their progenitors to vary +towards ever greater and greater swiftness, but because their more slow- +going uncles and aunts go away. Plain people will prefer to say that the +main cause of any accumulation of favourable modifications consists +rather in that which brings about the initial variations, and in the fact +that these can be inherited at all, than in the fact that the unmodified +individuals were not successful. People do not become rich because the +poor in large numbers go away, but because they have been lucky, or +provident, or more commonly both. If they would keep their wealth when +they have made it they must exclude luck thenceforth to the utmost of +their power, and their children must follow their example, or they will +soon lose their money. The fact that the weaker go to the wall does not +bring about the greater strength of the stronger; it is the consequence +of this last and not the cause--unless, indeed, it be contended that a +knowledge that the weak go to the wall stimulates the strong to exertions +which they would not otherwise so make, and that these exertions produce +inheritable modifications. Even in this case, however, it would be the +exertions, or use and disuse, that would be the main agents in the +modification. But it is not often that Mr. Wallace thus backslides. His +present position is that acquired (as distinguished from congenital) +modifications are not inherited at all. He does not indeed put his faith +prominently forward and pin himself to it as plainly as could be wished, +but under the heading, "The Non-Heredity of Acquired Characters," he +writes as follows on p. 440 of his recent work in reference to Professor +Weismann's Theory of Heredity:-- + +"Certain observations on the embryology of the lower animals are held to +afford direct proof of this theory of heredity, but they are too +technical to be made clear to ordinary readers. A logical result of the +theory is the impossibility of the transmission of acquired characters, +since the molecular structure of the germ-plasm is already determined +within the embryo; and Weismann holds that there are no facts which +really prove that acquired characters can be inherited, although their +inheritance has, by most writers, been considered so probable as hardly +to stand in need of direct proof. + +"We have already seen in the earlier part of this chapter that many +instances of change, imputed to the inheritance of acquired variations, +are really cases of selection." + +And the rest of the remarks tend to convey the impression that Mr. +Wallace adopts Professor Weismann's view, but, curiously enough, though I +have gone through Mr. Wallace's book with a special view to this +particular point, I have not been able to find him definitely committing +himself either to the assertion that acquired modifications never are +inherited, or that they sometimes are so. It is abundantly laid down +that Mr. Darwin laid too much stress on use and disuse, and a residuary +impression is left that Mr. Wallace is endorsing Professor Weismann's +view, but I have found it impossible to collect anything that enables me +to define his position confidently in this respect. + +This is natural enough, for Mr. Wallace has entitled his book +"Darwinism," and a work denying that use and disuse produced any effect +could not conceivably be called Darwinism. Mr. Herbert Spencer has +recently collected many passages from "The Origin of Species" and from +"Animals and Plants under Domestication," {26} which show how largely, +after all, use and disuse entered into Mr. Darwin's system, and we know +that in his later years he attached still more importance to them. It +was out of the question, therefore, that Mr. Wallace should categorically +deny that their effects were inheritable. On the other hand, the +temptation to adopt Professor Weismann's view must have been overwhelming +to one who had been already inclined to minimise the effects of use and +disuse. On the whole, one does not see what Mr. Wallace could do, other +than what he has done--unless, of course, he changed his title, or had +been no longer Mr. Wallace. + +Besides, thanks to the works of Mr. Spencer, Professor Mivart, Professor +Semper, and very many others, there has for some time been a growing +perception that the Darwinism of Charles Darwin was doomed. Use and +disuse must either do even more than is officially recognised in Mr. +Darwin's later concessions, or they must do a great deal less. If they +can do as much as Mr. Darwin himself said they did, why should they not +do more? Why stop where Mr. Darwin did? And again, where in the name of +all that is reasonable did he really stop? He drew no line, and on what +principle can we say that so much is possible as effect of use and +disuse, but so much more impossible? If, as Mr. Darwin contended, disuse +can so far reduce an organ as to render it rudimentary, and in many cases +get rid of it altogether, why cannot use create as much as disuse can +destroy, provided it has anything, no matter how low in structure, to +begin with? Let us know where we stand. If it is admitted that use and +disuse can do a good deal, what does a good deal mean? And what is the +proportion between the shares attributable to use and disuse and to +natural selection respectively? If we cannot be told with absolute +precision, let us at any rate have something more definite than the +statement that natural selection is "the most important means of +modification." + +Mr. Darwin gave us no help in this respect; and worse than this, he +contradicted himself so flatly as to show that he had very little +definite idea upon the subject at all. Thus in respect to the +winglessness of the Madeira beetles he wrote:-- + +"In some cases we might easily put down to disuse modifications of +structure, which are wholly or mainly due to natural selection. Mr. +Wollaston has discovered the remarkable fact that 200 beetles, out of the +550 species (but more are now known) inhabiting Madeira, are so far +deficient in wings that they cannot fly; and that of the 29 endemic +genera no less than 23 have all their species in this condition! Several +facts,--namely, that beetles in many parts of the world are frequently +blown out to sea and perish; that the beetles in Madeira, as observed by +Mr. Wollaston, lie much concealed until the wind lulls and the sun +shines; that the proportion of wingless beetles is larger on the exposed +Desertas than in Madeira itself; and especially the extraordinary fact, +so strongly insisted on by Mr. Wollaston, that certain large groups of +beetles, elsewhere excessively numerous, which absolutely require the use +of their wings are here almost entirely absent;--these several +considerations make me believe that the wingless condition of so many +Madeira beetles is mainly due to the action of natural selection, +_combined probably with disuse_ [italics mine]. For during many +successive generations each individual beetle which flew least, either +from its wings having been ever so little less perfectly developed or +from indolent habit, will have had the best chance of surviving, from not +being blown out to sea; and, on the other hand, those beetles which most +readily took to flight would oftenest have been blown to sea, and thus +destroyed." {27} + +We should like to know, first, somewhere about how much disuse was able +to do after all, and moreover why, if it can do anything at all, it +should not be able to do all. Mr. Darwin says: "Any change in structure +and function which can be effected by small stages is within the power of +natural selection." "And why not," we ask, "within the power of use and +disuse?" Moreover, on a later page we find Mr. Darwin saying:-- + +"_It appears probable that disuse has been the main agent in rendering +organs rudimentary_ [italics mine]. It would at first lead by slow steps +to the more and more complete reduction of a part, until at last it has +become rudimentary--as in the case of the eyes of animals inhabiting dark +caverns, and of the wings of birds inhabiting oceanic islands, which have +seldom been forced by beasts of prey to take flight, and have ultimately +lost the power of flying. Again, an organ, useful under certain +conditions, might become injurious under others, _as with the wings of +beetles living on small and exposed islands_; and in this case natural +selection will have aided in reducing the organ, until it was rendered +harmless and rudimentary [italics mine]." {28} + +So that just as an undefined amount of use and disuse was introduced on +the earlier page to supplement the effects of natural selection in +respect of the wings of beetles on small and exposed islands, we have +here an undefined amount of natural selection introduced to supplement +the effects of use and disuse in respect of the identical phenomena. In +the one passage we find that natural selection has been the main agent in +reducing the wings, though use and disuse have had an appreciable share +in the result; in the other, it is use and disuse that have been the main +agents, though an appreciable share in the result must be ascribed to +natural selection. + +Besides, who has seen the uncles and aunts going away with the uniformity +that is necessary for Mr. Darwin's contention? We know that birds and +insects do often get blown out to sea and perish, but in order to +establish Mr. Darwin's position we want the evidence of those who watched +the reduction of the wings during the many generations in the course of +which it was being effected, and who can testify that all, or the +overwhelming majority, of the beetles born with fairly well-developed +wings got blown out to sea, while those alone survived whose wings were +congenitally degenerate. Who saw them go, or can point to analogous +cases so conclusive as to compel assent from any equitable thinker? + +Darwinians of the stamp of Mr. Thiselton Dyer, Professor Ray Lankester, +or Mr. Romanes, insist on their pound of flesh in the matter of +irrefragable demonstration. They complain of us for not bringing forward +some one who has been able to detect the movement of the hour-hand of a +watch during a second of time, and when we fail to do so, declare +triumphantly that we have no evidence that there is any connection +between the beating of a second and the movement of the hour-hand. When +we say that rain comes from the condensation of moisture in the +atmosphere, they demand of us a rain-drop from moisture not yet +condensed. If they stickle for proof and cavil on the ninth part of a +hair, as they do when we bring forward what we deem excellent instances +of the transmission of an acquired characteristic, why may not we, too, +demand at any rate some evidence that the unmodified beetles actually did +always, or nearly always, get blown out to sea, during the reduction +above referred to, and that it is to this fact, and not to the masterly +inactivity of their fathers and mothers, that the Madeira beetles owe +their winglessness? If we began stickling for proof in this way, our +opponents would not be long in letting us know that absolute proof is +unattainable on any subject, that reasonable presumption is our highest +certainty, and that crying out for too much evidence is as bad as +accepting too little. Truth is like a photographic sensitised plate, +which is equally ruined by over and by under exposure, and the just +exposure for which can never be absolutely determined. + +Surely if disuse can be credited with the vast powers involved in Mr. +Darwin's statement that it has probably "been the main agent in rendering +organs rudimentary," no limits are assignable to the accumulated effects +of habit, provided the effects of habit, or use and disuse, are supposed, +as Mr. Darwin supposed them, to be inheritable at all. Darwinians have +at length woke up to the dilemma in which they are placed by the manner +in which Mr. Darwin tried to sit on the two stools of use and disuse, and +natural selection of accidental variations, at the same time. The knell +of Charles-Darwinism is rung in Mr. Wallace's present book, and in the +general perception on the part of biologists that we must either assign +to use and disuse such a predominant share in modification as to make it +the feature most proper to be insisted on, or deny that the +modifications, whether of mind or body, acquired during a single +lifetime, are ever transmitted at all. If they can be inherited at all, +they can be accumulated. If they can be accumulated at all, they can be +so, for anything that appears to the contrary, to the extent of the +specific and generic differences with which we are surrounded. The only +thing to do is to pluck them out root and branch: they are as a cancer +which, if the smallest fibre be left unexcised, will grow again, and kill +any system on to which it is allowed to fasten. Mr. Wallace, therefore, +may well be excused if he casts longing eyes towards Weismannism. + +And what was Mr. Darwin's system? Who can make head or tail of the +inextricable muddle in which he left it? The "Origin of Species" in its +latest shape is the reduction of hedging to an absurdity. How did Mr. +Darwin himself leave it in the last chapter of the last edition of the +"Origin of Species"? He wrote:-- + +"I have now recapitulated the facts and considerations which have +thoroughly convinced me that species have been modified during a long +course of descent. This has been effected chiefly through the natural +selection of numerous, successive, slight, favourable variations; aided +in an important manner by the inherited effects of the use and disuse of +parts, and in an unimportant manner--that is, in relation to adaptive +structures whether past or present--by the direct action of external +conditions, and by variations which seem to us in our ignorance to arise +spontaneously. It appears that I formerly underrated the frequency and +value of these latter forms of variation, as leading to permanent +modifications of structure independently of natural selection." + +The "numerous, successive, slight, favourable variations" above referred +to are intended to be fortuitous, accidental, spontaneous. It is the +essence of Mr. Darwin's theory that this should be so. Mr. Darwin's +solemn statement, therefore, of his theory, after he had done his best or +his worst with it, is, when stripped of surplusage, as follows:-- + +"The modification of species has been mainly effected by accumulation of +spontaneous variations; it has been aided in an important manner by +accumulation of variations due to use and disuse, and in an unimportant +manner by spontaneous variations; I do not even now think that +spontaneous variations have been very important, but I used once to think +them less important than I do now." + +It is a discouraging symptom of the age that such a system should have +been so long belauded, and it is a sign of returning intelligence that +even he who has been more especially the _alter ego_ of Mr. Darwin should +have felt constrained to close the chapter of Charles-Darwinism as a +living theory, and relegate it to the important but not very creditable +place in history which it must henceforth occupy. It is astonishing, +however, that Mr. Wallace should have quoted the extract from the "Origin +of Species" just given, as he has done on p. 412 of his "Darwinism," +without betraying any sign that he has caught its driftlessness--for +drift, other than a desire to hedge, it assuredly has not got. The +battle now turns on the question whether modifications of either +structure or instinct due to use or disuse are ever inherited, or whether +they are not. Can the effects of habit be transmitted to progeny at all? +We know that more usually they are not transmitted to any perceptible +extent, but we believe also that occasionally, and indeed not +infrequently, they are inherited and even intensified. What are our +grounds for this opinion? It will be my object to put these forward in +the following number of the _Universal Review_. + + + +THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM--PART II {29} + + +At the close of my article in last month's number of the _Universal +Review_, I said I would in this month's issue show why the opponents of +Charles-Darwinism believe the effects of habits acquired during the +lifetime of a parent to produce an effect on their subsequent offspring, +in spite of the fact that we can rarely find the effect in any one +generation, or even in several, sufficiently marked to arrest our +attention. + +I will now show that offspring can be, and not very infrequently is, +affected by occurrences that have produced a deep impression on the +parent organism--the effect produced on the offspring being such as +leaves no doubt that it is to be connected with the impression produced +on the parent. Having thus established the general proposition, I will +proceed to the more particular one--that habits, involving use and disuse +of special organs, with the modifications of structure thereby +engendered, produce also an effect upon offspring, which, though seldom +perceptible as regards structure in a single, or even in several +generations, is nevertheless capable of being accumulated in successive +generations till it amounts to specific and generic difference. I have +found the first point as much as I can treat within the limits of this +present article, and will avail myself of the hospitality of the +_Universal Review_ next month to deal with the second. + +The proposition which I have to defend is one which no one till recently +would have questioned, and even now, those who look most askance at it do +not venture to dispute it unreservedly; they every now and then admit it +as conceivable, and even in some cases probable; nevertheless they seek +to minimise it, and to make out that there is little or no connection +between the great mass of the cells of which the body is composed, and +those cells that are alone capable of reproducing the entire organism. +The tendency is to assign to these last a life of their own, apart from, +and unconnected with that of the other cells of the body, and to cheapen +all evidence that tends to prove any response on their part to the past +history of the individual, and hence ultimately of the race. + +Professor Weismann is the foremost exponent of those who take this line. +He has naturally been welcomed by English Charles-Darwinians; for if his +view can be sustained, then it can be contended that use and disuse +produce no transmissible effect, and the ground is cut from under +Lamarck's feet; if, on the other hand, his view is unfounded, the +Lamarckian reaction, already strong, will gain still further strength. +The issue, therefore, is important, and is being fiercely contested by +those who have invested their all of reputation for discernment in +Charles-Darwinian securities. + +Professor Weismann's theory is, that at every new birth a part of the +substance which proceeds from parents and which goes to form the new +embryo is not used up in forming the new animal, but remains apart to +generate the germ-cells--or perhaps I should say "germ-plasm"--which the +new animal itself will in due course issue. + +Contrasting the generally received view with his own, Professor Weismann +says that according to the first of these "the organism produces germ- +cells afresh again and again, and that it produces them entirely from its +own substance." While by the second "the germ-cells are no longer looked +upon as the product of the parent's body, at least as far as their +essential part--the specific germ-plasm--is concerned; they are rather +considered as something which is to be placed in contrast with the _tout +ensemble_ of the cells which make up the parent's body, and the +germ-cells of succeeding generations stand in a similar relation to one +another as a series of generations of unicellular organisms arising by a +continued process of cell-division." {30} + +On another page he writes:-- + +"I believe that heredity depends upon the fact that a small portion of +the effective substance of the germ, the germ-plasm, remains unchanged +during the development of the ovum into an organism, and that this part +of the germ-plasm serves as a foundation from which the germ-cells of the +new organism are produced. There is, therefore, continuity of the germ- +plasm from one generation to another. One might represent the germ-plasm +by the metaphor of a long creeping root-stock from which plants arise at +intervals, these latter representing the individuals of successive +generations." {31} + +Mr. Wallace, who does not appear to have read Professor Weismann's essays +themselves, but whose remarks are, no doubt, ultimately derived from the +sequel to the passage just quoted from page 266 of Professor Weismann's +book, contends that the impossibility of the transmission of acquired +characters follows as a logical result from Professor Weismann's theory, +inasmuch as the molecular structure of the germ-plasm that will go to +form any succeeding generation is already predetermined within the still +unformed embryo of its predecessor; "and Weismann," continues Mr. +Wallace, "holds that there are no facts which really prove that acquired +characters can be inherited, although their inheritance has, by most +writers, been considered so probable as hardly to stand in need of direct +proof." {32} + +Professor Weismann, in passages too numerous to quote, shows that he +recognises this necessity, and acknowledges that the non-transmission of +acquired characters "forms the foundation of the views" set forth in his +book, p. 291. + +Professor Ray Lankester does not commit himself absolutely to this view, +but lends it support by saying (_Nature_, December 12, 1889): "It is +hardly necessary to say that it has never yet been shown experimentally +that _anything_ acquired by one generation is transmitted to the next +(putting aside diseases)." + +Mr. Romanes, writing in _Nature_, March 18, 1890, and opposing certain +details of Professor Weismann's theory, so far supports it as to say that +"there is the gravest possible doubt lying against the supposition that +any really inherited decrease is due to the inherited effects of disuse." +The "gravest possible doubt" should mean that Mr. Romanes regards it as a +moral certainty that disuse has no transmitted effect in reducing an +organ, and it should follow that he holds use to have no transmitted +effect in its development. The sequel, however, makes me uncertain how +far Mr. Romanes intends this, and I would refer the reader to the article +which Mr. Romanes has just published on Weismann in the _Contemporary +Review_ for this current month. + +The burden of Mr. Thiselton Dyer's controversy with the Duke of Argyll +(see _Nature_, January 16, 1890, _et seq._) was that there was no +evidence in support of the transmission of any acquired modification. The +orthodoxy of science, therefore, must be held as giving at any rate a +provisional support to Professor Weismann, but all of them, including +even Professor Weismann himself, shrink from committing themselves to the +opinion that the germ-cells of any organisms remain in all cases +unaffected by the events that occur to the other cells of the same +organism, and until they do this they have knocked the bottom out of +their case. + +From among the passages in which Professor Weismann himself shows a +desire to hedge I may take the following from page 170 of his book:-- + +"I am also far from asserting that the germ-plasm which, as I hold, is +transmitted as the basis of heredity from one generation to another, is +absolutely unchangeable or totally uninfluenced by forces residing in the +organism within which it is transformed into germ-cells. I am also +compelled to admit it as conceivable that organisms may exert a modifying +influence upon their germ-cells, and even that such a process is to a +certain extent inevitable. The nutrition and growth of the individual +must exercise some influence upon its germ-cells . . . " + +Professor Weismann does indeed go on to say that this influence must be +extremely slight, but we do not care how slight the changes produced may +be provided they exist and can be transmitted. On an earlier page (p. +101) he said in regard to variations generally that we should not expect +to find them conspicuous; their frequency would be enough, if they could +be accumulated. The same applies here, if stirring events that occur to +the somatic cells can produce any effect at all on offspring. A very +small effect, provided it can be repeated and accumulated in successive +generations, is all that even the most exacting Lamarckian will ask for. + +Having now made the reader acquainted with the position taken by the +leading Charles-Darwinian authorities, I will return to Professor +Weismann himself, who declares that the transmission of acquired +characters "at first sight certainly seems necessary," and that "it +appears rash to attempt to dispense with its aid." He continues:-- + +"Many phenomena only appear to be intelligible if we assume the +hereditary transmission of such acquired characters as the changes which +we ascribe to the use or disuse of particular organs, or to the direct +influence of climate. Furthermore, how can we explain instinct as +hereditary habit, unless it has gradually arisen by the accumulation, +through heredity, of habits which were practised in succeeding +generations?" {33} + +I may say in passing that Professor Weismann appears to suppose that the +view of instinct just given is part of the Charles-Darwinian system, for +on page 889 of his book he says "that many observers had followed Darwin +in explaining them [instincts] as inherited habits." This was not Mr. +Darwin's own view of the matter. He wrote:-- + +"If we suppose any habitual action to become inherited--and I think it +can be shown that this does sometimes happen--then the resemblance +between what originally was a habit and an instinct becomes so close as +not to be distinguished. . . But it would be the most 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. It can be clearly shown that the most wonderful instincts +with which we are acquainted, namely, those of the hive-bee and of many +ants, could not possibly have been thus acquired."--["Origin of Species," +ed., 1859, p. 209.] + +Again we read: "Domestic instincts are sometimes spoken of as actions +which have become inherited solely from long-continued and compulsory +habit, but this, I think, is not true."--_Ibid._, p. 214. + +Again: "I am surprised that no one has advanced this demonstrative case +of neuter insects, against the well-known doctrine of inherited habit, as +advanced by Lamarck."--["Origin of Species," ed. 1872, p. 283.] + +I am not aware that Lamarck advanced the doctrine that instinct is +inherited habit, but he may have done so in some work that I have not +seen. + +It is true, as I have more than once pointed out, that in the later +editions of the "Origin of Species" it is no longer "the _most_ serious" +error to refer instincts generally to inherited habit, but it still +remains "a serious error," and this slight relaxation of severity does +not warrant Professor Weismann in ascribing to Mr. Darwin an opinion +which he emphatically condemned. His tone, however, is so offhand, that +those who have little acquaintance with the literature of evolution would +hardly guess that he is not much better informed on this subject than +themselves. + +Returning to the inheritance of acquired characters, Professor Weismann +says that this has never been proved either by means of direct +observation or by experiment. "It must be admitted," he writes, "that +there are in existence numerous descriptions of cases which tend to prove +that such mutilations as the loss of fingers, the scars of wounds, &c., +are inherited by the offspring, but in these descriptions the previous +history is invariably obscure, and hence the evidence loses all +scientific value." + +The experiments of M. Brown-Sequard throw so much light upon the +question at issue that I will quote at some length from the summary given +by Mr. Darwin in his "Variation of Animals and Plants under +Domestication." {34} Mr. Darwin writes:-- + +"With respect to the inheritance of structures mutilated by injuries or +altered by disease, it was until lately difficult to come to any definite +conclusion." [Then follow several cases in which mutilations practised +for many generations are not found to be transmitted.] "Notwithstanding," +continues Mr. Darwin, "the above several negative cases, we now possess +conclusive evidence that the effects of operations are sometimes +inherited. Dr. Brown-Sequard gives the following summary of his +observations on guinea-pigs, and this summary is so important that I will +quote the whole:-- + +"'1st. Appearance of epilepsy in animals born of parents having been +rendered epileptic by an injury to the spinal cord. + +"'2nd. Appearance of epilepsy also in animals born of parents having +been rendered epileptic by the section of the sciatic nerve. + +"'3rd. A change in the shape of the ear in animals born of parents in +which such a change was the effect of a division of the cervical +sympathetic nerve. + +"'4th. Partial closure of the eyelids in animals born of parents in +which that state of the eyelids had been caused either by the section of +the cervical sympathetic nerve or the removal of the superior cervical +ganglion. + +"'5th. Exophthalmia in animals born of parents in which an injury to the +restiform body had produced that protrusion of the eyeball. This +interesting fact I have witnessed a good many times, and I have seen the +transmission of the morbid state of the eye continue through four +generations. In these animals modified by heredity, the two eyes +generally protruded, although in the parents usually only one showed +exophthalmia, the lesion having been made in most cases only on one of +the corpora restiformia. + +"'6th. Haematoma and dry gangrene of the ears in animals born of parents +in which these ear-alterations had been caused by an injury to the +restiform body near the nib of the calamus. + +"'7th. Absence of two toes out of the three of the hind leg, and +sometimes of the three, in animals whose parents had eaten up their hind- +leg toes which had become anaesthetic from a section of the sciatic nerve +alone, or of that nerve and also of the crural. Sometimes, instead of +complete absence of the toes, only a part of one or two or three was +missing in the young, although in the parent not only the toes but the +whole foot was absent (partly eaten off, partly destroyed by +inflammation, ulceration, or gangrene). + +"'8th. Appearance of various morbid states of the skin and hair of the +neck and face in animals born of parents having had similar alterations +in the same parts, as effects of an injury to the sciatic nerve.' + +"It should be especially observed that Brown-Sequard has bred during +thirty years many thousand guinea-pigs from animals which had not been +operated upon, and not one of these manifested the epileptic tendency. +Nor has he ever seen a guinea-pig born without toes, which was not the +offspring of parents which had gnawed off their own toes owing to the +sciatic nerve having been divided. Of this latter fact thirteen +instances were carefully recorded, and a greater number were seen; yet +Brown-Sequard speaks of such cases as one of the rarer forms of +inheritance. It is a still more interesting fact, 'that the sciatic +nerve in the congenitally toeless animal has inherited the power of +passing through all the different morbid states which have occurred in +one of its parents from the time of the division till after its reunion +with the peripheric end. It is not, therefore, simply the power of +performing an action which is inherited, but the power of performing a +whole series of actions, in a certain order.' + +"In most of the cases of inheritance recorded by Brown-Sequard only one +of the two parents had been operated upon and was affected. He concludes +by expressing his belief that 'what is transmitted is the morbid state of +the nervous system,' due to the operation performed on the parents." + +Mr. Darwin proceeds to give other instances of inherited effects of +mutilations:-- + +"With the horse there seems hardly a doubt that exostoses on the legs, +caused by too much travelling on hard roads, are inherited. Blumenbach +records the case of a man who had his little finger on the right hand +almost cut off, and which in consequence grew crooked, and his sons had +the same finger on the same hand similarly crooked. A soldier, fifteen +years before his marriage, lost his left eye from purulent ophthalmia, +and his two sons were microphthalmic on the same side." + +The late Professor Rolleston, whose competence as an observer no one is +likely to dispute, gave Mr. Darwin two cases as having fallen under his +own notice, one of a man whose knee had been severely wounded, and whose +child was born with the same spot marked or scarred, and the other of one +who was severely cut upon the cheek, and whose child was born scarred in +the same place. Mr. Darwin's conclusion was that "the effects of +injuries, especially when followed by disease, or perhaps exclusively +when thus followed, are occasionally inherited." + +Let us now see what Professor Weismann has to say against this. He +writes:-- + +"The only cases worthy of discussion are the well-known experiments upon +guinea-pigs conducted by the French physiologist, Brown-Sequard. But the +explanation of his results is, in my opinion, open to discussion. In +these cases we have to do with the apparent transmission of artificially +produced malformations . . . All these effects were said to be +transmitted to descendants as far as the fifth or sixth generation. + +"But we must inquire whether these cases are really due to heredity, and +not to simple infection. In the case of epilepsy, at any rate, it is +easy to imagine that the passage of some specific organism through the +reproductive cells may take place, as in the case of syphilis. We are, +however, entirely ignorant of the nature of the former disease. This +suggested explanation may not perhaps apply to the other cases; but we +must remember that animals which have been subjected to such severe +operations upon the nervous system have sustained a great shock, and if +they are capable of breeding, it is only probable that they will produce +weak descendants, and such as are easily affected by disease. Such a +result does not, however, explain why the offspring should suffer from +the same disease as that which was artificially induced in the parents. +But this does not appear to have been by any means invariably the case. +Brown-Sequard himself says: 'The changes in the eye of the offspring were +of a very variable nature, and were only occasionally exactly similar to +those observed in the parents.' + +"There is no doubt, however, that these experiments demand careful +consideration, but before they can claim scientific recognition, they +must be subjected to rigid criticism as to the precautions taken, the +nature and number of the control experiments, &c. + +"Up to the present time such necessary conditions have not been +sufficiently observed. The recent experiments themselves are only +described in short preliminary notices, which, as regards their accuracy, +the possibility of mistake, the precautions taken, and the exact +succession of individuals affected, afford no data on which a scientific +opinion can be founded" (pp. 81, 82). + +The line Professor Weismann takes, therefore, is to discredit the facts; +yet on a later page we find that the experiments have since been repeated +by Obersteiner, "who has described them in a very exact and unprejudiced +manner," and that "the fact"--(I imagine that Professor Weismann intends +"the facts")--"cannot be doubted." + +On a still later page, however, we read:-- + +"If, for instance, it could be shown that artificial mutilation +spontaneously reappears in the offspring with sufficient frequency to +exclude all possibilities of chance, then such proof [_i.e._, that +acquired characters can be transmitted] would be forthcoming. The +transmission of mutilations has been frequently asserted, and has been +even recently again brought forward, but all the supposed instances have +broken down when carefully examined" (p. 390). + +Here, then, we are told that proof of the occasional transmission of +mutilations would be sufficient to establish the fact, but on p. 267 we +find that no single fact is known which really proves that acquired +characters can be transmitted, "_for the ascertained facts which seem to +point to the transmission of artificially produced diseases cannot be +considered as proof_" [Italics mine.] Perhaps; but it was mutilation in +many cases that Professor Weismann practically admitted to have been +transmitted when he declared that Obersteiner had verified +Brown-Sequard's experiments. + +That Professor Weismann recognises the vital importance to his own theory +of the question whether or no mutilations can be transmitted under any +circumstances, is evident from a passage on p. 425 of his work, on which +he says: "It can hardly be doubted that mutilations are acquired +characters; they do not arise from any tendency contained in the germ, +but are merely the reaction of the body under certain external +influences. They are, as I have recently expressed it, purely +somatogenic characters--viz., characters which emanate from the body +(_soma_) only, as opposed to the germ-cells; they are, therefore, +characters that do not arise from the germ itself. + +"If mutilations must necessarily be transmitted" [which no one that I +know of has maintained], "or even if they might occasionally be +transmitted" [which cannot, I imagine, be reasonably questioned], "a +powerful support would be given to the Lamarckian principle, and the +transmission of functional hypertrophy or atrophy would thus become +highly probable." + +I have not found any further attempt in Professor Weismann's book to deal +with the evidence adduced by Mr. Darwin to show that mutilations, if +followed by diseases, are sometimes inherited; and I must leave it to the +reader to determine how far Professor Weismann has shown reason for +rejecting Mr. Darwin's conclusion. I do not, however, dwell upon these +facts now as evidence of a transmitted change of bodily form, or of +instinct due to use and disuse or habit; what they prove is that the germ- +cells within the parent's body do not stand apart from the other cells of +the body so completely as Professor Weismann would have us believe, but +that, as Professor Hering, of Prague, has aptly said, they echo with more +or less frequency and force to the profounder impressions made upon other +cells. + +I may say that Professor Weismann does not more cavalierly wave aside the +mass of evidence collected by Mr. Darwin and a host of other writers, to +the effect that mutilations are sometimes inherited, than does Mr. +Wallace, who says that, "as regards mutilations, it is generally admitted +that they are not inherited, and there is ample evidence on this point." +It is indeed generally admitted that mutilations, when not followed by +disease, are very rarely, if ever, inherited; and Mr. Wallace's appeal to +the "ample evidence" which he alleges to exist on this head, is much as +though he should say that there is ample evidence to show that the days +are longer in summer than in winter. "Nevertheless," he continues, "a +few cases of apparent inheritance of mutilations have been recorded, and +these, if trustworthy, are difficulties in the way of the theory." . . . +"The often-quoted case of a disease induced by mutilation being inherited +(Brown-Sequard's epileptic guinea-pigs) has been discussed by Professor +Weismann and shown to be not conclusive. The mutilation itself--a +section of certain nerves--was never inherited, but the resulting +epilepsy, or a general state of weakness, deformity, or sores, was +sometimes inherited. It is, however, possible that the mere injury +introduced and encouraged the growth of certain microbes, which, +spreading through the organism, sometimes reached the germ-cells, and +thus transmitted a diseased condition to the offspring." {35} + +I suppose a microbe which made guinea-pigs eat their toes off was +communicated to the germ-cells of an unfortunate guinea-pig which had +been already microbed by it, and made the offspring bite its toes off +too. The microbe has a good deal to answer for. + +On the case of the deterioration of horses in the Falkland Islands after +a few generations, Professor Weismann says:-- + +"In such a case we have only to assume that the climate which is +unfavourable, and the nutriment which is insufficient for horses, affect +not only the animal as a whole but also its germ-cells. This would +result in the diminution in size of the germ-cells, the effects upon the +offspring being still further intensified by the insufficient nourishment +supplied during growth. But such results would not depend upon the +transmission by the germ-cells of certain peculiarities due to the +unfavourable climate, which only appear in the full-grown horse." + +But Professor Weismann does not like such cases, and admits that he +cannot explain the facts in connection with the climatic varieties of +certain butterflies, except "by supposing the passive acquisition of +characters produced by the direct influence of climate." + +Nevertheless in his next paragraph but one he calls such cases +"doubtful," and proposes that for the moment they should be left aside. +He accordingly leaves them, but I have not yet found what other moment he +considered auspicious for returning to them. He tells us that "new +experiments will be necessary, and that he has himself already begun to +undertake them." Perhaps he will give us the results of these +experiments in some future book--for that they will prove satisfactory to +him can hardly, I think, be doubted. He writes:-- + +"Leaving on one side, for the moment, these doubtful and insufficiently +investigated cases, we may still maintain that the assumption that +changes induced by external conditions in the organism as a whole are +communicated to the germ-cells after the manner indicated in Darwin's +hypothesis of pangenesis, is wholly unnecessary for the explanation of +these phenomena. Still we cannot exclude the possibility of such a +transmission occasionally occurring, for even if the greater part of the +effects must be attributable to natural selection, there might be a +smaller part in certain cases which depends on this exceptional factor." + +I repeatedly tried to understand Mr. Darwin's theory of pangenesis, and +so often failed that I long since gave the matter up in despair. I did +so with the less unwillingness because I saw that no one else appeared to +understand the theory, and that even Mr. Darwin's warmest adherents +regarded it with disfavour. If Mr. Darwin means that every cell of the +body throws off minute particles that find their way to the germ-cells, +and hence into the new embryo, this is indeed difficult of comprehension +and belief. If he means that the rhythms or vibrations that go on +ceaselessly in every cell of the body communicate themselves with greater +or less accuracy or perturbation, as the case may be, to the cells that +go to form offspring, and that since the characteristics of matter are +determined by vibrations, in communicating vibrations they in effect +communicate matter, according to the view put forward in the last chapter +of my book "Luck or Cunning," {36} then we can better understand it. I +have nothing, however, to do with Mr. Darwin's theory of pangenesis +beyond avoiding the pretence that I understand either the theory itself +or what Professor Weismann says about it; all I am concerned with is +Professor Weismann's admission, made immediately afterwards, that the +somatic cells may, and perhaps sometimes do, impart characteristics to +the germ-cells. + +"A complete and satisfactory refutation of such an opinion," he +continues, "cannot be brought forward at present"; so I suppose we must +wait a little longer, but in the meantime we may again remark that, if we +admit even occasional communication of changes in the somatic cells to +the germ-cells, we have let in the thin end of the wedge, as Mr. Darwin +did when he said that use and disuse did a good deal towards +modification. Buffon, in his first volume on the lower animals, {37} +dwells on the impossibility of stopping the breach once made by admission +of variation at all. "If the point," he writes, "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 farther 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." So with use and disuse +and transmission of acquired characteristics generally--once show that a +single structure or instinct is due to habit in preceding generations, +and we can impose no limit on the results achievable by accumulation in +this respect, nor shall we be wrong in conceiving it as possible that all +specialisation, whether of structure or instinct, may be due ultimately +to habit. + +How far this can be shown to be probable is, of course, another matter, +but I am not immediately concerned with this; all I am concerned with now +is to show that the germ-cells not unfrequently become permanently +affected by events that have made a profound impression upon the somatic +cells, in so far that they transmit an obvious reminiscence of the +impression to the embryos which they go subsequently towards forming. +This is all that is necessary for my case, and I do not find that +Professor Weismann, after all, disputes it. + +But here, again, comes the difficulty of saying what Professor Weismann +does, and what he does not, dispute. One moment he gives all that is +wanted for the Lamarckian contention, the next he denies common-sense the +bare necessaries of life. For a more exhaustive and detailed criticism +of Professor Weismann's position, I would refer the reader to an +admirably clear article by Mr. Sidney H. Vines, which appeared in +_Nature_, October 24, 1889. I can only say that while reading Professor +Weismann's book, I feel as I do when I read those of Mr. Darwin, and of a +good many other writers on biology whom I need not name. I become like a +fly in a window-pane. I see the sunshine and freedom beyond, and buzz up +and down their pages, ever hopeful to get through them to the fresh air +without, but ever kept back by a mysterious something, which I feel but +cannot either grasp or see. It was not thus when I read Buffon, Erasmus +Darwin, and Lamarck; it is not thus when I read such articles as Mr. +Vines's just referred to. Love of self-display, and the want of +singleness of mind that it inevitably engenders--these, I suppose, are +the sins that glaze the casements of most men's minds; and from these, no +matter how hard he tries to free himself, nor how much he despises them, +who is altogether exempt? + +Finally, then, when we consider the immense mass of evidence referred to +briefly, but sufficiently, by Mr. Charles Darwin, and referred to without +other, for the most part, than off-hand dismissal by Professor Weismann +in the last of the essays that have been recently translated, I do not +see how any one who brings an unbiased mind to the question can hesitate +as to the side on which the weight of testimony inclines. Professor +Weismann declares that "the transmission of mutilations may be dismissed +into the domain of fable." {38} If so, then, whom can we trust? What is +the use of science at all if the conclusions of a man as competent as I +readily admit Mr. Darwin to have been, on the evidence laid before him +from countless sources, is to be set aside lightly and without giving the +clearest and most cogent explanation of the why and wherefore? When we +see a person "ostrichising" the evidence which he has to meet, as clearly +as I believe Professor Weismann to be doing, we shall in nine cases out +of ten be right in supposing that he knows the evidence to be too strong +for him. + + + +THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM--PART III + + +Now let me return to the recent division of biological opinion into two +main streams--Lamarckism and Weismannism Both Lamarckians and +Weismannists, not to mention mankind in general, admit that the better +adapted to its surroundings a living form may be, the more likely it is +to outbreed its compeers. The world at large, again, needs not to be +told that the normal course is not unfrequently deflected through the +fortunes of war; nevertheless, according to Lamarckians and +Erasmus-Darwinians, habitual effort, guided by ever-growing +intelligence--that is to say, by continued increase of power in the +matter of knowing our likes and dislikes--has been so much the main +factor throughout the course of organic development, that the rest, +though not lost sight of, may be allowed to go without saying. According, +on the other hand, to extreme Charles-Darwinians and Weismannists, habit, +effort and intelligence acquired during the experience of any one life +goes for nothing. Not even a little fraction of it endures to the +benefit of offspring. It dies with him in whom it is acquired, and the +heirs of a man's body take no interest therein. To state this doctrine +is to arouse instinctive loathing; it is my fortunate task to maintain +that such a nightmare of waste and death is as baseless as it is +repulsive. + +The split in biological opinion occasioned by the deadlock to which +Charles-Darwinism has been reduced, though comparatively recent, widens +rapidly. Ten years ago Lamarck's name was mentioned only as a byword for +extravagance; now, we cannot take up a number of _Nature_ without seeing +how hot the contention is between his followers and those of Weismann. +This must be referred, as I implied earlier, to growing perception that +Mr. Darwin should either have gone farther towards Lamarckism or not so +far. In admitting use and disuse as freely as he did, he gave +Lamarckians leverage for the overthrow of a system based ostensibly on +the accumulation of fortunate accidents. In assigning the lion's share +of development to the accumulation of fortunate accidents, he tempted +fortuitists to try to cut the ground from under Lamarck's feet by denying +that the effects of use and disuse can be inherited at all. When the +public had once got to understand what Lamarck had intended, and wherein +Mr. Charles Darwin had differed from him, it became impossible for +Charles-Darwinians to remain where they were, nor is it easy to see what +course was open to them except to cast about for a theory by which they +could get rid of use and disuse altogether. Weismannism, therefore, is +the inevitable outcome of the straits to which Charles-Darwinians were +reduced through the way in which their leader had halted between two +opinions. + +This is why Charles-Darwinians, from Professor Huxley downwards, have +kept the difference between Lamarck's opinions and those of Mr. Darwin so +much in the background. Unwillingness to make this understood is nowhere +manifested more clearly than in Dr. Francis Darwin's life of his father. +In this work Lamarck is sneered at once or twice, and told to go away, +but there is no attempt to state the two cases side by side; from which, +as from not a little else, I conclude that Dr. Francis Darwin has +descended from his father with singularly little modification. + +Proceeding to the evidence for the transmissions of acquired habits, I +will quote two recently adduced examples from among the many that have +been credibly attested. The first was contributed to _Nature_ (March 14, +1889) by Professor Marcus M. Hartog, who wrote:-- + +"A. B. is moderately myopic and very astigmatic in the left eye; +extremely myopic in the right. As the left eye gave such bad images for +near objects, he was compelled in childhood to mask it, and acquired the +habit of leaning his head on his left arm for writing, so as to blind +that eye, or of resting the left temple and eye on the hand, with the +elbow on the table. At the age of fifteen the eyes were equalised by the +use of suitable spectacles, and he soon lost the habit completely and +permanently. He is now the father of two children, a boy and a girl, +whose vision (tested repeatedly and fully) is emmetropic in both eyes, so +that they have not inherited the congenital optical defect of their +father. All the same, they have both of them inherited his early +acquired habit, and need constant watchfulness to prevent their hiding +the left eye when writing, by resting the head on the left forearm or +hand. Imitation is here quite out of the question. + +"Considering that every habit involves changes in the proportional +development of the muscular and osseous systems, and hence probably of +the nervous system also, the importance of inherited habits, natural or +acquired, cannot be overlooked in the general theory of inheritance. I +am fully aware that I shall be accused of flat Lamarckism, but a nickname +is not an argument." + +To this Professor Ray Lankester rejoined (_Nature_, March 21, 1889):-- + +"It is not unusual for children to rest the head on the left forearm or +hand when writing, and I doubt whether much value can be attached to the +case described by Professor Hartog. The kind of observation which his +letter suggests is, however, likely to lead to results either for or +against the transmission of acquired characters. An old friend of mine +lost his right arm when a schoolboy, and has ever since written with his +left. He has a large family and grandchildren, but I have not heard of +any of them showing a disposition to left-handedness." + +From _Nature_ (March 21, 1889) I take the second instance communicated by +Mr. J. Jenner-Weir, who wrote as follows:-- + +"Mr. Marcus M. Hartog's letter of March 6th, inserted in last week's +number (p. 462), is a very valuable contribution to the growing evidence +that acquired characters may be inherited. I have long held the view +that such is often the case, and I have myself observed several instances +of the, at least I may say, apparent fact. + +"Many years ago there was a very fine male of the _Capra megaceros_ in +the gardens of the Zoological Society. To restrain this animal from +jumping over the fence of the enclosure in which he was confined, a long, +and heavy chain was attached to the collar round his neck. He was +constantly in the habit of taking this chain up by his horns and moving +it from one side to another over his back; in doing this he threw his +head very much back, his horns being placed in a line with the back. The +habit had become quite chronic with him, and was very tiresome to look +at. I was very much astonished to observe that his offspring inherited +the habit, and although it was not necessary to attach a chain to their +necks, I have often seen a young male throwing his horns over his back +and shifting from side to side an imaginary chain. The action was +exactly the same as that of his ancestor. The case of the kid of this +goat appears to me to be parallel to that of child and parent given by +Mr. Hartog. I think at the time I made this observation I informed Mr. +Darwin of the fact by letter, and he did not accuse me of 'flat +Lamarckism.'" + +To this letter there was no rejoinder. It may be said, of course, that +the action of the offspring in each of these cases was due to accidental +coincidence only. Anything can be said, but the question turns not on +what an advocate can say, but on what a reasonably intelligent and +disinterested jury will believe; granted they might be mistaken in +accepting the foregoing stories, but the world of science, like that of +commerce, is based on the faith or confidence, which both creates and +sustains them. Indeed the universe itself is but the creature of faith, +for assuredly we know of no other foundation. There is nothing so +generally and reasonably accepted--not even our own continued +identity--but questions may be raised about it that will shortly prove +unanswerable. We cannot so test every sixpence given us in change as to +be sure that we never take a bad one, and had better sometimes be cheated +than reduce caution to an absurdity. Moreover, we have seen from the +evidence given in my preceding article that the germ-cells issuing from a +parent's body can, and do, respond to profound impressions made on the +somatic-cells. This being so, what impressions are more profound, what +needs engage more assiduous attention than those connected with +self-protection, the procuring of food, and the continuation of the +species? If the mere anxiety connected with an ill-healing wound +inflicted on but one generation is sometimes found to have so impressed +the germ-cells that they hand down its scars to offspring, how much more +shall not anxieties that have directed action of all kinds from birth +till death, not in one generation only but in a longer series of +generations than the mind can realise to itself, modify, and indeed +control, the organisation of every species? + +I see Professor S. H. Vines, in the article on Weismann's theory referred +to in my preceding article, says Mr. Darwin "held that it was not the +sudden variations due to altered external conditions which become +permanent, but those slowly produced by what he termed 'the accumulative +action of changed conditions of life.'" Nothing can be more soundly +Lamarckian, and nothing should more conclusively show that, whatever else +Mr. Darwin was, he was not a Charles-Darwinian; but what evidence other +than inferential can from the nature of the case be adduced in support of +this, as I believe, perfectly correct judgment? None know better than +they who clamour for direct evidence that their master was right in +taking the position assigned to him by Professor Vines, that they cannot +reasonably look for it. With us, as with themselves, modification +proceeds very gradually, and it violates our principles as much as their +own to expect visible permanent progress, in any single generation, or +indeed in any number of generations of wild species which we have yet had +time to observe. Occasionally we can find such cases, as in that of +_Branchipus stagnalis_, quoted by Mr. Wallace, or in that of the New +Zealand Kea whose skin, I was assured by the late Sir Julius von Haast, +has already been modified as a consequence of its change of food. Here +we can show that in even a few generations structure is modified under +changed conditions of existence, but as we believe these cases to occur +comparatively rarely, so it is still more rarely that they occur when and +where we can watch them. Nature is eminently conservative, and fixity of +type, even under considerable change of conditions, is surely more +important for the well-being of any species than an over-ready power of +adaptation to, it may be, passing changes. There could be no steady +progress if each generation were not mainly bound by the traditions of +those that have gone before it. It is evolution and not incessant +revolution that both parties are upholding; and this being so, rapid +visible modification must be the exception, not the rule. I have quoted +direct evidence adduced by competent observers, which is, I believe, +sufficient to establish the fact that offspring can be and is sometimes +modified by the acquired habits of a progenitor. I will now proceed to +the still more, as it appears to me, cogent proof afforded by general +considerations. + +What, let me ask, are the principal phenomena of heredity? There must be +physical continuity between parent, or parents, and offspring, so that +the offspring is, as Erasmus Darwin well said, a kind of elongation of +the life of the parent. + +Erasmus Darwin put the matter so well that I may as well give his words +in full; he wrote:-- + +"Owing to the imperfection of language the offspring is termed a new +animal, but is in truth a branch or elongation of the parent, since a +part of the embryon animal is, or was, a part of the parent, and +therefore, in strict language, cannot be said to be entirely new at the +time of its production; and therefore it may retain some of the habits of +the parent system. + +"At the earliest period of its existence the embryon would seem to +consist of a living filament with certain capabilities of irritation, +sensation, volition, and association, and also with some acquired habits +or propensities peculiar to the parent; the former of these are in common +with other animals; the latter seem to distinguish or produce the kind of +animal, whether man or quadruped, with the similarity of feature or form +to the parent." {39} + +Those who accept evolution insist on unbroken physical continuity between +the earliest known life and ourselves, so that we both are and are not +personally identical with the unicellular organism from which we have +descended in the course of many millions of years, exactly in the same +way as an octogenarian both is and is not personally identical with the +microscopic impregnate ovum from which he grew up. Everything both is +and is not. There is no such thing as strict identity between any two +things in any two consecutive seconds. In strictness they are identical +and yet not identical, so that in strictness they violate a fundamental +rule of strictness--namely, that a thing shall never be itself and not +itself at one and the same time; we must choose between logic and dealing +in a practical spirit with time and space; it is not surprising, +therefore, that logic, in spite of the show of respect outwardly paid to +her, is told to stand aside when people come to practice. In practice +identity is generally held to exist where continuity is only broken +slowly and piecemeal, nevertheless, that occasional periods of even rapid +change are not held to bar identity, appears from the fact that no one +denies this to hold between the microscopically small impregnate ovum and +the born child that springs from it, nor yet, therefore, between the +impregnate ovum and the octogenarian into which the child grows; for both +ovum and octogenarian are held personally identical with the newborn +baby, and things that are identical with the same are identical with one +another. + +The first, then, and most important element of heredity is that there +should be unbroken continuity, and hence sameness of personality, between +parents and offspring, in neither more nor less than the same sense as +that in which any other two personalities are said to be the same. The +repetition, therefore, of its developmental stages by any offspring must +be regarded as something which the embryo repeating them has already done +once, in the person of one or other parent; and if once, then, as many +times as there have been generations between any given embryo now +repeating it, and the point in life from which we started--say, for +example, the amoeba. In the case of asexually and sexually produced +organisms alike, the offspring must be held to continue the personality +of the parent or parents, and hence on the occasion of every fresh +development, to be repeating something which in the person of its parent +or parents it has done once, and if once, then any number of times, +already. + +It is obvious, therefore, that the germ-plasm (or whatever the fancy word +for it may be) of any one generation is as physically identical with the +germ-plasm of its predecessor as any two things can be. The difference +between Professor Weismann and, we will say, Heringians consists in the +fact that the first maintains the new germ-plasm when on the point of +repeating its developmental processes to take practically no cognisance +of anything that has happened to it since the last occasion on which it +developed itself; while the latter maintain that offspring takes much the +same kind of account of what has happened to it in the persons of its +parents since the last occasion on which it developed itself, as people +in ordinary life take of things that happen to them. In daily life +people let fairly normal circumstances come and go without much heed as +matters of course. If they have been lucky they make a note of it and +try to repeat their success. If they have been unfortunate but have +recovered rapidly they soon forget it; if they have suffered long and +deeply they grizzle over it and are scared and scarred by it for a long +time. The question is one of cognisance or non-cognisance on the part of +the new germs, of the more profound impressions made on them while they +were one with their parents, between the occasion of their last preceding +development, and the new course on which they are about to enter. Those +who accept the theory put forward independently by Professor Hering of +Prague (whose work on this subject is translated in my book, "Unconscious +Memory") {40} and by myself in "Life and Habit," {41} believe in +cognizance, as do Lamarckians generally. Weismannites, and with them the +orthodoxy of English science, find non-cognisance more acceptable. + +If the Heringian view is accepted, that heredity is only a mode of +memory, and an extension of memory from one generation to another, then +the repetition of its development by any embryo thus becomes only the +repetition of a lesson learned by rote; and, as I have elsewhere said, +our view of life is simplified by finding that it is no longer an +equation of, say, a hundred unknown quantities, but of ninety-nine only, +inasmuch as two of the unknown quantities prove to be substantially +identical. In this case the inheritance of acquired characteristics +cannot be disputed, for it is postulated in the theory that each embryo +takes note of, remembers and is guided by the profounder impressions made +upon it while in the persons of its parents, between its present and last +preceding development. To maintain this is to maintain use and disuse to +be the main factors throughout organic development; to deny it is to deny +that use and disuse can have any conceivable effect. For the detailed +reasons which led me to my own conclusions I must refer the reader to my +books, "Life and Habit" {42} and "Unconscious Memory," {42} the +conclusions of which have been often adopted, but never, that I have +seen, disputed. A brief _resume_ of the leading points in the argument +is all that space will here allow me to give. + +We have seen that it is a first requirement of heredity that there shall +be physical continuity between parents and offspring. This holds good +with memory. There must be continued identity between the person +remembering and the person to whom the thing that is remembered happened. +We cannot remember things that happened to some one else, and in our +absence. We can only remember having heard of them. We have seen, +however, that there is as much _bona-fide_ sameness of personality +between parents and offspring up to the time at which the offspring quits +the parent's body, as there is between the different states of the parent +himself at any two consecutive moments; the offspring therefore, being +one and the same person with its progenitors until it quits them, can be +held to remember what happened to them within, of course, the limitations +to which all memory is subject, as much as the progenitors can remember +what happened earlier to themselves. Whether it does so remember can +only be settled by observing whether it acts as living beings commonly do +when they are acting under guidance of memory. I will endeavour to show +that, though heredity and habit based on memory go about in different +dresses, yet if we catch them separately--for they are never seen +together--and strip them there is not a mole nor strawberry-mark, nor +trick nor leer of the one, but we find it in the other also. + +What are the moles and strawberry-marks of habitual action, or actions +remembered and thus repeated? First, the more often we repeat them the +more easily and unconsciously we do them. Look at reading, writing, +walking, talking, playing the piano, &c.; the longer we have practised +any one of these acquired habits, the more easily, automatically and +unconsciously, we perform it. Look, on the other hand, broadly, at the +three points to which I called attention in "Life and Habit":-- + +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 eating and +drinking [provided the food be normal], 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. + +III. That we are most unconscious of and have least control over our +digestion and circulation--powers possessed even by our invertebrate +ancestry, and, geologically speaking, of extreme antiquity. + +I have put the foregoing very broadly, but enough is given to show the +reader the gist of the argument. Let it be noted that disturbance and +departure, to any serious extent, from normal practice tends to induce +resumption of consciousness even in the case of such old habits as +breathing, seeing, and hearing, digestion and the circulation of the +blood. So it is with habitual actions in general. Let a player be never +so proficient on any instrument, he will be put out if the normal +conditions under which he plays are too widely departed from, and will +then do consciously, if indeed he can do it at all, what he had hitherto +been doing unconsciously. It is an axiom as regards actions acquired +after birth, that we never do them automatically save as the result of +long practice; the stages in the case of any acquired facility, the +inception of which we have been able to watch, have invariably been from +a nothingness of ignorant impotence to a little somethingness of highly +self-conscious, arduous performance, and thence to the +unselfconsciousness of easy mastery. I saw one year a poor blind lad of +about eighteen sitting on a wall by the wayside at Varese, playing the +concertina with his whole body, and snorting like a child. The next year +the boy no longer snorted, and he played with his fingers only; the year +after that he seemed hardly to know whether he was playing or not, it +came so easily to him. I know no exception to this rule. Where is the +intricate and at one time difficult art in which perfect automatic ease +has been reached except as the result of long practice? If, then, +wherever we can trace the development of automatism we find it to have +taken this course, is it not most reasonable to infer that it has taken +the same even when it has risen in regions that are beyond our ken? Ought +we not, whenever we see a difficult action performed, automatically to +suspect antecedent practice? Granted that without the considerations in +regard to identity presented above it would not have been easy to see +where a baby of a day old could have had the practice which enables it to +do as much as it does unconsciously, but even without these +considerations it would have been more easy to suppose that the necessary +opportunities had not been wanting, than that the easy performance could +have been gained without practice and memory. + +When I wrote "Life and Habit" (originally published in 1877) I said in +slightly different words:-- + +"Shall we say 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 any one had discovered oxygen--sees and +hears, operations that involve an unconscious knowledge of the facts +concerning optics and acoustics compared with which the conscious +discoveries of Newton are insignificant--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 give them attention, and yet without mistake, and +shall we also say at the same time that it has not learnt to do them, and +never did them before? + +"Such an assertion would contradict the whole experience of mankind." + +I have met with nothing during the thirteen years since the foregoing was +published that has given me any qualms about its soundness. From the +point of view of the law courts and everyday life it is, of course, +nonsense; but in the kingdom of thought, as in that of heaven, there are +many mansions, and what would be extravagance in the cottage or +farmhouse, as it were, of daily practice, is but common decency in the +palace of high philosophy, wherein dwells evolution. If we leave +evolution alone, we may stick to common practice and the law courts; +touch evolution and we are in another world; not higher, not lower, but +different as harmony from counterpoint. As, however, in the most +absolute counterpoint there is still harmony, and in the most absolute +harmony still counterpoint, so high philosophy should be still in touch +with common sense, and common sense with high philosophy. + +The common-sense view of the matter to people who are not over-curious +and to whom time is money, will be that a baby is not a baby until it is +born, and that when born it should be born in wedlock. Nevertheless, as +a sop to high philosophy, every baby is allowed to be the offspring of +its father and mother. + +The high-philosophy view of the matter is that every human being is still +but a fresh edition of the primordial cell with the latest additions and +corrections; there has been no leap nor break in continuity anywhere; the +man of to-day is the primordial cell of millions of years ago as truly as +he is the himself of yesterday; he can only be denied to be the one on +grounds that will prove him not to be the other. Every one is both +himself and all his direct ancestors and descendants as well; therefore, +if we would be logical, he is one also with all his cousins, no matter +how distant, for he and they are alike identical with the primordial +cell, and we have already noted it as an axiom that things which are +identical with the same are identical with one another. This is +practically making him one with all living things, whether animal or +vegetable, that ever have existed or ever will--something of all which +may have been in the mind of Sophocles when he wrote:-- + + "Nor seest thou yet the gathering hosts of ill + That shall en-one thee both with thine own self + And with thine offspring." + +And all this has come of admitting that a man may be the same person for +two days running! As for sopping common sense it will be enough to say +that these remarks are to be taken in a strictly scientific sense, and +have no appreciable importance as regards life and conduct. True they +deal with the foundations on which all life and conduct are based, but +like other foundations they are hidden out of sight, and the sounder they +are, the less we trouble ourselves about them. + +What other main common features between heredity and memory may we note +besides the fact that neither can exist without that kind of physical +continuity which we call personal identity? First, the development of +the embryo proceeds in an established order; so must all habitual actions +based on memory. Disturb the normal order and the performance is +arrested. The better we know "God save the Queen," the less easily can +we play or sing it backwards. The return of memory again depends on the +return of ideas associated with the particular thing that is +remembered--we remember nothing but for the presence of these, and when +enough of these are presented to us we remember everything. So, if the +development of an embryo is due to memory, we should suppose the memory +of the impregnate ovum to revert not to yesterday, when it was in the +persons of its parents, but to the last occasion on which it was an +impregnate ovum. The return of the old environment and the presence of +old associations would at once involve recollection of the course that +should be next taken, and the same should happen throughout the whole +course of development. The actual course of development presents +precisely the phenomena agreeable with this. For fuller treatment of +this point I must refer the reader to the chapter on the abeyance of +memory in my book "Life and Habit," already referred to. + +Secondly, we remember best our last few performances of any given kind, +so our present performance will probably resemble some one or other of +these; we remember our earlier performances by way of residuum only, but +every now and then we revert to an earlier habit. This feature of memory +is manifested in heredity by the way in which offspring commonly +resembles most its nearer ancestors, but sometimes reverts to earlier +ones. Brothers and sisters, each as it were giving their own version of +the same story, but in different words, should generally resemble each +other more closely than more distant relations. And this is what +actually we find. + +Thirdly, the introduction of slightly new elements into a method already +established varies it beneficially; the new is soon fused with the old, +and the monotony ceases to be oppressive. But if the new be too foreign, +we cannot fuse the old and the new--nature seeming to hate equally too +wide a deviation from ordinary practice and none at all. This fact +reappears in heredity as the beneficial effects of occasional crossing on +the one hand, and on the other, in the generally observed sterility of +hybrids. If heredity be an affair of memory, how can an embryo, say of a +mule, be expected to build up a mule on the strength of but two +mule-memories? Hybridism causes a fault in the chain of memory, and it +is to this cause that the usual sterility of hybrids must be referred. + +Fourthly, it requires many repeated impressions to fix a method firmly, +but when it has been engrained into us we cease to have much recollection +of the manner in which it came to be so, or indeed of any individual +repetition, but sometimes a single impression, if prolonged as well as +profound, produces a lasting impression and is liable to return with +sudden force, and then to go on returning to us at intervals. As a +general rule, however, abnormal impressions cannot long hold their own +against the overwhelming preponderance of normal authority. This appears +in heredity as the normal non-inheritance of mutilations on the one hand, +and on the other as their occasional inheritance in the case of injuries +followed by disease. + +Fifthly, if heredity and memory are essentially the same, we should +expect that no animal would develop new structures of importance after +the age at which its species begins ordinarily to continue its race; for +we cannot suppose offspring to remember anything that happens to the +parent subsequently to the parent's ceasing to contain the offspring +within itself. From the average age, therefore, of reproduction, +offspring should cease to have any farther steady, continuous memory to +fall back upon; what memory there is should be full of faults, and as +such unreliable. An organism ought to develop as long as it is backed by +memory--that is to say, until the average age at which reproduction +begins; it should then continue to go for a time on the impetus already +received, and should eventually decay through failure of any memory to +support it, and tell it what to do. This corresponds absolutely with +what we observe in organisms generally, and explains, on the one hand, +why the age of puberty marks the beginning of completed development--a +riddle hitherto not only unexplained but, so far as I have seen, unasked; +it explains, on the other hand, the phenomena of old age--hitherto +without even attempt at explanation. + +Sixthly, those organisms that are the longest in reaching maturity should +on the average be the longest-lived, for they will have received the most +momentous impulse from the weight of memory behind them. This harmonises +with the latest opinion as to the facts. In his article on Weismann in +the _Contemporary Review_ for May 1890, Mr. Romanes writes: "Professor +Weismann has shown that there is throughout the metazoa a general +correlation between the natural lifetime of individuals composing any +given species, and the age at which they reach maturity or first become +capable of procreation." This, I believe, has been the conclusion +generally arrived at by biologists for some years past. + +Lateness, then, in the average age of reproduction appears to be the +principle underlying longevity. There does not appear at first sight to +be much connection between such distinct and apparently disconnected +phenomena as 1, the orderly normal progress of development; 2, atavism +and the resumption of feral characteristics; 3, the more ordinary +resemblance _inter se_ of nearer relatives; 4, the benefit of an +occasional cross, and the usual sterility of hybrids; 5, the +unconsciousness with which alike bodily development and ordinary +physiological functions proceed, so long as they are normal; 6, the +ordinary non-inheritance, but occasional inheritance of mutilations; 7, +the fact that puberty indicates the approach of maturity; 8, the +phenomena of middle life and old age; 9, the principle underlying +longevity. These phenomena have no conceivable bearing on one another +until heredity and memory are regarded as part of the same story. +Identify these two things, and I know no phenomenon of heredity that does +not immediately become infinitely more intelligible. Is it conceivable +that a theory which harmonises so many facts hitherto regarded as without +either connection or explanation should not deserve at any rate +consideration from those who profess to take an interest in biology? + +It is not as though the theory were unknown, or had been condemned by our +leading men of science. Professor Ray Lankester introduced it to English +readers in an appreciative notice of Professor Hering's address, which +appeared in _Nature_, July 18, 1876. He wrote to the _Athenaeum_, March +24, 1884, and claimed credit for having done so, but I do not believe he +has ever said more in public about it than what I have here referred to. +Mr. Romanes did indeed try to crush it in _Nature_, January 27, 1881, but +in 1883, in his "Mental Evolution in Animals," he adopted its main +conclusion without acknowledgment. The _Athenaeum_, to my unbounded +surprise, called him to task for this (March 1, 1884), and since that +time he has given the Heringian theory a sufficiently wide berth. Mr. +Wallace showed himself favourably enough disposed towards the view that +heredity and memory are part of the same story when he reviewed my book +"Life and Habit" in _Nature_, March 27, 1879, but he has never since +betrayed any sign of being aware that such a theory existed. Mr. Herbert +Spencer wrote to the _Athenaeum_ (April 5, 1884), and claimed the theory +for himself, but, in spite of his doing this, he has never, that I have +seen, referred to the matter again. I have dealt sufficiently with his +claim in my book, "Luck or Cunning." {43} Lastly, Professor Hering +himself has never that I know of touched his own theory since the single +short address read in 1870, and translated by me in 1881. Every one, +even its originator, except myself, seems afraid to open his mouth about +it. Of course the inference suggests itself that other people have more +sense than I have. I readily admit it; but why have so many of our +leaders shown such a strong hankering after the theory, if there is +nothing in it? + +The deadlock that I have pointed out as existing in Darwinism will, I +doubt not, lead ere long to a consideration of Professor Hering's theory. +English biologists are little likely to find Weismann satisfactory for +long, and if he breaks down there is nothing left for them but Lamarck, +supplemented by the important and elucidatory corollary on his theory +proposed by Professor Hering. When the time arrives for this to obtain a +hearing it will be confirmed, doubtless, by arguments clearer and more +forcible than any I have been able to adduce; I shall then be delighted +to resign the championship which till then I shall continue, as for some +years past, to have much pleasure in sustaining. Heretofore my +satisfaction has mainly lain in the fact that more of our prominent men +of science have seemed anxious to claim the theory than to refute it; in +the confidence thus engendered I leave it to any fuller consideration +which the outline I have above given may incline the reader to bestow +upon it. + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{1} Published in the _Universal Review_, July 1888. + +{2} Published in the _Universal Review_, December 1890. + +{3} Published in the _Universal Review_, May 1889. As I have several +times been asked if the letters here reprinted were not fabricated by +Butler himself, I take this opportunity of stating that they are +authentic in every particular, and that the originals are now in my +possession.--R. A. S. + +{4} An address delivered at the Somerville Club, February 27, 1895. + +{5} "The Foundations of Belief," by the Right Hon. A. J. Balfour. +Longmans, 1895, p. 48. + +{6} Published in the _Universal Review_, November 1888. + +{7} Since this essay was written it has been ascertained by Cavaliere +Francesco Negri, of Casale Monferrato, that Tabachetti died in 1615. If, +therefore, the Sanctuary of Montrigone was not founded until 1631, it is +plain that Tabachetti cannot have worked there. All the latest +discoveries about Tabachetti's career will be found in Cavaliere Negri's +pamphlet "Il Santuario di Crea" (Alessandria, 1902). See also note on p. +154.--R. A. S. + +{8} Published in the _Universal Review_, December 1889. + +{9} Longmans & Co., 1890. + +{10} Longmans & Co., 1890. + +{11} Published in the _Universal Review_, November 1890. + +{12} Longmans & Co., 1890. + +{13} M. Ruppen's words run: "1687 wurde die Kapelle zur hohen Stiege +gebaut, 1747 durch Zusatz vergrossert und 1755 mit Orgeln ausgestattet. +Anton Ruppen, ein geschickter Steinhauer mid Maurermeister leitete den +Kapellebau, und machte darin das kleinere Altarlein. Bei der hohen +Stiege war fruher kein Gebetshauslein; nur ein wunderthatiges Bildlein +der Mutter Gottes stand da in einer Mauer vor dem fromme Hirten und viel +andachtiges Volk unter freiem Himmel beteten. + +"1709 wurden die kleinen Kapellelein die 15 Geheimnisse des Psalters +vorstelland auf dem Wege zur hohen Stiege gebaut. Jeder Haushalter des +Viertels Fee ubernahm den Bau eines dieser Geheimnisskapellen, und ein +besonderer Gutthater dieser frommen Unternehmung war Heinrich +Andenmatten, nachher Bruder der Geselischaft Jesu." + +{14} The story of Tabachetti's incarceration is very doubtful. Cavaliere +F. Negri, to whose book on Tabachetti and his work at Crea I have already +referred the reader, does not mention it. Tabachetti left his native +Dinant in 1585, and from that date until his death in 1615 he appears to +have worked chiefly at Varallo and Crea. There is a document in +existence stating that in 1588 he executed a statue for the hermitage of +S. Rocco, at Crea, which, if it is to be relied on, disposes both of the +incarceration and of the visit to Saas. It is possible, however, that +the date is 1598, in which case Butler's theory of the visit to Saas may +hold good. In 1590 Tabachetti was certainly at Varallo, and again in +1594, 1599, and 1602. He died in 1615, possibly during a visit to +Varallo, though his home at that time was Costigliole, near Asti.--R. A. +S. + +{15} This is thus chronicled by M. Ruppen: "1589 den 9 September war +eine Wassergrosse, die viel Schaden verursachte. Die Thalstrasse, die +von den Steinmatten an bis zur Kirche am Ufer der Visp lag, wurde ganz +zerstort. Man ward gezwungen eine neue Strasse in einiger Entfernung vom +Wasser durch einen alten Fussweg auszuhauen welche vier und einerhalben +Viertel der Klafter, oder 6 Schuh und 9 Zoll breit soilte." (p. 43). + +{16} A lecture delivered at the Working Men's College in Great Ormond +Street, March 15, 1890; rewritten and delivered again at the Somerville +Club, February 13, 1894. + +{17} "Correlation of Forces": Longmans, 1874, p. 15. + +{18} "Three Lectures on the Science of Language," Longmans, 1889, p. 4. + +{19} "Science of Thought," Longmans, 1887, p. 9. + +{20} Published in the _Universal Review_, April, May, and June 1890. + +{21} "Voyages of the _Adventure_ and _Beagle_," iii. p. 237. + +{22} "Luck, or Cunning, as the main means of Organic Modification?" +(Longmans), pp. 179, 180. + +{23} _Journals of the Proceedings of the Linnean Society_ (Zoology, vol. +iii.), 1859, p. 61. + +{24} "Darwinism" (Macmillan, 1889), p. 129. + +{25} Longmans, 1890, p. 376. + +{26} See _Nature_, March 6, 1890. + +{27} "Origin of Species," sixth edition, 1888, vol. i. p. 168. + +{28} "Origin of Species," sixth edition, 1888, vol. ii. p. 261. + +{29} Mr. J. T. Cunningham, of the Marine Biological Laboratory, +Plymouth, has called my attention to the fact that I have ascribed to +Professor Ray Lankester a criticism on Mr. Wallace's remarks upon the +eyes of certain fiat-fish, which Professor Ray Lankester was, in reality, +only adopting--with full acknowledgment--from Mr. Cunningham. Mr. +Cunningham has left it to me whether to correct my omission publicly or +not, but he would so plainly prefer my doing so that I consider myself +bound to insert this note. Curiously enough I find that in my book +"Evolution Old and New," I gave what Lamarck actually said upon the eyes +of flat-fish, and having been led to return to the subject, I may as well +quote his words. He wrote:-- + +"Need--always occasioned by the circumstances in which an animal is +placed, and followed by sustained efforts at gratification--can not only +modify an organ--that is to say, augment or reduce it--but can change its +position when the case requires its removal. + +"Ocean fishes have occasion to see what is on either side of them, and +have their eyes accordingly placed on either side of their head. Some +fishes, however, have their abode near coasts on submarine banks and +inclinations, and are thus forced to flatten themselves as much as +possible in order to get as near as they can to the shore. In this +situation they receive more light from above than from below, and find it +necessary to pay attention to whatever happens to be above them; this +need has involved the displacement of their eyes, which now take the +remarkable position which we observe in the case of soles, turbots, +plaice, &c. The transfer of position is not even yet complete in the +case of these fishes, and the eyes are not, therefore, symmetrically +placed; but they are so with the skate, whose head and whole body are +equally disposed on either side a longitudinal section. Hence the eyes +of this fish are placed symmetrically upon the uppermost +_side_."--_Philosophie Zoologique_, tom. i., pp. 250, 251. Edition C. +Martins. Paris, 1873. + +{30} "Essays on Heredity," &c., Oxford, 1889, p. 171. + +{31} "Essays on Heredity," &c., Oxford, 1889, p. 266. + +{32} "Darwinism," 1889, p. 440. + +{33} Page 83. + +{34} Vol. i. p. 466, &c. Ed. 1885. + +{35} "Darwinism," p. 440. + +{36} Longmans, 1890. + +{37} Tom. iv. p. 383. Ed. 1753. + +{38} Essays, &c., p. 447. + +{39} "Zoonomia," 1794, vol. i. p. 480. + +{40} Longmans, 1890. + +{41} Longmans, 1890. + +{42} Longmans, 1890. + +{43} Longmans, 1890. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ESSAYS ON LIFE, ART AND SCIENCE*** + + +******* This file should be named 3461.txt or 3461.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/4/6/3461 + + + +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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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.08.01*END** +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + + + + + +This etext was produced by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk, +from the 1908 A. C. Fifield edition. + + + + + +ESSAYS ON LIFE, ART AND SCIENCE + +by Samuel Butler + + + + +Contents: + +Introduction +Quis Desiderio? +Ramblings in Cheapside +The Aunt, The Nieces, and the Dog +How to make the best of life +The Sanctuary of Montrigone +A Medieval Girl School +Art in the Valley of Saas +Thought and Language +The Deadlock in Darwinism + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + + +It is hardly necessary to apologise for the miscellaneous character +of the following collection of essays. Samuel Butler was a man of +such unusual versatility, and his interests were so many and so +various that his literary remains were bound to cover a wide field. +Nevertheless it will be found that several of the subjects to which +he devoted much time and labour are not represented in these pages. +I have not thought it necessary to reprint any of the numerous +pamphlets and articles which he wrote upon the Iliad and Odyssey, +since these were all merged in "The Authoress of the Odyssey," which +gives his matured views upon everything relating to the Homeric +poems. For a similar reason I have not included an essay on the +evidence for the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, which he printed in +1865 for private circulation, since he subsequently made extensive +use of it in "The Fair Haven." + +Two of the essays in this collection were originally delivered as +lectures; the remainder were published in The Universal Review +during 1888, 1889, and 1890. + +I should perhaps explain why two other essays of his, which also +appeared in The Universal Review, have been omitted. + +The first of these, entitled "L'Affaire Holbein-Rippel," relates to +a drawing of Holbein's "Danse des Paysans," in the Basle Museum, +which is usually described as a copy, but which Butler believed to +be the work of Holbein himself. This essay requires to be +illustrated in so elaborate a manner that it was impossible to +include it in a book of this size. + +The second essay, which is a sketch of the career of the sculptor +Tabachetti, was published as the first section of an article +entitled "A Sculptor and a Shrine," of which the second section is +here given under the title, "The Sanctuary of Montrigone." The +section devoted to the sculptor represents all that Butler then knew +about Tabachetti, but since it was written various documents have +come to light, principally owing to the investigations of Cavaliere +Francesco Negri, of Casale Monferrato, which negative some of +Butler's most cherished conclusions. Had Butler lived he would +either have rewritten his essay in accordance with Cavaliere Negri's +discoveries, of which he fully recognised the value, or incorporated +them into the revised edition of "Ex Voto," which he intended to +publish. As it stands, the essay requires so much revision that I +have decided to omit it altogether, and to postpone giving English +readers a full account of Tabachetti's career until a second edition +of "Ex Voto" is required. Meanwhile I have given a brief summary of +the main facts of Tabachetti's life in a note (page 154) to the +essay on "Art in the Valley of Saas." Any one who wishes for +further details of the sculptor and his work will find them in +Cavaliere Negri's pamphlet, "Il Santuario di Crea" (Alessandria, +1902). + +The three essays grouped together under the title of "The Deadlock +in Darwinism" may be regarded as a postscript to Butler's four books +on evolution, viz., "Life and Habit," "Evolution, Old and New," +"Unconscious Memory" and "Luck or Cunning." An occasion for the +publication of these essays seemed to be afforded by the appearance +in 1889 of Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace's "Darwinism"; and although +nearly fourteen years have elapsed since they were published in the +Universal Review, I have no fear that they will be found to be out +of date. How far, indeed, the problem embodied in the deadlock of +which Butler speaks is from solution was conclusively shown by the +correspondence which appeared in the Times in May 1903, occasioned +by some remarks made at University College by Lord Kelvin in moving +a vote of thanks to Professor Henslow after his lecture on "Present +Day Rationalism." Lord Kelvin's claim for a recognition of the fact +that in organic nature scientific thought is compelled to accept the +idea of some kind of directive power, and his statement that +biologists are coming once more to a firm acceptance of a vital +principle, drew from several distinguished men of science retorts +heated enough to prove beyond a doubt that the gulf between the two +main divisions of evolutionists is as wide to-day as it was when +Butler wrote. It will be well, perhaps, for the benefit of readers +who have not followed the history of the theory of evolution during +its later developments, to state in a few words what these two main +divisions are. All evolutionists agree that the differences between +species are caused by the accumulation and transmission of +variations, but they do not agree as to the causes to which the +variations are due. The view held by the older evolutionists, +Buffon, Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck, who have been followed by many +modern thinkers, including Herbert Spencer and Butler, is that the +variations occur mainly as the result of effort and design; the +opposite view, which is that advocated by Mr. Wallace in +"Darwinism," is that the variations occur merely as the result of +chance. The former is sometimes called the theological view, +because it recognises the presence in organic nature of design, +whether it be called creative power, directive force, directivity, +or vital principle; the latter view, in which the existence of +design is absolutely negatived, is now usually described as +Weismannism, from the name of the writer who has been its principal +advocate in recent years. + +In conclusion, I must thank my friend Mr. Henry Festing Jones most +warmly for the invaluable assistance which he has given me in +preparing these essays for publication, in correcting the proofs, +and in compiling the introduction and notes. + +R. A. STREATFEILD. + + + + +QUIS DESIDERIO . . . ? {1} + + + +Like Mr. Wilkie Collins, I, too, have been asked to lay some of my +literary experiences before the readers of the Universal Review. It +occurred to me that the Review must be indeed universal before it +could open its pages to one so obscure as myself; but, nothing +daunted by the distinguished company among which I was for the first +time asked to move, I resolved to do as I was told, and went to the +British Museum to see what books I had written. Having refreshed my +memory by a glance at the catalogue, I was about to try and diminish +the large and ever-increasing circle of my non-readers when I became +aware of a calamity that brought me to a standstill, and indeed bids +fair, so far as I can see at present, to put an end to my literary +existence altogether. + +I should explain that I cannot write unless I have a sloping desk, +and the reading-room of the British Museum, where alone I can +compose freely, is unprovided with sloping desks. Like every other +organism, if I cannot get exactly what I want I make shift with the +next thing to it; true, there are no desks in the reading-room, but, +as I once heard a visitor from the country say, "it contains a large +number of very interesting works." I know it was not right, and +hope the Museum authorities will not be severe upon me if any of +them reads this confession; but I wanted a desk, and set myself to +consider which of the many very interesting works which a grateful +nation places at the disposal of its would-be authors was best +suited for my purpose. + +For mere reading I suppose one book is pretty much as good as +another; but the choice of a desk-book is a more serious matter. It +must be neither too thick nor too thin; it must be large enough to +make a substantial support; it must be strongly bound so as not to +yield or give; it must not be too troublesome to carry backwards and +forwards; and it must live on shelf C, D, or E, so that there need +be no stooping or reaching too high. These are the conditions which +a really good book must fulfil; simple, however, as they are, it is +surprising how few volumes comply with them satisfactorily; +moreover, being perhaps too sensitively conscientious, I allowed +another consideration to influence me, and was sincerely anxious not +to take a book which would be in constant use for reference by +readers, more especially as, if I did this, I might find myself +disturbed by the officials. + +For weeks I made experiments upon sundry poetical and philosophical +works, whose names I have forgotten, but could not succeed in +finding my ideal desk, until at length, more by luck than cunning, I +happened to light upon Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians," which +I had no sooner tried than I discovered it to be the very perfection +and ne plus ultra of everything that a book should be. It lived in +Case No. 2008, and I accordingly took at once to sitting in Row B, +where for the last dozen years or so I have sat ever since. + +The first thing I have done whenever I went to the Museum has been +to take down Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians" and carry it to +my seat. It is not the custom of modern writers to refer to the +works to which they are most deeply indebted, and I have never, that +I remember, mentioned it by name before; but it is to this book +alone that I have looked for support during many years of literary +labour, and it is round this to me invaluable volume that all my own +have page by page grown up. There is none in the Museum to which I +have been under anything like such constant obligation, none which I +can so ill spare, and none which I would choose so readily if I were +allowed to select one single volume and keep it for my own. + +On finding myself asked for a contribution to the Universal Review, +I went, as I have explained, to the Museum, and presently repaired +to bookcase No. 2008 to get my favourite volume. Alas! it was in +the room no longer. It was not in use, for its place was filled up +already; besides, no one ever used it but myself. Whether the ghost +of the late Mr. Frost has been so eminently unchristian as to +interfere, or whether the authorities have removed the book in +ignorance of the steady demand which there has been for it on the +part of at least one reader, are points I cannot determine. All I +know is that the book is gone, and I feel as Wordsworth is generally +supposed to have felt when he became aware that Lucy was in her +grave, and exclaimed so emphatically that this would make a +considerable difference to him, or words to that effect. + +Now I think of it, Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians" was very +like Lucy. The one resided at Dovedale in Derbyshire, the other in +Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury. I admit that I do not see the +resemblance here at this moment, but if I try to develop my +perception I shall doubtless ere long find a marvellously striking +one. In other respects, however, than mere local habitat the +likeness is obvious. Lucy was not particularly attractive either +inside or out--no more was Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians"; +there were few to praise her, and of those few still fewer could +bring themselves to like her; indeed, Wordsworth himself seems to +have been the only person who thought much about her one way or the +other. In like manner, I believe I was the only reader who thought +much one way or the other about Frost's "Lives of Eminent +Christians," but this in itself was one of the attractions of the +book; and as for the grief we respectively felt and feel, I believe +my own to be as deep as Wordsworth's, if not more so. + +I said above, "as Wordsworth is generally supposed to have felt"; +for any one imbued with the spirit of modern science will read +Wordsworth's poem with different eyes from those of a mere literary +critic. He will note that Wordsworth is most careful not to explain +the nature of the difference which the death of Lucy will occasion +to him. He tells us that there will be a difference; but there the +matter ends. The superficial reader takes it that he was very sorry +she was dead; it is, of course, possible that he may have actually +been so, but he has not said this. On the contrary, he has hinted +plainly that she was ugly, and generally disliked; she was only like +a violet when she was half-hidden from the view, and only fair as a +star when there were so few stars out that it was practically +impossible to make an invidious comparison. If there were as many +as even two stars the likeness was felt to be at an end. If +Wordsworth had imprudently promised to marry this young person +during a time when he had been unusually long in keeping to good +resolutions, and had afterwards seen some one whom he liked better, +then Lucy's death would undoubtedly have made a considerable +difference to him, and this is all that he has ever said that it +would do. What right have we to put glosses upon the masterly +reticence of a poet, and credit him with feelings possibly the very +reverse of those he actually entertained? + +Sometimes, indeed, I have been inclined to think that a mystery is +being hinted at more dark than any critic has suspected. I do not +happen to possess a copy of the poem, but the writer, if I am not +mistaken, says that "few could know when Lucy ceased to be." +"Ceased to be" is a suspiciously euphemistic expression, and the +words "few could know" are not applicable to the ordinary peaceful +death of a domestic servant such as Lucy appears to have been. No +matter how obscure the deceased, any number of people commonly can +know the day and hour of his or her demise, whereas in this case we +are expressly told it would be impossible for them to do so. +Wordsworth was nothing if not accurate, and would not have said that +few could know, but that few actually did know, unless he was aware +of circumstances that precluded all but those implicated in the +crime of her death from knowing the precise moment of its +occurrence. If Lucy was the kind of person not obscurely pourtrayed +in the poem; if Wordsworth had murdered her, either by cutting her +throat or smothering her, in concert, perhaps, with his friends +Southey and Coleridge; and if he had thus found himself released +from an engagement which had become irksome to him, or possibly from +the threat of an action for breach of promise, then there is not a +syllable in the poem with which he crowns his crime that is not +alive with meaning. On any other supposition to the general reader +it is unintelligible. + +We cannot be too guarded in the interpretations we put upon the +words of great poets. Take the young lady who never loved the dear +gazelle--and I don't believe she did; we are apt to think that Moore +intended us to see in this creation of his fancy a sweet, amiable, +but most unfortunate young woman, whereas all he has told us about +her points to an exactly opposite conclusion. In reality, he wished +us to see a young lady who had been an habitual complainer from her +earliest childhood; whose plants had always died as soon as she +bought them, while those belonging to her neighbours had flourished. +The inference is obvious, nor can we reasonably doubt that Moore +intended us to draw it; if her plants were the very first to fade +away, she was evidently the very first to neglect or otherwise +maltreat them. She did not give them enough water, or left the door +of her fern-ease open when she was cooking her dinner at the gas +stove, or kept them too near the paraffin oil, or other like folly; +and as for her temper, see what the gazelles did; as long as they +did not know her "well," they could just manage to exist, but when +they got to understand her real character, one after another felt +that death was the only course open to it, and accordingly died +rather than live with such a mistress. True, the young lady herself +said the gazelles loved her; but disagreeable people are apt to +think themselves amiable, and in view of the course invariably taken +by the gazelles themselves any one accustomed to weigh evidence will +hold that she was probably mistaken. + +I must, however, return to Frost's "Lives of Eminent Christians." I +will leave none of the ambiguity about my words in which Moore and +Wordsworth seem to have delighted. I am very sorry the book is +gone, and know not where to turn for its successor. Till I have +found a substitute I can write no more, and I do not know how to +find even a tolerable one. I should try a volume of Migne's +"Complete Course of Patrology," but I do not like books in more than +one volume, for the volumes vary in thickness, and one never can +remember which one took; the four volumes, however, of Bede in +Giles's "Anglican Fathers" are not open to this objection, and I +have reserved them for favourable consideration. Mather's +"Magnalia" might do, but the binding does not please me; Cureton's +"Corpus Ignatianum" might also do if it were not too thin. I do not +like taking Norton's "Genuineness of the Gospels," as it is just +possible some one may be wanting to know whether the Gospels are +genuine or not, and be unable to find out because I have got Mr. +Norton's book. Baxter's "Church History of England," Lingard's +"Anglo-Saxon Church," and Cardwell's "Documentary Annals," though +none of them as good as Frost, are works of considerable merit; but +on the whole I think Arvine's "Cyclopedia of Moral and Religious +Anecdote" is perhaps the one book in the room which comes within +measurable distance of Frost. I should probably try this book +first, but it has a fatal objection in its too seductive title. "I +am not curious," as Miss Lottie Venne says in one of her parts, "but +I like to know," and I might be tempted to pervert the book from its +natural uses and open it, so as to find out what kind of a thing a +moral and religious anecdote is. I know, of course, that there are +a great many anecdotes in the Bible, but no one thinks of calling +them either moral or religious, though some of them certainly seem +as if they might fairly find a place in Mr. Arvine's work. There +are some things, however, which it is better not to know, and take +it all round I do not think I should be wise in putting myself in +the way of temptation, and adopting Arvine as the successor to my +beloved and lamented Frost. + +Some successor I must find, or I must give up writing altogether, +and this I should be sorry to do. I have only as yet written about +a third, or from that--counting works written but not published--to +a half, of the books which I have set myself to write. It would not +so much matter if old age was not staring me in the face. Dr. Parr +said it was "a beastly shame for an old man not to have laid down a +good cellar of port in his youth"; I, like the greater number, I +suppose, of those who write books at all, write in order that I may +have something to read in my old age when I can write no longer. I +know what I shall like better than any one can tell me, and write +accordingly; if my career is nipped in the bud, as seems only too +likely, I really do not know where else I can turn for present +agreeable occupation, nor yet how to make suitable provision for my +later years. Other writers can, of course, make excellent provision +for their own old ages, but they cannot do so for mine, any more +than I should succeed if I were to try to cater for theirs. It is +one of those cases in which no man can make agreement for his +brother. + +I have no heart for continuing this article, and if I had, I have +nothing of interest to say. No one's literary career can have been +smoother or more unchequered than mine. I have published all my +books at my own expense, and paid for them in due course. What can +be conceivably more unromantic? For some years I had a little +literary grievance against the authorities of the British Museum +because they would insist on saying in their catalogue that I had +published three sermons on Infidelity in the year 1820. I thought I +had not, and got them out to see. They were rather funny, but they +were not mine. Now, however, this grievance has been removed. I +had another little quarrel with them because they would describe me +as "of St. John's College, Cambridge," an establishment for which I +have the most profound veneration, but with which I have not had the +honour to be connected for some quarter of a century. At last they +said they would change this description if I would only tell them +what I was, for, though they had done their best to find out, they +had themselves failed. I replied with modest pride that I was a +Bachelor of Arts. I keep all my other letters inside my name, not +outside. They mused and said it was unfortunate that I was not a +Master of Arts. Could I not get myself made a Master? I said I +understood that a Mastership was an article the University could not +do under about five pounds, and that I was not disposed to go +sixpence higher than three ten. They again said it was a pity, for +it would be very inconvenient to them if I did not keep to something +between a bishop and a poet. I might be anything I liked in reason, +provided I showed proper respect for the alphabet; but they had got +me between "Samuel Butler, bishop," and "Samuel Butler, poet." It +would be very troublesome to shift me, and bachelor came before +bishop. This was reasonable, so I replied that, under those +circumstances, if they pleased, I thought I would like to be a +philosophical writer. They embraced the solution, and, no matter +what I write now, I must remain a philosophical writer as long as I +live, for the alphabet will hardly be altered in my time, and I must +be something between "Bis" and "Poe." If I could get a volume of my +excellent namesake's "Hudibras" out of the list of my works, I +should be robbed of my last shred of literary grievance, so I say +nothing about this, but keep it secret, lest some worse thing should +happen to me. Besides, I have a great respect for my namesake, and +always say that if "Erewhon" had been a racehorse it would have been +got by "Hudibras" out of "Analogy." Some one said this to me many +years ago, and I felt so much flattered that I have been repeating +the remark as my own ever since. + +But how small are these grievances as compared with those endured +without a murmur by hundreds of writers far more deserving than +myself. When I see the scores and hundreds of workers in the +reading-room who have done so much more than I have, but whose work +is absolutely fruitless to themselves, and when I think of the +prompt recognition obtained by my own work, I ask myself what I have +done to be thus rewarded. On the other hand, the feeling that I +have succeeded far beyond my deserts hitherto, makes it all the +harder for me to acquiesce without complaint in the extinction of a +career which I honestly believe to be a promising one; and once more +I repeat that, unless the Museum authorities give me back my Frost, +or put a locked clasp on Arvine, my career must be extinguished. +Give me back Frost, and, if life and health are spared, I will write +another dozen of volumes yet before I hang up my fiddle--if so +serious a confusion of metaphors may be pardoned. I know from long +experience how kind and considerate both the late and present +superintendents of the reading-room were and are, but I doubt how +far either of them would be disposed to help me on this occasion; +continue, however, to rob me of my Frost, and, whatever else I may +do, I will write no more books. + +Note by Dr. Garnett, British Museum.--The frost has broken up. Mr. +Butler is restored to literature. Mr. Mudie may make himself easy. +England will still boast a humourist; and the late Mr. Darwin (to +whose posthumous machinations the removal of the book was owing) +will continue to be confounded.--R. GANNETT. + + + +RAMBLINGS IN CHEAPSIDE {2} + + + +Walking the other day in Cheapside I saw some turtles in Mr. +Sweeting's window, and was tempted to stay and look at them. As I +did so I was struck not more by the defences with which they were +hedged about, than by the fatuousness of trying to hedge that in at +all which, if hedged thoroughly, must die of its own defencefulness. +The holes for the head and feet through which the turtle leaks out, +as it were, on to the exterior world, and through which it again +absorbs the exterior world into itself--"catching on" through them +to things that are thus both turtle and not turtle at one and the +same time--these holes stultify the armour, and show it to have been +designed by a creature with more of faithfulness to a fixed idea, +and hence one-sidedness, than of that quick sense of relative +importances and their changes, which is the main factor of good +living. + +The turtle obviously had no sense of proportion; it differed so +widely from myself that I could not comprehend it; and as this word +occurred to me, it occurred also that until my body comprehended its +body in a physical material sense, neither would my mind be able to +comprehend its mind with any thoroughness. For unity of mind can +only be consummated by unity of body; everything, therefore, must be +in some respects both knave and fool to all that which has not eaten +it, or by which it has not been eaten. As long as the turtle was in +the window and I in the street outside, there was no chance of our +comprehending one another. + +Nevertheless I knew that I could get it to agree with me if I could +so effectually button-hole and fasten on to it as to eat it. Most +men have an easy method with turtle soup, and I had no misgiving but +that if I could bring my first premise to bear I should prove the +better reasoner. My difficulty lay in this initial process, for I +had not with me the argument that would alone compel Mr. Sweeting +think that I ought to be allowed to convert the turtles--I mean I +had no money in my pocket. No missionary enterprise can be carried +on without any money at all, but even so small a sum as half-a-crown +would, I suppose, have enabled me to bring the turtle partly round, +and with many half-crowns I could in time no doubt convert the lot, +for the turtle needs must go where the money drives. If, as is +alleged, the world stands on a turtle, the turtle stands on money. +No money no turtle. As for money, that stands on opinion, credit, +trust, faith--things that, though highly material in connection with +money, are still of immaterial essence. + +The steps are perfectly plain. The men who caught the turtles +brought a fairly strong and definite opinion to bear upon them, that +passed into action, and later on into money. They thought the +turtles would come that way, and verified their opinion; on this, +will and action were generated, with the result that the men turned +the turtles on their backs and carried them off. Mr. Sweeting +touched these men with money, which is the outward and visible sign +of verified opinion. The customer touches Mr. Sweeting with money, +Mr. Sweeting touches the waiter and the cook with money. They touch +the turtle with skill and verified opinion. Finally, the customer +applies the clinching argument that brushes all sophisms aside, and +bids the turtle stand protoplasm to protoplasm with himself, to know +even as it is known. + +But it must be all touch, touch, touch; skill, opinion, power, and +money, passing in and out with one another in any order we like, but +still link to link and touch to touch. If there is failure anywhere +in respect of opinion, skill, power, or money, either as regards +quantity or quality, the chain can be no stronger than its weakest +link, and the turtle and the clinching argument will fly asunder. +Of course, if there is an initial failure in connection, through +defect in any member of the chain, or of connection between the +links, it will no more be attempted to bring the turtle and the +clinching argument together, than it will to chain up a dog with two +pieces of broken chain that are disconnected. The contact +throughout must be conceived as absolute; and yet perfect contact is +inconceivable by us, for on becoming perfect it ceases to be +contact, and becomes essential, once for all inseverable, identity. +The most absolute contact short of this is still contact by courtesy +only. So here, as everywhere else, Eurydice glides off as we are +about to grasp her. We can see nothing face to face; our utmost +seeing is but a fumbling of blind finger-ends in an overcrowded +pocket. + +Presently my own blind finger-ends fished up the conclusion, that as +I had neither time nor money to spend on perfecting the chain that +would put me in full spiritual contact with Mr. Sweeting's turtles, +I had better leave them to complete their education at some one +else's expense rather than mine, so I walked on towards the Bank. +As I did so it struck me how continually we are met by this melting +of one existence into another. The limits of the body seem well +defined enough as definitions go, but definitions seldom go far. +What, for example, can seem more distinct from a man than his banker +or his solicitor? Yet these are commonly so much parts of him that +he can no more cut them off and grow new ones, than he can grow new +legs or arms; neither must he wound his solicitor; a wound in the +solicitor is a very serious thing. As for his bank--failure of his +bank's action may be as fatal to a man as failure of his heart. I +have said nothing about the medical or spiritual adviser, but most +men grow into the society that surrounds them by the help of these +four main tap-roots, and not only into the world of humanity, but +into the universe at large. We can, indeed, grow butchers, bakers, +and greengrocers, almost ad libitum, but these are low developments, +and correspond to skin, hair, or finger-nails. Those of us again +who are not highly enough organised to have grown a solicitor or +banker can generally repair the loss of whatever social organisation +they may possess as freely as lizards are said to grow new tails; +but this with the higher social, as well as organic, developments is +only possible to a very limited extent. + +The doctrine of metempsychosis, or transmigration of souls--a +doctrine to which the foregoing considerations are for the most part +easy corollaries--crops up no matter in what direction we allow our +thoughts to wander. And we meet instances of transmigration of body +as well as of soul. I do not mean that both body and soul have +transmigrated together, far from it; but that, as we can often +recognise a transmigrated mind in an alien body, so we not less +often see a body that is clearly only a transmigration, linked on to +some one else's new and alien soul. We meet people every day whose +bodies are evidently those of men and women long dead, but whose +appearance we know through their portraits. We see them going about +in omnibuses, railway carriages, and in all public places. The +cards have been shuffled, and they have drawn fresh lots in life and +nationalities, but any one fairly well up in mediaeval and last +century portraiture knows them at a glance. + +Going down once towards Italy I saw a young man in the train whom I +recognised, only he seemed to have got younger. He was with a +friend, and his face was in continual play, but for some little time +I puzzled in vain to recollect where it was that I had seen him +before. All of a sudden I remembered he was King Francis I. of +France. I had hitherto thought the face of this king impossible, +but when I saw it in play I understood it. His great contemporary +Henry VIII. keeps a restaurant in Oxford Street. Falstaff drove one +of the St. Gothard diligences for many years, and only retired when +the railway was opened. Titian once made me a pair of boots at +Vicenza, and not very good ones. At Modena I had my hair cut by a +young man whom I perceived to be Raffaelle. The model who sat to +him for his celebrated Madonnas is first lady in a confectionery +establishment at Montreal. She has a little motherly pimple on the +left side of her nose that is misleading at first, but on +examination she is readily recognised; probably Raffaelle's model +had the pimple too, but Raffaelle left it out--as he would. + +Handel, of course, is Madame Patey. Give Madame Patey Handel's wig +and clothes, and there would be no telling her from Handel. It is +not only that the features and the shape of the head are the same, +but there is a certain imperiousness of expression and attitude +about Handel which he hardly attempts to conceal in Madame Patey. +It is a curious coincidence that he should continue to be such an +incomparable renderer of his own music. Pope Julius II. was the +late Mr. Darwin. Rameses II. is a blind woman now, and stands in +Holborn, holding a tin mug. I never could understand why I always +found myself humming "They oppressed them with burthens" when I +passed her, till one day I was looking in Mr. Spooner's window in +the Strand, and saw a photograph of Rameses II. Mary Queen of Scots +wears surgical boots and is subject to fits, near the Horse Shoe in +Tottenham Court Road. + +Michael Angelo is a commissionaire; I saw him on board the Glen +Rosa, which used to run every day from London to Clacton-on-Sea and +back. It gave me quite a turn when I saw him coming down the stairs +from the upper deck, with his bronzed face, flattened nose, and with +the familiar bar upon his forehead. I never liked Michael Angelo, +and never shall, but I am afraid of him, and was near trying to hide +when I saw him coming towards me. He had not got his +commissionaire's uniform on, and I did not know he was one till I +met him a month or so later in the Strand. When we got to Blackwall +the music struck up and people began to dance. I never saw a man +dance so much in my life. He did not miss a dance all the way to +Clacton, nor all the way back again, and when not dancing he was +flirting and cracking jokes. I could hardly believe my eyes when I +reflected that this man had painted the famous "Last Judgment," and +had made all those statues. + +Dante is, or was a year or two ago, a waiter at Brissago on the Lago +Maggiore, only he is better-tempered-looking, and has a more +intellectual expression. He gave me his ideas upon beauty: "Tutto +ch' e vero e bello," he exclaimed, with all his old self-confidence. +I am not afraid of Dante. I know people by their friends, and he +went about with Virgil, so I said with some severity, "No, Dante, il +naso della Signora Robinson e vero, ma non e bello"; and he admitted +I was right. Beatrice's name is Towler; she is waitress at a small +inn in German Switzerland. I used to sit at my window and hear +people call "Towler, Towler, Towler," fifty times in a forenoon. +She was the exact antithesis to Abra; Abra, if I remember, used to +come before they called her name, but no matter how often they +called Towler, every one came before she did. I suppose they spelt +her name Taula, but to me it sounded Towler; I never, however, met +any one else with this name. She was a sweet, artless little hussy, +who made me play the piano to her, and she said it was lovely. Of +course I only played my own compositions; so I believed her, and it +all went off very nicely. I thought it might save trouble if I did +not tell her who she really was, so I said nothing about it. + +I met Socrates once. He was my muleteer on an excursion which I +will not name, for fear it should identify the man. The moment I +saw my guide I knew he was somebody, but for the life of me I could +not remember who. All of a sudden it flashed across me that he was +Socrates. He talked enough for six, but it was all in dialetto, so +I could not understand him, nor, when I had discovered who he was, +did I much try to do so. He was a good creature, a trifle given to +stealing fruit and vegetables, but an amiable man enough. He had +had a long day with his mule and me, and he only asked me five +francs. I gave him ten, for I pitied his poor old patched boots, +and there was a meekness about him that touched me. "And now, +Socrates," said I at parting, "we go on our several ways, you to +steal tomatoes, I to filch ideas from other people; for the rest-- +which of these two roads will be the better going, our father which +is in heaven knows, but we know not." + +I have never seen Mendelssohn, but there is a fresco of him on the +terrace, or open-air dining-room, of an inn at Chiavenna. He is not +called Mendelssohn, but I knew him by his legs. He is in the +costume of a dandy of some five-and-forty years ago, is smoking a +cigar, and appears to be making an offer of marriage to his cook. +Beethoven both my friend Mr. H. Festing Jones and I have had the +good fortune to meet; he is an engineer now, and does not know one +note from another; he has quite lost his deafness, is married, and +is, of course, a little squat man with the same refractory hair that +he always had. It was very interesting to watch him, and Jones +remarked that before the end of dinner he had become positively +posthumous. One morning I was told the Beethovens were going away, +and before long I met their two heavy boxes being carried down the +stairs. The boxes were so squab and like their owners, that I half +thought for a moment that they were inside, and should hardly have +been surprised to see them spring up like a couple of Jacks-in-the- +box. "Sono indentro?" said I, with a frown of wonder, pointing to +the boxes. The porters knew what I meant, and laughed. But there +is no end to the list of people whom I have been able to recognise, +and before I had got through it myself, I found I had walked some +distance, and had involuntarily paused in front of a second-hand +bookstall. + +I do not like books. I believe I have the smallest library of any +literary man in London, and I have no wish to increase it. I keep +my books at the British Museum and at Mudie's, and it makes me very +angry if any one gives me one for my private library. I once heard +two ladies disputing in a railway carriage as to whether one of them +had or had not been wasting money. "I spent it in books," said the +accused, "and it's not wasting money to buy books." "Indeed, my +dear, I think it is," was the rejoinder, and in practice I agree +with it. Webster's Dictionary, Whitaker's Almanack, and Bradshaw's +Railway Guide should be sufficient for any ordinary library; it will +be time enough to go beyond these when the mass of useful and +entertaining matter which they provide has been mastered. +Nevertheless, I admit that sometimes, if not particularly busy, I +stop at a second-hand bookstall and turn over a book or two from +mere force of habit. + +I know not what made me pick up a copy of AEschylus--of course in an +English version--or rather I know not what made AEschylus take up +with me, for he took me rather than I him; but no sooner had he got +me than he began puzzling me, as he has done any time this forty +years, to know wherein his transcendent merit can be supposed to +lie. To me he is, like the greater number of classics in all ages +and countries, a literary Struldbrug, rather than a true ambrosia- +fed immortal. There are true immortals, but they are few and far +between; most classics are as great impostors dead as they were when +living, and while posing as gods are, five-sevenths of them, only +Struldbrugs. It comforts me to remember that Aristophanes liked +AEschylus no better than I do. True, he praises him by comparison +with Sophocles and Euripides, but he only does so that he may run +down these last more effectively. Aristophanes is a safe man to +follow, nor do I see why it should not be as correct to laugh with +him as to pull a long face with the Greek Professors; but this is +neither here nor there, for no one really cares about AEschylus; the +more interesting question is how he contrived to make so many people +for so many years pretend to care about him. + +Perhaps he married somebody's daughter. If a man would get hold of +the public ear, he must pay, marry, or fight. I have never +understood that AEschylus was a man of means, and the fighters do +not write poetry, so I suppose he must have married a theatrical +manager's daughter, and got his plays brought out that way. The ear +of any age or country is like its land, air, and water; it seems +limitless but is really limited, and is already in the keeping of +those who naturally enough will have no squatting on such valuable +property. It is written and talked up to as closely as the means of +subsistence are bred up to by a teeming population. There is not a +square inch of it but is in private hands, and he who would freehold +any part of it must do so by purchase, marriage, or fighting, in the +usual way--and fighting gives the longest, safest tenure. The +public itself has hardly more voice in the question who shall have +its ear, than the land has in choosing its owners. It is farmed as +those who own it think most profitable to themselves, and small +blame to them; nevertheless, it has a residuum of mulishness which +the land has not, and does sometimes dispossess its tenants. It is +in this residuum that those who fight place their hope and trust. + +Or perhaps AEschylus squared the leading critics of his time. When +one comes to think of it, he must have done so, for how is it +conceivable that such plays should have had such runs if he had not? +I met a lady one year in Switzerland who had some parrots that +always travelled with her and were the idols of her life. These +parrots would not let any one read aloud in their presence, unless +they heard their own names introduced from time to time. If these +were freely interpolated into the text they would remain as still as +stones, for they thought the reading was about themselves. If it +was not about them it could not be allowed. The leaders of +literature are like these parrots; they do not look at what a man +writes, nor if they did would they understand it much better than +the parrots do; but they like the sound of their own names, and if +these are freely interpolated in a tone they take as friendly, they +may even give ear to an outsider. Otherwise they will scream him +off if they can. + +I should not advise any one with ordinary independence of mind to +attempt the public ear unless he is confident that he can out-lung +and out-last his own generation; for if he has any force, people +will and ought to be on their guard against him, inasmuch as there +is no knowing where he may not take them. Besides, they have staked +their money on the wrong men so often without suspecting it, that +when there comes one whom they do suspect it would be madness not to +bet against him. True, he may die before he has out-screamed his +opponents, but that has nothing to do with it. If his scream was +well pitched it will sound clearer when he is dead. We do not know +what death is. If we know so little about life which we have +experienced, how shall we know about death which we have not--and in +the nature of things never can? Every one, as I said years ago in +"Alps and Sanctuaries," is an immortal to himself, for he cannot +know that he is dead until he is dead, and when dead how can he know +anything about anything? All we know is, that even the humblest +dead may live long after all trace of the body has disappeared; we +see them doing it in the bodies and memories of those that come +after them; and not a few live so much longer and more effectually +than is desirable, that it has been necessary to get rid of them by +Act of Parliament. It is love that alone gives life, and the truest +life is that which we live not in ourselves but vicariously in +others, and with which we have no concern. Our concern is so to +order ourselves that we may be of the number of them that enter into +life--although we know it not. + +AEschylus did so order himself; but his life is not of that +inspiriting kind that can be won through fighting the good fight +only--or being believed to have fought it. His voice is the echo of +a drone, drone-begotten and drone-sustained. It is not a tone that +a man must utter or die--nay, even though he die; and likely enough +half the allusions and hard passages in AEschylus of which we can +make neither head nor tail are in reality only puffs of some of the +literary leaders of his time. + +The lady above referred to told me more about her parrots. She was +like a Nasmyth's hammer going slow--very gentle, but irresistible. +She always read the newspaper to them. What was the use of having a +newspaper if one did not read it to one's parrots? + +"And have you divined," I asked, "to which side they incline in +politics?" + +"They do not like Mr. Gladstone," was the somewhat freezing answer; +"this is the only point on which we disagree, for I adore him. +Don't ask more about this, it is a great grief to me. I tell them +everything," she continued, "and hide no secret from them." + +"But can any parrot be trusted to keep a secret?" + +"Mine can." + +"And on Sundays do you give them the same course of reading as on a +week-day, or do you make a difference?" + +"On Sundays I always read them a genealogical chapter from the Old +or New Testament, for I can thus introduce their names without +profanity. I always keep tea by me in case they should ask for it +in the night, and I have an Etna to warm it for them; they take milk +and sugar. The old white-headed clergyman came to see them last +night; it was very painful, for Jocko reminded him so strongly of +his late . . . " + +I thought she was going to say "wife," but it proved to have been +only of a parrot that he had once known and loved. + +One evening she was in difficulties about the quarantine, which was +enforced that year on the Italian frontier. The local doctor had +gone down that morning to see the Italian doctor and arrange some +details. "Then, perhaps, my dear," she said to her husband, "he is +the quarantine." "No, my love," replied her husband. "The +quarantine is not a person, it is a place where they put people"; +but she would not be comforted, and suspected the quarantine as an +enemy that might at any moment pounce out upon her and her parrots. +So a lady told me once that she had been in like trouble about the +anthem. She read in her prayer-book that in choirs and places where +they sing "here followeth the anthem," yet the person with this most +mysteriously sounding name never did follow. They had a choir, and +no one could say the church was not a place where they sang, for +they did sing--both chants and hymns. Why, then, this persistent +slackness on the part of the anthem, who at this juncture should +follow her papa, the rector, into the reading-desk? No doubt he +would come some day, and then what would he be like? Fair or dark? +Tall or short? Would he be bald and wear spectacles like papa, or +would he be young and good-looking? Anyhow, there was something +wrong, for it was announced that he would follow, and he never did +follow; therefore there was no knowing what he might not do next. + +I heard of the parrots a year or two later as giving lessons in +Italian to an English maid. I do not know what their terms were. +Alas! since then both they and their mistress have joined the +majority. When the poor lady felt her end was near she desired (and +the responsibility for this must rest with her, not me) that the +birds might be destroyed, as fearing that they might come to be +neglected, and knowing that they could never be loved again as she +had loved them. On being told that all was over, she said, "Thank +you," and immediately expired. + +Reflecting in such random fashion, and strolling with no greater +method, I worked my way back through Cheapside and found myself once +more in front of Sweeting's window. Again the turtles attracted me. +They were alive, and so far at any rate they agreed with me. Nay, +they had eyes, mouths, legs, if not arms, and feet, so there was +much in which we were both of a mind, but surely they must be +mistaken in arming themselves so very heavily. Any creature on +getting what the turtle aimed at would overreach itself and be +landed not in safety but annihilation. It should have no communion +with the outside world at all, for death could creep in wherever the +creature could creep out; and it must creep out somewhere if it was +to hook on to outside things. What death can be more absolute than +such absolute isolation? Perfect death, indeed, if it were +attainable (which it is not), is as near perfect security as we can +reach, but it is not the kind of security aimed at by any animal +that is at the pains of defending itself. For such want to have +things both ways, desiring the livingness of life without its +perils, and the safety of death without its deadness, and some of us +do actually get this for a considerable time, but we do not get it +by plating ourselves with armour as the turtle does. We tried this +in the Middle Ages, and no longer mock ourselves with the weight of +armour that our forefathers carried in battle. Indeed the more +deadly the weapons of attack become the more we go into the fight +slug-wise. + +Slugs have ridden their contempt for defensive armour as much to +death as the turtles their pursuit of it. They have hardly more +than skin enough to hold themselves together; they court death every +time they cross the road. Yet death comes not to them more than to +the turtle, whose defences are so great that there is little left +inside to be defended. Moreover, the slugs fare best in the long +run, for turtles are dying out, while slugs are not, and there must +be millions of slugs all the world over for every single turtle. Of +the two vanities, therefore, that of the slug seems most +substantial. + +In either case the creature thinks itself safe, but is sure to be +found out sooner or later; nor is it easy to explain this mockery +save by reflecting that everything must have its meat in due season, +and that meat can only be found for such a multitude of mouths by +giving everything as meat in due season to something else. This is +like the Kilkenny cats, or robbing Peter to pay Paul; but it is the +way of the world, and as every animal must contribute in kind to the +picnic of the universe, one does not see what better arrangement +could be made than the providing each race with a hereditary +fallacy, which shall in the end get it into a scrape, but which +shall generally stand the wear and tear of life for some time. "Do +ut des" is the writing on all flesh to him that eats it; and no +creature is dearer to itself than it is to some other that would +devour it. + +Nor is there any statement or proposition more invulnerable than +living forms are. Propositions prey upon and are grounded upon one +another just like living forms. They support one another as plants +and animals do; they are based ultimately on credit, or faith, +rather than the cash of irrefragable conviction. The whole universe +is carried on on the credit system, and if the mutual confidence on +which it is based were to collapse, it must itself collapse +immediately. Just or unjust, it lives by faith; it is based on +vague and impalpable opinion that by some inscrutable process passes +into will and action, and is made manifest in matter and in flesh: +it is meteoric--suspended in midair; it is the baseless fabric of a +vision so vast, so vivid, and so gorgeous that no base can seem more +broad than such stupendous baselessness, and yet any man can bring +it about his ears by being over-curious; when faith fails a system +based on faith fails also. + +Whether the universe is really a paying concern, or whether it is an +inflated bubble that must burst sooner or later, this is another +matter. If people were to demand cash payment in irrefragable +certainty for everything that they have taken hitherto as paper +money on the credit of the bank of public opinion, is there money +enough behind it all to stand so great a drain even on so great a +reserve? Probably there is not, but happily there can be no such +panic, for even though the cultured classes may do so, the +uncultured are too dull to have brains enough to commit such +stupendous folly. It takes a long course of academic training to +educate a man up to the standard which he must reach before he can +entertain such questions seriously, and by a merciful dispensation +of Providence, university training is almost as costly as it is +unprofitable. The majority will thus be always unable to afford it, +and will base their opinions on mother wit and current opinion +rather than on demonstration. + +So I turned my steps homewards; I saw a good many more things on my +way home, but I was told that I was not to see more this time than I +could get into twelve pages of the Universal Review; I must +therefore reserve any remark which I think might perhaps entertain +the reader for another occasion. + + + +THE AUNT, THE NIECES, AND THE DOG {3} + + + +When a thing is old, broken, and useless we throw it on the dust- +heap, but when it is sufficiently old, sufficiently broken, and +sufficiently useless we give money for it, put it into a museum, and +read papers over it which people come long distances to hear. By- +and-by, when the whirligig of time has brought on another revenge, +the museum itself becomes a dust-heap, and remains so till after +long ages it is re-discovered, and valued as belonging to a neo- +rubbish age--containing, perhaps, traces of a still older paleo- +rubbish civilisation. So when people are old, indigent, and in all +respects incapable, we hold them in greater and greater contempt as +their poverty and impotence increase, till they reach the pitch when +they are actually at the point to die, whereon they become sublime. +Then we place every resource our hospitals can command at their +disposal, and show no stint in our consideration for them. + +It is the same with all our interests. We care most about extremes +of importance and of unimportance; but extremes of importance are +tainted with fear, and a very imperfect fear casteth out love. +Extremes of unimportance cannot hurt us, therefore we are well +disposed towards them; the means may come to do so, therefore we do +not love them. Hence we pick a fly out of a milk-jug and watch with +pleasure over its recovery, for we are confident that under no +conceivable circumstances will it want to borrow money from us; but +we feel less sure about a mouse, so we show it no quarter. The +compilers of our almanacs well know this tendency of our natures, so +they tell us, not when Noah went into the ark, nor when the temple +of Jerusalem was dedicated, but that Lindley Murray, grammarian, +died January 16, 1826. This is not because they could not find so +many as three hundred and sixty-five events of considerable interest +since the creation of the world, but because they well know we would +rather hear of something less interesting. We care most about what +concerns us either very closely, or so little that practically we +have nothing whatever to do with it. + +I once asked a young Italian, who professed to have a considerable +knowledge of English literature, which of all our poems pleased him +best. He replied without a moment's hesitation:- + + +"Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle, + The cow jumped over the moon; +The little dog laughed to see such sport, + And the dish ran away with the spoon." + + +He said this was better than anything in Italian. They had Dante +and Tasso, and ever so many more great poets, but they had nothing +comparable to "Hey diddle diddle," nor had he been able to conceive +how any one could have written it. Did I know the author's name, +and had we given him a statue? On this I told him of the young lady +of Harrow who would go to church in a barrow, and plied him with +whatever rhyming nonsense I could call to mind, but it was no use; +all of these things had an element of reality that robbed them of +half their charm, whereas "Hey diddle diddle" had nothing in it that +could conceivably concern him. + +So again it is with the things that gall us most. What is it that +rises up against us at odd times and smites us in the face again and +again for years after it has happened? That we spent all the best +years of our life in learning what we have found to be a swindle, +and to have been known to be a swindle by those who took money for +misleading us? That those on whom we most leaned most betrayed us? +That we have only come to feel our strength when there is little +strength left of any kind to feel? These things will hardly much +disturb a man of ordinary good temper. But that he should have said +this or that little unkind and wanton saying; that he should have +gone away from this or that hotel and given a shilling too little to +the waiter; that his clothes were shabby at such or such a garden- +party--these things gall us as a corn will sometimes do, though the +loss of a limb way not be seriously felt. + +I have been reminded lately of these considerations with more than +common force by reading the very voluminous correspondence left by +my grandfather, Dr. Butler, of Shrewsbury, whose memoirs I am +engaged in writing. I have found a large number of interesting +letters on subjects of serious import, but must confess that it is +to the hardly less numerous lighter letters that I have been most +attracted, nor do I feel sure that my eminent namesake did not share +my predilection. Among other letters in my possession I have one +bundle that has been kept apart, and has evidently no connection +with Dr. Butler's own life. I cannot use these letters, therefore, +for my book, but over and above the charm of their inspired +spelling, I find them of such an extremely trivial nature that I +incline to hope the reader may derive as much amusement from them as +I have done myself, and venture to give them the publicity here +which I must refuse them in my book. The dates and signatures have, +with the exception of Mrs. Newton's, been carefully erased, but I +have collected that they were written by the two servants of a +single lady who resided at no great distance from London, to two +nieces of the said lady who lived in London itself. The aunt never +writes, but always gets one of the servants to do so for her. She +appears either as "your aunt" or as "She"; her name is not given, +but she is evidently looked upon with a good deal of awe by all who +had to do with her. + +The letters almost all of them relate to visits either of the aunt +to London, or of the nieces to the aunt's home, which, from +occasional allusions to hopping, I gather to have been in Kent, +Sussex, or Surrey. I have arranged them to the best of my power, +and take the following to be the earliest. It has no signature, but +is not in the handwriting of the servant who styles herself +Elizabeth, or Mrs. Newton. It runs:- + + +"MADAM,--Your Aunt Wishes me to inform you she will be glad if you +will let hir know if you think of coming To hir House thiss month or +Next as she cannot have you in September on a kount of the Hoping If +you ar coming she thinkes she had batter Go to London on the Day you +com to hir House the says you shall have everry Thing raddy for you +at hir House and Mrs. Newton to meet you and stay with you till She +returnes a gann. + +"if you arnot Coming thiss Summer She will be in London before thiss +Month is out and will Sleep on the Sofy As She willnot be in London +more thann two nits. and She Says she willnot truble you on anny a +kount as She Will returne the Same Day before She will plage you +anny more. but She thanks you for asking hir to London. but She says +She cannot leve the house at prassant She sayhir Survants ar to do +for you as she cannot lodge yours nor she willnot have thim in at +the house anny more to brake and destroy hir thinks and beslive hir +and make up Lies by hir and Skandel as your too did She says she +mens to pay fore 2 Nits and one day, She says the Pepelwill let hir +have it if you ask thim to let hir: you Will be so good as to let +hir know sun: wish She is to do, as She says She dos not care anny +thing a bout it. which way tiss she is batter than She was and +desirs hir Love to bouth bouth. + +"Your aunt wises to know how the silk Clocks ar madup [how the silk +cloaks are made up] with a Cape or a wood as she is a goin to have +one madeup to rideout in in hir littel shas [chaise]. + +"Charles is a butty and so good. + +"Mr & Mrs Newton ar quite wall & desires to be remembered to you." + + +I can throw no light on the meaning of the verb to "beslive." Each +letter in the MS. is so admirably formed that there can be no +question about the word being as I have given it. Nor have I been +able to discover what is referred to by the words "Charles is a +butty and so good." We shall presently meet with a Charles who +"flies in the Fier," but that Charles appears to have been in +London, whereas this one is evidently in Kent, or wherever the aunt +lived. + +The next letter is from Mrs. Newton + + +"DER Miss --, I Receve your Letter your Aunt is vary Ill and +Lowspireted I Donte think your Aunt wood Git up all Day if My Sister +Wasnot to Persage her We all Think hir lif is two monopolous. you +Wish to know Who Was Liveing With your Aunt. that is My Sister and +Willian--and Cariline--as Cock and Old Poll Pepper is Come to Stay +With her a Littel Wile and I hoped [hopped] for Your Aunt, and Harry +has Worked for your Aunt all the Summer. Your Aunt and Harry Whent +to the Wells Races and Spent a very Pleasant Day your Aunt has Lost +Old Fanney Sow She Died about a Week a Go Harry he Wanted your Aunt +to have her killed and send her to London and Shee Wold Fech her 11 +pounds the Farmers have Lost a Greet Deal of Cattel such as Hogs and +Cows What theay call the Plage I Whent to your Aunt as you Wish Mee +to Do But She Told Mee She Did not wont aney Boddy She Told Mee She +Should Like to Come up to see you But She Cant Come know for she is +Boddyley ill and Harry Donte Work there know But he Go up there Once +in Two or Three Day Harry Offered is self to Go up to Live With your +Aunt But She Made him know Ancer. I hay Been up to your Aunt at +Work for 5 Weeks Hopping and Ragluting Your Aunt Donte Eat nor Drink +But vary Littel indeed. + +"I am Happy to Say We are Both Quite Well and I am Glad no hear you +are Both Quite Well + +"MRS NEWTON." + + +This seems to have made the nieces propose to pay a visit to their +aunt, perhaps to try and relieve the monopoly of her existence and +cheer her up a little. In their letter, doubtless, the dog motive +is introduced that is so finely developed presently by Mrs. Newton. +I should like to have been able to give the theme as enounced by the +nieces themselves, but their letters are not before me. Mrs. Newton +writes:- + + +"MY DEAR GIRLS,--Your Aunt receiv your Letter your Aunt will Be vary +glad to see you as it quite a greeable if it tis to you and Shee is +Quite Willing to Eair the beds and the Rooms if you Like to Trust to +hir and the Servantes; if not I may Go up there as you Wish. My +Sister Sleeps in the Best Room as she allways Did and the Coock in +the garret and you Can have the Rooms the same as you allways Did as +your Aunt Donte set in the Parlour She Continlery Sets in the +Ciching. your Aunt says she Cannot Part from the dog know hows and +She Says he will not hurt you for he is Like a Child and I can +safeley say My Self he wonte hurt you as She Cannot Sleep in the +Room With out him as he allWay Sleep in the Same Room as She Dose. +your Aunt is agreeable to Git in What Coles and Wood you Wish for I +am know happy to say your Aunt is in as Good health as ever She Was +and She is happy to hear you are Both Well your Aunt Wishes for +Ancer By Return of Post." + + +The nieces replied that their aunt must choose between the dog and +them, and Mrs. Newton sends a second letter which brings her +development to a climax. It runs:- + + +"DEAR MISS --, I have Receve your Letter and i Whent up to your Aunt +as you Wish me and i Try to Perveal With her about the Dog But she +Wold not Put the Dog away nor it alow him to Be Tied up But She +Still Wishes you to Come as Shee says the Dog Shall not interrup you +for She Donte alow the Dog nor it the Cats to Go in the Parlour +never sence She has had it Donup ferfere of Spoiling the Paint your +Aunt think it vary Strange you Should Be so vary Much afraid of a +Dog and She says you Cant Go out in London But What you are up a +gance one and She says She Wonte Trust the Dog in know one hands But +her Owne for She is afraid theay Will not fill is Belley as he Lives +upon Rost Beeff and Rost and Boil Moutten Wich he Eats More then the +Servantes in the House there is not aney One Wold Beable to Give +Sattefacktion upon that account Harry offerd to Take the Dog But She +Wood not Trust him in our hands so I Cold not Do aney thing With her +your Aunt youse to Tell Me When we was at your House in London She +Did not know how to make you amens and i Told her know it was the +Time to Do it But i Considder She sets the Dog Before you your Aunt +keep know Beer know Sprits know Wines in the House of aney Sort +Oneley a Little Barl of Wine I made her in the Summer the Workmen +and servantes are a Blige to Drink wauter Morning Noon and Night +your Aunt the Same She Donte Low her Self aney Tee nor Coffee But is +Loocking Wonderful Well + +"I Still Remane your Humble Servant Mrs Newton + +"I am vary sorry to think the Dog Perventes your Comeing + +"I am Glad to hear you are Both Well and we are the same." + + +The nieces remained firm, and from the following letter it is plain +the aunt gave way. The dog motive is repeated pianissimo, and is +not returned to--not at least by Mrs. Newton. + + +"DEAR Miss --, I Receve your Letter on Thursday i Whent to your Aunt +and i see her and She is a Greable to everry thing i asked her and +seme so vary Much Please to see you Both Next Tuseday and she has +sent for the Faggots to Day and she Will Send for the Coles to +Morrow and i will Go up there to Morrow Morning and Make the Fiers +and Tend to the Beds and sleep in it Till you Come Down your Aunt +sends her Love to you Both and she is Quite well your Aunt Wishes +you wold Write againe Before you Come as she ma Expeckye and the Dog +is not to Gointo the Parlor a Tall + +"your Aunt kind Love to you Both & hopes you Wonte Fail in Coming +according to Prommis + +MRS NEWTON." + + +From a later letter it appears that the nieces did not pay their +visit after all, and what is worse a letter had miscarried, and the +aunt sat up expecting them from seven till twelve at night, and +Harry had paid for "Faggots and Coles quarter of Hund. Faggots Half +tun of Coles 1l. 1s. 3d." Shortly afterwards, however, "She" again +talks of coming up to London herself and writes through her servant +- + + +"My Dear girls i Receve your kind letter & I am happy to hear you ar +both Well and I Was in hopes of seeing of you Both Down at My House +this spring to stay a Wile I am Quite well my self in Helth But vary +Low Spireted I am vary sorry to hear the Misforting of Poor charles +& how he cum to flie in the Fier I cannot think. I should like to +know if he is dead or a Live, and I shall come to London in August & +stay three or four daies if it is agreable to you. Mrs. Newton has +lost her mother in Law 4 day March & I hope you send me word Wather +charles is Dead or a Live as soon as possible, and will you send me +word what Little Betty is for I cannot make her out." + + +The next letter is a new handwriting, and tells the nieces of their +aunt's death in the the following terms: - + + +"DEAR Miss --, It is my most painful duty to inform you that your +dear aunt expired this morning comparatively easy as Hannah informs +me and in so doing restored her soul to the custody of him whom she +considered to be alone worthy of its care. + +"The doctor had visited her about five minutes previously and had +applied a blister. + +"You and your sister will I am sure excuse further details at +present and believe me with kindest remembrances to remain + +"Yours truly, &c." + + +After a few days a lawyer's letter informs the nieces that their +aunt had left them the bulk of her not very considerable property, +but had charged them with an annuity of 1 pound a week to be paid to +Harry and Mrs. Newton so long as the dog lived. + +The only other letters by Mrs. Newton are written on paper of a +different and more modern size; they leave an impression of having +been written a good many years later. I take them as they come. +The first is very short:- + + +"DEAR Miss --, i write to say i cannot possiblely come on Wednesday +as we have killed a pig. your's truely, + +"ELIZABETH NEWTON." + + +The second runs:- + + +"DEAR Miss --, i hope you are both quite well in health & your Leg +much better i am happy to say i am getting quite well again i hope +Amandy has reached you safe by this time i sent a small parcle by +Amandy, there was half a dozen Pats of butter & the Cakes was very +homely and not so light as i could wish i hope by this time Sarah +Ann has promised she will stay untill next monday as i think a few +daies longer will not make much diferance and as her young man has +been very considerate to wait so long as he has i think he would for +a few days Longer dear Miss -- I wash for William and i have not got +his clothes yet as it has been delayed by the carrier & i cannot +possiblely get it done before Sunday and i do not Like traviling on +a Sunday but to oblige you i would come but to come sooner i cannot +possiblely but i hope Sarah Ann will be prevailed on once more as +She has so many times i feel sure if she tells her young man he will +have patient for he is a very kind young man + +"i remain your sincerely + +"ELIZABETH NEWTON." + + +The last letter in my collection seems written almost within +measurable distance of the Christmas-card era. The sheet is headed +by a beautifully embossed device of some holly in red and green, +wishing the recipient of the letter a merry Xmas and a happy new +year, while the border is crimped and edged with blue. I know not +what it is, but there is something in the writer's highly finished +style that reminds me of Mendelssohn. It would almost do for the +words of one of his celebrated "Lieder ohne Worte": + + +"DEAR MISS MARIA,--I hasten to acknowledge the receipt of your kind +note with the inclosure for which I return my best thanks. I need +scarcely say how glad I was to know that the volumes secured your +approval, and that the announcement of the improvement in the +condition of your Sister's legs afforded me infinite pleasure. The +gratifying news encouraged me in the hope that now the nature of the +disorder is comprehended her legs will--notwithstanding the process +may be gradual--ultimately get quite well. The pretty Robin +Redbreast which lay ensconced in your epistle, conveyed to me, in +terms more eloquent than words, how much you desired me those +Compliments which the little missive he bore in his bill expressed; +the emblem is sweetly pretty, and now that we are again allowed to +felicitate each other on another recurrence of the season of the +Christian's rejoicing, permit me to tender to yourself, and by you +to your Sister, mine and my Wife's heartfelt congratulations and +warmest wishes with respect to the coming year. It is a common +belief that if we take a retrospective view of each departing year, +as it behoves us annually to do, we shall find the blessings which +we have received to immeasurably outnumber our causes of sorrow. +Speaking for myself I can fully subscribe to that sentiment, and +doubtless neither Miss -- nor yourself are exceptions. Miss --'s +illness and consequent confinement to the house has been a severe +trial, but in that trouble an opportunity was afforded you to prove +a Sister's devotion and she has been enabled to realise a larger (if +possible) display of sisterly affection. + +"A happy Christmas to you both, and may the new year prove a +Cornucopia from which still greater blessings than even those we +have hitherto received, shall issue, to benefit us all by +contributing to our temporal happiness and, what is of higher +importance, conducing to our felicity hereafter. + +"I was sorry to hear that you were so annoyed with mice and rats, +and if I should have an opportunity to obtain a nice cat I will do +so and send my boy to your house with it. + +"I remain, +"Yours truly." + + +How little what is commonly called education can do after all +towards the formation of a good style, and what a delightful volume +might not be entitled "Half Hours with the Worst Authors." Why, the +finest word I know of in the English language was coined, not by my +poor old grandfather, whose education had left little to desire, nor +by any of the admirable scholars whom he in his turn educated, but +by an old matron who presided over one of the halls, or houses of +his school. + +This good lady, whose name by the way was Bromfield, had a fine high +temper of her own, or thought it politic to affect one. One night +when the boys were particularly noisy she burst like a hurricane +into the hall, collared a youngster, and told him he was "the ramp- +ingest-scampingest-rackety-tackety-tow-row-roaringest boy in the +whole school." Would Mrs. Newton have been able to set the aunt and +the dog before us so vividly if she had been more highly educated? +Would Mrs. Bromfield have been able to forge and hurl her +thunderbolt of a word if she had been taught how to do so, or indeed +been at much pains to create it at all? It came. It was her [Greek +text]. She did not probably know that she had done what the +greatest scholar would have had to rack his brains over for many an +hour before he could even approach. Tradition says that having +brought down her boy she looked round the hall in triumph, and then +after a moment's lull said, "Young gentlemen, prayers are excused," +and left them. + +I have sometimes thought that, after all, the main use of a +classical education consists in the check it gives to originality, +and the way in which it prevents an inconvenient number of people +from using their own eyes. That we will not be at the trouble of +looking at things for ourselves if we can get any one to tell us +what we ought to see goes without saying, and it is the business of +schools and universities to assist us in this respect. The theory +of evolution teaches that any power not worked at pretty high +pressure will deteriorate: originality and freedom from affectation +are all very well in their way, but we can easily have too much of +them, and it is better that none should be either original or free +from cant but those who insist on being so, no matter what +hindrances obstruct, nor what incentives are offered them to see +things through the regulation medium. + +To insist on seeing things for oneself is to be in [Greek text], or +in plain English, an idiot; nor do I see any safer check against +general vigour and clearness of thought, with consequent terseness +of expression, than that provided by the curricula of our +universities and schools of public instruction. If a young man, in +spite of every effort to fit him with blinkers, will insist on +getting rid of them, he must do so at his own risk. He will not be +long in finding out his mistake. Our public schools and +universities play the beneficent part in our social scheme that +cattle do in forests: they browse the seedlings down and prevent +the growth of all but the luckiest and sturdiest. Of course, if +there are too many either cattle or schools, they browse so +effectually that they find no more food, and starve till equilibrium +is restored; but it seems to be a provision of nature that there +should always be these alternate periods, during which either the +cattle or the trees are getting the best of it; and, indeed, without +such provision we should have neither the one nor the other. At +this moment the cattle, doubtless, are in the ascendant, and if +university extension proceeds much farther, we shall assuredly have +no more Mrs. Newtons and Mrs. Bromfields; but whatever is is best, +and, on the whole, I should propose to let things find pretty much +their own level. + +However this may be, who can question that the treasures hidden in +many a country house contain sleeping beauties even fairer than +those that I have endeavoured to waken from long sleep in the +foregoing article? How many Mrs. Quicklys are there not living in +London at this present moment? For that Mrs. Quickly was an +invention of Shakespeare's I will not believe. The old woman from +whom he drew said every word that he put into Mrs. Quickly's mouth, +and a great deal more which he did not and perhaps could not make +use of. This question, however, would again lead me far from my +subject, which I should mar were I to dwell upon it longer, and +therefore leave with the hope that it may give my readers absolutely +no food whatever for reflection. + + + +HOW TO MAKE THE BEST OF LIFE {4} + + + +I have been asked to speak on the question how to make the best of +life, but may as well confess at once that I know nothing about it. +I cannot think that I have made the best of my own life, nor is it +likely that I shall make much better of what may or may not remain +to me. I do not even know how to make the best of the twenty +minutes that your committee has placed at my disposal, and as for +life as a whole, who ever yet made the best of such a colossal +opportunity by conscious effort and deliberation? In little things +no doubt deliberate and conscious effort will help us, but we are +speaking of large issues, and such kingdoms of heaven as the making +the best of these come not by observation. + +The question, therefore, on which I have undertaken to address you +is, as you must all know, fatuous, if it be faced seriously. Life +is like playing a violin solo in public and learning the instrument +as one goes on. One cannot make the best of such impossibilities, +and the question is doubly fatuous until we are told which of our +two lives--the conscious or the unconscious--is held by the asker to +be the truer life. Which does the question contemplate--the life we +know, or the life which others may know, but which we know not? + +Death gives a life to some men and women compared with which their +so-called existence here is as nothing. Which is the truer life of +Shakespeare, Handel, that divine woman who wrote the "Odyssey," and +of Jane Austen--the life which palpitated with sensible warm motion +within their own bodies, or that in virtue of which they are still +palpitating in ours? In whose consciousness does their truest life +consist--their own, or ours? Can Shakespeare be said to have begun +his true life till a hundred years or so after he was dead and +buried? His physical life was but as an embryonic stage, a coming +up out of darkness, a twilight and dawn before the sunrise of that +life of the world to come which he was to enjoy hereafter. We all +live for a while after we are gone hence, but we are for the most +part stillborn, or at any rate die in infancy, as regards that life +which every age and country has recognised as higher and truer than +the one of which we are now sentient. As the life of the race is +larger, longer, and in all respects more to be considered than that +of the individual, so is the life we live in others larger and more +important than the one we live in ourselves. This appears nowhere +perhaps more plainly than in the case of great teachers, who often +in the lives of their pupils produce an effect that reaches far +beyond anything produced while their single lives were yet +unsupplemented by those other lives into which they infused their +own. + +Death to such people is the ending of a short life, but it does not +touch the life they are already living in those whom they have +taught; and happily, as none can know when he shall die, so none can +make sure that he too shall not live long beyond the grave; for the +life after death is like money before it--no one can be sure that it +may not fall to him or her even at the eleventh hour. Money and +immortality come in such odd unaccountable ways that no one is cut +off from hope. We may not have made either of them for ourselves, +but yet another may give them to us in virtue of his or her love, +which shall illumine us for ever, and establish us in some heavenly +mansion whereof we neither dreamed nor shall ever dream. Look at +the Doge Loredano Loredani, the old man's smile upon whose face has +been reproduced so faithfully in so many lands that it can never +henceforth be forgotten--would he have had one hundredth part of the +life he now lives had he not been linked awhile with one of those +heaven-sent men who know che cosa e amor? Look at Rembrandt's old +woman in our National Gallery; had she died before she was eighty- +three years old she would not have been living now. Then, when she +was eighty-three, immortality perched upon her as a bird on a +withered bough. + +I seem to hear some one say that this is a mockery, a piece of +special pleading, a giving of stones to those that ask for bread. +Life is not life unless we can feel it, and a life limited to a +knowledge of such fraction of our work as may happen to survive us +is no true life in other people; salve it as we may, death is not +life any more than black is white. + +The objection is not so true as it sounds. I do not deny that we +had rather not die, nor do I pretend that much even in the case of +the most favoured few can survive them beyond the grave. It is only +because this is so that our own life is possible; others have made +room for us, and we should make room for others in our turn without +undue repining. What I maintain is that a not inconsiderable number +of people do actually attain to a life beyond the grave which we can +all feel forcibly enough, whether they can do so or not--that this +life tends with increasing civilisation to become more and more +potent, and that it is better worth considering, in spite of its +being unfelt by ourselves, than any which we have felt or can ever +feel in our own persons. + +Take an extreme case. A group of people are photographed by +Edison's new process--say Titiens, Trebelli, and Jenny Lind, with +any two of the finest men singers the age has known--let them be +photographed incessantly for half an hour while they perform a scene +in "Lohengrin"; let all be done stereoscopically. Let them be +phonographed at the same time so that their minutest shades of +intonation are preserved, let the slides be coloured by a competent +artist, and then let the scene be called suddenly into sight and +sound, say a hundred years hence. Are those people dead or alive? +Dead to themselves they are, but while they live so powerfully and +so livingly in us, which is the greater paradox--to say that they +are alive or that they are dead? To myself it seems that their life +in others would be more truly life than their death to themselves is +death. Granted that they do not present all the phenomena of life-- +who ever does so even when he is held to be alive? We are held to +be alive because we present a sufficient number of living phenomena +to let the others go without saying; those who see us take the part +for the whole here as in everything else, and surely, in the case +supposed above, the phenomena of life predominate so powerfully over +those of death, that the people themselves must be held to be more +alive than dead. Our living personality is, as the word implies, +only our mask, and those who still own such a mask as I have +supposed have a living personality. Granted again that the case +just put is an extreme one; still many a man and many a woman has so +stamped him or herself on his work that, though we would gladly have +the aid of such accessories as we doubtless presently shall have to +the livingness of our great dead, we can see them very sufficiently +through the master pieces they have left us. + +As for their own unconsciousness I do not deny it. The life of the +embryo was unconscious before birth, and so is the life--I am +speaking only of the life revealed to us by natural religion--after +death. But as the embryonic and infant life of which we were +unconscious was the most potent factor in our after life of +consciousness, so the effect which we may unconsciously produce in +others after death, and it may be even before it on those who have +never seen us, is in all sober seriousness our truer and more +abiding life, and the one which those who would make the best of +their sojourn here will take most into their consideration. + +Unconsciousness is no bar to livingness. Our conscious actions are +a drop in the sea as compared with our unconscious ones. Could we +know all the life that is in us by way of circulation, nutrition, +breathing, waste and repair, we should learn what an infinitesimally +small part consciousness plays in our present existence; yet our +unconscious life is as truly life as our conscious life, and though +it is unconscious to itself it emerges into an indirect and +vicarious consciousness in our other and conscious self, which +exists but in virtue of our unconscious self. So we have also a +vicarious consciousness in others. The unconscious life of those +that have gone before us has in great part moulded us into such men +and women as we are, and our own unconscious lives will in like +manner have a vicarious consciousness in others, though we be dead +enough to it in ourselves. + +If it is again urged that it matters not to us how much we may be +alive in others, if we are to know nothing about it, I reply that +the common instinct of all who are worth considering gives the lie +to such cynicism. I see here present some who have achieved, and +others who no doubt will achieve, success in literature. Will one +of them hesitate to admit that it is a lively pleasure to her to +feel that on the other side of the world some one may be smiling +happily over her work, and that she is thus living in that person +though she knows nothing about it? Here it seems to me that true +faith comes in. Faith does not consist, as the Sunday School pupil +said, "in the power of believing that which we know to be untrue." +It consists in holding fast that which the healthiest and most +kindly instincts of the best and most sensible men and women are +intuitively possessed of, without caring to require much evidence +further than the fact that such people are so convinced; and for my +own part I find the best men and women I know unanimous in feeling +that life in others, even though we know nothing about it, is +nevertheless a thing to be desired and gratefully accepted if we can +get it either before death or after. I observe also that a large +number of men and women do actually attain to such life, and in some +cases continue so to live, if not for ever, yet to what is +practically much the same thing. Our life then in this world is, to +natural religion as much as to revealed, a period of probation. The +use we make of it is to settle how far we are to enter into another, +and whether that other is to be a heaven of just affection or a hell +of righteous condemnation. + +Who, then, are the most likely so to run that they may obtain this +veritable prize of our high calling? Setting aside such lucky +numbers drawn as it were in the lottery of immortality, which I have +referred to casually above, and setting aside also the chances and +changes from which even immortality is not exempt, who on the whole +are most likely to live anew in the affectionate thoughts of those +who never so much as saw them in the flesh, and know not even their +names? There is a nisus, a straining in the dull dumb economy of +things, in virtue of which some, whether they will it and know it or +no, are more likely to live after death than others, and who are +these? Those who aimed at it as by some great thing that they would +do to make them famous? Those who have lived most in themselves and +for themselves, or those who have been most ensouled consciously, +but perhaps better unconsciously, directly but more often +indirectly, by the most living souls past and present that have +flitted near them? Can we think of a man or woman who grips us +firmly, at the thought of whom we kindle when we are alone in our +honest daw's plumes, with none to admire or shrug his shoulders, can +we think of one such, the secret of whose power does not lie in the +charm of his or her personality--that is to say, in the wideness of +his or her sympathy with, and therefore life in and communion with +other people? In the wreckage that comes ashore from the sea of +time there is much tinsel stuff that we must preserve and study if +we would know our own times and people; granted that many a dead +charlatan lives long and enters largely and necessarily into our own +lives; we use them and throw them away when we have done with them. +I do not speak of these, I do not speak of the Virgils and Alexander +Popes, and who can say how many more whose names I dare not mention +for fear of offending. They are as stuffed birds or beasts in a +Museum, serviceable no doubt from a scientific standpoint, but with +no vivid or vivifying hold upon us. They seem to be alive, but are +not. I am speaking of those who do actually live in us, and move us +to higher achievements though they be long dead, whose life thrusts +out our own and overrides it. I speak of those who draw us ever +more towards them from youth to age, and to think of whom is to feel +at once that we are in the hands of those we love, and whom we would +most wish to resemble. What is the secret of the hold that these +people have upon us? Is it not that while, conventionally speaking, +alive, they most merged their lives in, and were in fullest +communion with those among whom they lived? They found their lives +in losing them. We never love the memory of any one unless we feel +that he or she was himself or herself a lover. + +I have seen it urged, again, in querulous accents, that the so- +called immortality even of the most immortal is not for ever. I see +a passage to this effect in a book that is making a stir as I write. +I will quote it. The writer says:- + + +"So, it seems to me, is the immortality we so glibly predicate of +departed artists. If they survive at all, it is but a shadowy life +they live, moving on through the gradations of slow decay to distant +but inevitable death. They can no longer, as heretofore, speak +directly to the hearts of their fellow-men, evoking their tears or +laughter, and all the pleasures, be they sad or merry, of which +imagination holds the secret. Driven from the marketplace they +become first the companions of the student, then the victims of the +specialist. He who would still hold familiar intercourse with them +must train himself to penetrate the veil which in ever-thickening +folds conceals them from the ordinary gaze; he must catch the tone +of a vanished society, he must move in a circle of alien +associations, he must think in a language not his own." {5} + + +This is crying for the moon, or rather pretending to cry for it, for +the writer is obviously insincere. I see the Saturday Review says +the passage I have just quoted "reaches almost to poetry," and +indeed I find many blank verses in it, some of them very aggressive. +No prose is free from an occasional blank verse, and a good writer +will not go hunting over his work to rout them out, but nine or ten +in little more than as many lines is indeed reaching too near to +poetry for good prose. This, however, is a trifle, and might pass +if the tone of the writer was not so obviously that of cheap +pessimism. I know not which is cheapest, pessimism or optimism. +One forces lights, the other darks; both are equally untrue to good +art, and equally sure of their effect with the groundlings. The one +extenuates, the other sets down in malice. The first is the more +amiable lie, but both are lies, and are known to be so by those who +utter them. Talk about catching the tone of a vanished society to +understand Rembrandt or Giovanni Bellini! It's nonsense--the folds +do not thicken in front of these men; we understand them as well as +those among whom they went about in the flesh, and perhaps better. +Homer and Shakespeare speak to us probably far more effectually than +they did to the men of their own time, and most likely we have them +at their best. I cannot think that Shakespeare talked better than +we hear him now in "Hamlet" or "Henry the Fourth"; like enough he +would have been found a very disappointing person in a drawing-room. +People stamp themselves on their work; if they have not done so they +are naught; if they have we have them; and for the most part they +stamp themselves deeper in their work than on their talk. No doubt +Shakespeare and Handel will be one day clean forgotten, as though +they had never been born. The world will in the end die; mortality +therefore itself is not immortal, and when death dies the life of +these men will die with it--but not sooner. It is enough that they +should live within us and move us for many ages as they have and +will. Such immortality, therefore, as some men and women are born +to, achieve, or have thrust upon them, is a practical if not a +technical immortality, and he who would have more let him have +nothing. + +I see I have drifted into speaking rather of how to make the best of +death than of life, but who can speak of life without his thoughts +turning instantly to that which is beyond it? He or she who has +made the best of the life after death has made the best of the life +before it; who cares one straw for any such chances and changes as +will commonly befall him here if he is upheld by the full and +certain hope of everlasting life in the affections of those that +shall come after? If the life after death is happy in the hearts of +others, it matters little how unhappy was the life before it. + +And now I leave my subject, not without misgiving that I shall have +disappointed you. But for the great attention which is being paid +to the work from which I have quoted above, I should not have +thought it well to insist on points with which you are, I doubt not, +as fully impressed as I am: but that book weakens the sanctions of +natural religion, and minimises the comfort which it affords us, +while it does more to undermine than to support the foundations of +what is commonly called belief. Therefore I was glad to embrace +this opportunity of protesting. Otherwise I should not have been so +serious on a matter that transcends all seriousness. Lord +Beaconsfield cut it shorter with more effect. When asked to give a +rule of life for the son of a friend he said, "Do not let him try +and find out who wrote the letters of Junius." Pressed for further +counsel he added, "Nor yet who was the man in the iron mask"--and he +would say no more. Don't bore people. And yet I am by no means +sure that a good many people do not think themselves ill-used unless +he who addresses them has thoroughly well bored them--especially if +they have paid any money for hearing him. My great namesake said, +"Surely the pleasure is as great of being cheated as to cheat," and +great as the pleasure both of cheating and boring undoubtedly is, I +believe he was right. So I remember a poem which came out some +thirty years ago in Punch, about a young lady who went forth in +quest to "Some burden make or burden bear, but which she did not +greatly care, oh Miserie." So, again, all the holy men and women +who in the Middle Ages professed to have discovered how to make the +best of life took care that being bored, if not cheated, should have +a large place in their programme. Still there are limits, and I +close not without fear that I may have exceeded them. + + + +THE SANCTUARY OF MONTRIGONE {6} + + + +The only place in the Valsesia, except Varallo, where I at present +suspect the presence of Tabachetti {7} is at Montrigone, a little- +known sanctuary dedicated to St. Anne, about three-quarters of a +mile south of Borgo-Sesia station. The situation is, of course, +lovely, but the sanctuary does not offer any features of +architectural interest. The sacristan told me it was founded in +1631; and in 1644 Giovanni d'Enrico, while engaged in superintending +and completing the work undertaken here by himself and Giacomo +Ferro, fell ill and died. I do not know whether or no there was an +earlier sanctuary on the same site, but was told it was built on the +demolition of a stronghold belonging to the Counts of Biandrate. + +The incidents which it illustrates are treated with even more than +the homeliness usual in works of this description when not dealing +with such solemn events as the death and passion of Christ. Except +when these subjects were being represented, something of the +latitude, and even humour, allowed in the old mystery plays was +permitted, doubtless from a desire to render the work more +attractive to the peasants, who were the most numerous and most +important pilgrims. It is not until faith begins to be weak that it +fears an occasionally lighter treatment of semi-sacred subjects, and +it is impossible to convey an accurate idea of the spirit prevailing +at this hamlet of sanctuary without attuning oneself somewhat to the +more pagan character of the place. Of irreverence, in the sense of +a desire to laugh at things that are of high and serious import, +there is not a trace, but at the same time there is a certain +unbending of the bow at Montrigone which is not perceivable at +Varallo. + +The first chapel to the left on entering the church is that of the +Birth of the Virgin. St. Anne is sitting up in bed. She is not at +all ill--in fact, considering that the Virgin has only been born +about five minutes, she is wonderful; still the doctors think it may +be perhaps better that she should keep her room for half an hour +longer, so the bed has been festooned with red and white paper +roses, and the counterpane is covered with bouquets in baskets and +in vases of glass and china. These cannot have been there during +the actual birth of the Virgin, so I suppose they had been in +readiness, and were brought in from an adjoining room as soon as the +baby had been born. A lady on her left is bringing in some more +flowers, which St. Anne is receiving with a smile and most gracious +gesture of the hands. The first thing she asked for, when the birth +was over, was for her three silver hearts. These were immediately +brought to her, and she has got them all on, tied round her neck +with a piece of blue silk ribbon. + +Dear mamma has come. We felt sure she would, and that any little +misunderstandings between her and Joachim would ere long be +forgotten and forgiven. They are both so good and sensible if they +would only understand one another. At any rate, here she is, in +high state at the right hand of the bed. She is dressed in black, +for she has lost her husband some few years previously, but I do not +believe a smarter, sprier old lady for her years could be found in +Palestine, nor yet that either Giovanni d'Enrico or Giacomo Ferro +could have conceived or executed such a character. The sacristan +wanted to have it that she was not a woman at all, but was a +portrait of St. Joachim, the Virgin's father. "Sembra una donna," +he pleaded more than once, "ma non e donna." Surely, however, in +works of art even more than in other things, there is no "is" but +seeming, and if a figure seems female it must be taken as such. +Besides, I asked one of the leading doctors at Varallo whether the +figure was man or woman. He said it was evident I was not married, +for that if I had been I should have seen at once that she was not +only a woman but a mother-in-law of the first magnitude, or, as he +called it, "una suocera tremenda," and this without knowing that I +wanted her to be a mother-in-law myself. Unfortunately she had no +real drapery, so I could not settle the question as my friend Mr. H. +F. Jones and I had been able to do at Varallo with the figure of Eve +that had been turned into a Roman soldier assisting at the capture +of Christ. I am not, however, disposed to waste more time upon +anything so obvious, and will content myself with saying that we +have here the Virgin's grandmother. I had never had the pleasure, +so far as I remembered, of meeting this lady before, and was glad to +have an opportunity of making her acquaintance. + +Tradition says that it was she who chose the Virgin's name, and if +so, what a debt of gratitude do we not owe her for her judicious +selection! It makes one shudder to think what might have happened +if she had named the child Keren-Happuch, as poor Job's daughter was +called. How could we have said, "Ave Keren-Happuch!" What would +the musicians have done? I forget whether Maher-Shalal-Hash-Baz was +a man or a woman, but there were plenty of names quite as +unmanageable at the Virgin's grandmother's option, and we cannot +sufficiently thank her for having chosen one that is so euphonious +in every language which we need take into account. For this reason +alone we should not grudge her her portrait, but we should try to +draw the line here. I do not think we ought to give the Virgin's +great-grandmother a statue. Where is it to end? It is like Mr. +Crookes's ultimissimate atoms; we used to draw the line at ultimate +atoms, and now it seems we are to go a step farther back and have +ultimissimate atoms. How long, I wonder, will it be before we feel +that it will be a material help to us to have ultimissimissimate +atoms? Quavers stopped at demi-semi-demi, but there is no reason to +suppose that either atoms or ancestresses of the Virgin will be so +complacent. + +I have said that on St. Anne's left hand there is a lady who is +bringing in some flowers. St. Anne was always passionately fond of +flowers. There is a pretty story told about her in one of the +Fathers, I forget which, to the effect that when a child she was +asked which she liked best--cakes or flowers? She could not yet +speak plainly and lisped out, "Oh fowses, pretty fowses"; she added, +however, with a sigh and as a kind of wistful corollary, "but cakes +are very nice." She is not to have any cakes, just now, but as soon +as she has done thanking the lady for her beautiful nosegay, she is +to have a couple of nice new-laid eggs, that are being brought her +by another lady. Valsesian women immediately after their +confinement always have eggs beaten up with wine and sugar, and one +can tell a Valsesian Birth of the Virgin from a Venetian or a +Florentine by the presence of the eggs. I learned this from an +eminent Valsesian professor of medicine, who told me that, though +not according to received rules, the eggs never seemed to do any +harm. Here they are evidently to be beaten up, for there is neither +spoon nor egg-cup, and we cannot suppose that they were hard-boiled. +On the other hand, in the Middle Ages Italians never used egg-cups +and spoons for boiled eggs. The mediaeval boiled egg was always +eaten by dipping bread into the yolk. + +Behind the lady who is bringing in the eggs is the under-under-nurse +who is at the fire warming a towel. In the foreground we have the +regulation midwife holding the regulation baby (who, by the way, was +an astonishingly fine child for only five minutes old). Then comes +the under-nurse--a good buxom creature, who, as usual, is feeling +the water in the bath to see that it is of the right temperature. +Next to her is the head-nurse, who is arranging the cradle. Behind +the head-nurse is the under-under-nurse's drudge, who is just going +out upon some errands. Lastly--for by this time we have got all +round the chapel--we arrive at the Virgin's grandmother's-body- +guard, a stately, responsible-looking lady, standing in waiting upon +her mistress. I put it to the reader--is it conceivable that St. +Joachim should have been allowed in such a room at such a time, or +that he should have had the courage to avail himself of the +permission, even though it had been extended to him? At any rate, +is it conceivable that he should have been allowed to sit on St. +Anne's right hand, laying down the law with a "Marry, come up here," +and a "Marry, go-down there," and a couple of such unabashed collars +as the old lady has put on for the occasion? + +Moreover (for I may as well demolish this mischievous confusion +between St. Joachim and his mother-in-law once and for all), the +merest tyro in hagiology knows that St. Joachim was not at home when +the Virgin was born. He had been hustled out of the temple for +having no children, and had fled desolate and dismayed into the +wilderness. It shows how silly people are, for all the time he was +going, if they had only waited a little, to be the father of the +most remarkable person of purely human origin who had ever been +born, and such a parent as this should surely not be hurried. The +story is told in the frescoes of the chapel of Loreto, only a +quarter of an hour's walk from Varallo, and no one can have known it +better than D'Enrico. The frescoes are explained by written +passages that tell us how, when Joachim was in the desert, an angel +came to him in the guise of a fair, civil young gentleman, and told +him the Virgin was to be born. Then, later on, the same young +gentleman appeared to him again, and bade him "in God's name be +comforted, and turn again to his content," for the Virgin had been +actually born. On which St. Joachim, who seems to have been of +opinion that marriage after all WAS rather a failure, said that, as +things were going on so nicely without him, he would stay in the +desert just a little longer, and offered up a lamb as a pretext to +gain time. Perhaps he guessed about his mother-in-law, or he may +have asked the angel. Of course, even in spite of such evidence as +this I may be mistaken about the Virgin's grandmother's sex, and the +sacristan may be right; but I can only say that if the lady sitting +by St. Anne's bedside at Montrigone is the Virgin's father--well, in +that case I must reconsider a good deal that I have been accustomed +to believe was beyond question. + +Taken singly, I suppose that none of the figures in the chapel, +except the Virgin's grandmother, should be rated very highly. The +under-nurse is the next best figure, and might very well be +Tabachetti's, for neither Giovanni d'Enrico nor Giacomo Ferro was +successful with his female characters. There is not a single really +comfortable woman in any chapel by either of them on the Sacro Monte +at Varallo. Tabachetti, on the other hand, delighted in women; if +they were young he made them comely and engaging, if they were old +he gave them dignity and individual character, and the under-nurse +is much more in accordance with Tabachetti's habitual mental +attitude than with D'Enrico's or Giacomo Ferro's. Still there are +only four figures out of the eleven that are mere otiose supers, and +taking the work as a whole it leaves a pleasant impression as being +throughout naive and homely, and sometimes, which is of less +importance, technically excellent. + +Allowance must, of course, be made for tawdry accessories and +repeated coats of shiny oleaginous paint--very disagreeable where it +has peeled off and almost more so where it has not. What work could +stand against such treatment as the Valsesian terra-cotta figures +have had to put up with? Take the Venus of Milo; let her be done in +terra-cotta, and have run, not much, but still something, in the +baking; paint her pink, two oils, all over, and then varnish her--it +will help to preserve the paint; glue a lot of horsehair on to her +pate, half of which shall have come off, leaving the glue still +showing; scrape her, not too thoroughly, get the village drawing- +master to paint her again, and the drawing-master in the next +provincial town to put a forest background behind her with the +brightest emerald-green leaves that he can do for the money; let +this painting and scraping and repainting be repeated several times +over; festoon her with pink and white flowers made of tissue paper; +surround her with the cheapest German imitations of the cheapest +decorations that Birmingham can produce; let the night air and +winter fogs get at her for three hundred years, and how easy, I +wonder, will it be to see the goddess who will be still in great +part there? True, in the case of the Birth of the Virgin chapel at +Montrigone, there is no real hair and no fresco background, but time +has had abundant opportunities without these. I will conclude my +notice of this chapel by saying that on the left, above the door +through which the under-under-nurse's drudge is about to pass, there +is a good painted terra-cotta bust, said--but I believe on no +authority--to be a portrait of Giovanni d'Enrico. Others say that +the Virgin's grandmother is Giovanni d'Enrico, but this is even more +absurd than supposing her to be St. Joachim. + +The next chapel to the Birth of the Virgin is that of the +Sposalizio. There is no figure here which suggests Tabachetti, but +still there are some very good ones. The best have no taint of +barocco; the man who did them, whoever he may have been, had +evidently a good deal of life and go, was taking reasonable pains, +and did not know too much. Where this is the case no work can fail +to please. Some of the figures have real hair and some terra cotta. +There is no fresco background worth mentioning. A man sitting on +the steps of the altar with a book on his lap, and holding up his +hand to another, who is leaning over him and talking to him, is +among the best figures; some of the disappointed suitors who are +breaking their wands are also very good. + +The angel in the Annunciation chapel, which comes next in order, is +a fine, burly, ship's-figurehead, commercial-hotel sort of being +enough, but the Virgin is very ordinary. There is no real hair and +no fresco background, only three dingy old blistered pictures of no +interest whatever. + +In the visit of Mary to Elizabeth there are three pleasing +subordinate lady attendants, two to the left and one to the right of +the principal figures; but these figures themselves are not +satisfactory. There is no fresco background. Some of the figures +have real hair and some terra cotta. + +In the Circumcision and Purification chapel--for both these events +seem contemplated in the one that follows--there are doves, but +there is neither dog nor knife. Still Simeon, who has the infant +Saviour in his arms, is looking at him in a way which can only mean +that, knife or no knife, the matter is not going to end here. At +Varallo they have now got a dreadful knife for the Circumcision +chapel. They had none last winter. What they have now got would do +very well to kill a bullock with, but could not be used +professionally with safety for any animal smaller than a rhinoceros. +I imagine that some one was sent to Novara to buy a knife, and that, +thinking it was for the Massacre of the Innocents chapel, he got the +biggest he could see. Then when he brought it back people said +"chow" several times, and put it upon the table and went away. + +Returning to Montrigone, the Simeon is an excellent figure, and the +Virgin is fairly good, but the prophetess Anna, who stands just +behind her, is by far the most interesting in the group, and is +alone enough to make me feel sure that Tabachetti gave more or less +help here, as he had done years before at Orta. She, too, like the +Virgin's grandmother, is a widow lady, and wears collars of a cut +that seems to have prevailed ever since the Virgin was born some +twenty years previously. There is a largeness and simplicity of +treatment about the figure to which none but an artist of the +highest rank can reach, and D'Enrico was not more than a second or +third-rate man. The hood is like Handel's Truth sailing upon the +broad wings of Time, a prophetic strain that nothing but the old +experience of a great poet can reach. The lips of the prophetess +are for the moment closed, but she has been prophesying all the +morning, and the people round the wall in the background are in +ecstasies at the lucidity with which she has explained all sorts of +difficulties that they had never been able to understand till now. +They are putting their forefingers on their thumbs and their thumbs +on their forefingers, and saying how clearly they see it all and +what a wonderful woman Anna is. A prophet indeed is not generally +without honour save in his own country, but then a country is +generally not without honour save with its own prophet, and Anna has +been glorifying her country rather than reviling it. Besides, the +rule may not have applied to prophetesses. + +The Death of the Virgin is the last of the six chapels inside the +church itself. The Apostles, who of course are present, have all of +them real hair, but, if I may say so, they want a wash and a brush- +up so very badly that I cannot feel any confidence in writing about +them. I should say that, take them all round, they are a good +average sample of apostle as apostles generally go. Two or three of +them are nervously anxious to find appropriate quotations in books +that lie open before them, which they are searching with eager +haste; but I do not see one figure about which I should like to say +positively that it is either good or bad. There is a good bust of a +man, matching the one in the Birth of the Virgin chapel, which is +said to be a portrait of Giovanni d'Enrico, but it is not known whom +it represents. + +Outside the church, in three contiguous cells that form part of the +foundations, are:- + + +1. A dead Christ, the head of which is very impressive while the +rest of the figure is poor. I examined the treatment of the hair, +which is terra-cotta, and compared it with all other like hair in +the chapels above described; I could find nothing like it, and think +it most likely that Giacomo Ferro did the figure, and got Tabachetti +to do the head, or that they brought the head from some unused +figure by Tabachetti at Varallo, for I know no other artist of the +time and neighbourhood who could have done it. + +2. A Magdalene in the desert. The desert is a little coal-cellar +of an arch, containing a skull and a profusion of pink and white +paper bouquets, the two largest of which the Magdalene is hugging +while she is saying her prayers. She is a very self-sufficient +lady, who we may be sure will not stay in the desert a day longer +than she can help, and while there will flirt even with the skull if +she can find nothing better to flirt with. I cannot think that her +repentance is as yet genuine, and as for her praying there is no +object in her doing so, for she does not want anything. + +3. In the next desert there is a very beautiful figure of St. John +the Baptist kneeling and looking upwards. This figure puzzles me +more than any other at Montrigone; it appears to be of the fifteenth +rather than the sixteenth century; it hardly reminds me of +Gaudenzio, and still less of any other Valsesian artist. It is a +work of unusual beauty, but I can form no idea as to its authorship. + + +I wrote the foregoing pages in the church at Montrigone itself, +having brought my camp-stool with me. It was Sunday; the church was +open all day, but there was no mass said, and hardly any one came. +The sacristan was a kind, gentle, little old man, who let me do +whatever I wanted. He sat on the doorstep of the main door, mending +vestments, and to this end was cutting up a fine piece of figured +silk from one to two hundred years old, which, if I could have got +it, for half its value, I should much like to have bought. I sat in +the cool of the church while he sat in the doorway, which was still +in shadow, snipping and snipping, and then sewing, I am sure with +admirable neatness. He made a charming picture, with the arched +portico over his head, the green grass and low church wall behind +him, and then a lovely landscape of wood and pasture and valleys and +hillside. Every now and then he would come and chirrup about +Joachim, for he was pained and shocked at my having said that his +Joachim was some one else and not Joachim at all. I said I was very +sorry, but I was afraid the figure was a woman. He asked me what he +was to do. He had known it, man and boy, this sixty years, and had +always shown it as St. Joachim; he had never heard any one but +myself question his ascription, and could not suddenly change his +mind about it at the bidding of a stranger. At the same time he +felt it was a very serious thing to continue showing it as the +Virgin's father if it was really her grandmother. I told him I +thought this was a case for his spiritual director, and that if he +felt uncomfortable about it he should consult his parish priest and +do as he was told. + +On leaving Montrigone, with a pleasant sense of having made +acquaintance with a new and, in many respects, interesting work, I +could not get the sacristan and our difference of opinion out of my +head. What, I asked myself, are the differences that unhappily +divide Christendom, and what are those that divide Christendom from +modern schools of thought, but a seeing of Joachims as the Virgin's +grandmothers on a larger scale? True, we cannot call figures +Joachim when we know perfectly well that they are nothing of the +kind; but I registered a vow that henceforward when I called +Joachims the Virgin's grandmothers I would bear more in mind than I +have perhaps always hitherto done, how hard it is for those who have +been taught to see them as Joachims to think of them as something +different. I trust that I have not been unfaithful to this vow in +the preceding article. If the reader differs from me, let me ask +him to remember how hard it is for one who has got a figure well +into his head as the Virgin's grandmother to see it as Joachim. + + + +A MEDIEVAL GIRL SCHOOL {8} + + + +This last summer I revisited Oropa, near Biella, to see what +connection I could find between the Oropa chapels and those at +Varallo. I will take this opportunity of describing the chapels at +Oropa, and more especially the remarkable fossil, or petrified girl +school, commonly known as the Dimora, or Sojourn of the Virgin Mary +in the Temple. + +If I do not take these works so seriously as the reader may expect, +let me beg him, before he blames me, to go to Oropa and see the +originals for himself. Have the good people of Oropa themselves +taken them very seriously? Are we in an atmosphere where we need be +at much pains to speak with bated breath? We, as is well known, +love to take even our pleasures sadly; the Italians take even their +sadness allegramente, and combine devotion with amusement in a +manner that we shall do well to study if not imitate. For this best +agrees with what we gather to have been the custom of Christ +himself, who, indeed, never speaks of austerity but to condemn it. +If Christianity is to be a living faith, it must penetrate a man's +whole life, so that he can no more rid himself of it than he can of +his flesh and bones or of his breathing. The Christianity that can +be taken up and laid down as if it were a watch or a book is +Christianity in name only. The true Christian can no more part from +Christ in mirth than in sorrow. And, after all, what is the essence +of Christianity? What is the kernel of the nut? Surely common +sense and cheerfulness, with unflinching opposition to the +charlatanisms and Pharisaisms of a man's own times. The essence of +Christianity lies neither in dogma, nor yet in abnormally holy life, +but in faith in an unseen world, in doing one's duty, in speaking +the truth, in finding the true life rather in others than in +oneself, and in the certain hope that he who loses his life on these +behalfs finds more than he has lost. What can Agnosticism do +against such Christianity as this? I should be shocked if anything +I had ever written or shall ever write should seem to make light of +these things. I should be shocked also if I did not know how to be +amused with things that amiable people obviously intended to be +amusing. + +The reader may need to be reminded that Oropa is among the somewhat +infrequent sanctuaries at which the Madonna and infant Christ are +not white, but black. I shall return to this peculiarity of Oropa +later on, but will leave it for the present. For the general +characteristics of the place I must refer the reader to my book, +"Alps and Sanctuaries." {9} I propose to confine myself here to the +ten or a dozen chapels containing life-sized terra-cotta figures, +painted up to nature, that form one of the main features of the +place. At a first glance, perhaps, all these chapels will seem +uninteresting; I venture to think, however, that some, if not most +of them, though falling a good deal short of the best work at +Varallo and Crea, are still in their own way of considerable +importance. The first chapel with which we need concern ourselves +is numbered 4, and shows the Conception of the Virgin Mary. It +represents St. Anne as kneeling before a terrific dragon or, as the +Italians call it, "insect," about the size of a Crystal Palace +pleiosaur. This "insect" is supposed to have just had its head +badly crushed by St. Anne, who seems to be begging its pardon. The +text "Ipsa conteret caput tuum" is written outside the chapel. The +figures have no artistic interest. As regards dragons being called +insects, the reader may perhaps remember that the island of S. +Giulio, in the Lago d'Orta, was infested with insetti, which S. +Giulio destroyed, and which appear, in a fresco underneath the +church on the island, to have been monstrous and ferocious dragons; +but I cannot remember whether their bodies are divided into three +sections, and whether or no they have exactly six legs--without +which, I am told, they cannot be true insects. + +The fifth chapel represents the birth of the Virgin. Having +obtained permission to go inside it, I found the date 1715 cut large +and deep on the back of one figure before baking, and I imagine that +this date covers the whole. There is a Queen Anne feeling +throughout the composition, and if we were told that the sculptor +and Francis Bird, sculptor of the statue in front of St. Paul's +Cathedral, had studied under the same master, we could very well +believe it. The apartment in which the Virgin was born is spacious, +and in striking contrast to the one in which she herself gave birth +to the Redeemer. St. Anne occupies the centre of the composition, +in an enormous bed; on her right there is a lady of the George +Cruikshank style of beauty, and on the left an older person. Both +are gesticulating and impressing upon St. Anne the enormous +obligation she has just conferred upon mankind; they seem also to be +imploring her not to overtax her strength, but, strange to say, they +are giving her neither flowers nor anything to eat and drink. I +know no other birth of the Virgin in which St. Anne wants so little +keeping up. + +I have explained in my book "Ex Voto," {10} but should perhaps +repeat here, that the distinguishing characteristic of the Birth of +the Virgin, as rendered by Valsesian artists, is that St. Anne +always has eggs immediately after the infant is born, and usually a +good deal more, whereas the Madonna never has anything to eat or +drink. The eggs are in accordance with a custom that still prevails +among the peasant classes in the Valsesia, where women on giving +birth to a child generally are given a sabaglione--an egg beaten up +with a little wine, or rum, and sugar. East of Milan the Virgin's +mother does not have eggs, and I suppose, from the absence of the +eggs at Oropa, that the custom above referred to does not prevail in +the Biellese district. The Virgin also is invariably washed. St. +John the Baptist, when he is born at all, which is not very often, +is also washed; but I have not observed that St. Elizabeth has +anything like the attention paid her that is given to St. Anne. +What, however, is wanting here at Oropa in meat and drink is made up +in Cupids; they swarm like flies on the walls, clouds, cornices, and +capitals of columns. + +Against the right-hand wall are two lady-helps, each warming a towel +at a glowing fire, to be ready against the baby should come out of +its bath; while in the right-hand foreground we have the levatrice, +who having discharged her task, and being now so disposed, has +removed the bottle from the chimney-piece, and put it near some +bread, fruit and a chicken, over which she is about to discuss the +confinement with two other gossips. The levatrice is a very +characteristic figure, but the best in the chapel is the one of the +head nurse, near the middle of the composition; she has now the +infant in full charge, and is showing it to St. Joachim, with an +expression as though she were telling him that her husband was a +merry man. I am afraid Shakespeare was dead before the sculptor was +born, otherwise I should have felt certain that he had drawn +Juliet's nurse from this figure. As for the little Virgin herself, +I believe her to be a fine boy of about ten months old. Viewing the +work as a whole, if I only felt more sure what artistic merit really +is, I should say that, though the chapel cannot be rated very highly +from some standpoints, there are others from which it may be praised +warmly enough. It is innocent of anatomy-worship, free from +affectation or swagger, and not devoid of a good deal of homely +naivete. It can no more be compared with Tabachetti or Donatello +than Hogarth can with Rembrandt or Giovanni Bellini; but as it does +not transcend the limitations of its age, so neither is it wanting +in whatever merits that age possessed; and there is no age without +merits of some kind. There is no inscription saying who made the +figures, but tradition gives them to Pietro Aureggio Termine, of +Biella, commonly called Aureggio. This is confirmed by their strong +resemblance to those in the Dimora Chapel, in which there is an +inscription that names Aureggio as the sculptor. + +The sixth chapel deals with the Presentation of the Virgin in the +Temple. The Virgin is very small, but it must be remembered that +she is only seven years old, and she is not nearly so small as she +is at Crea, where, though a life-sized figure is intended, the head +is hardly bigger than an apple. She is rushing up the steps with +open arms towards the High Priest, who is standing at the top. For +her it is nothing alarming; it is the High Priest who appears +frightened; but it will all come right in time. The Virgin seems to +be saying, "Why, don't you know me? I'm the Virgin Mary." But the +High Priest does not feel so sure about that, and will make further +inquiries. The scene, which comprises some twenty figures, is +animated enough, and though it hardly kindles enthusiasm, still does +not fail to please. It looks as though of somewhat older date than +the Birth of the Virgin chapel, and I should say shows more signs of +direct Valsesian influence. In Marocco's book about Oropa it is +ascribed to Aureggio, but I find it difficult to accept this. + +The seventh, and in many respects most interesting chapel at Oropa, +shows what is in reality a medieval Italian girl school, as nearly +like the thing itself as the artist could make it; we are expected, +however, to see in this the high-class kind of Girton College for +young gentlewomen that was attached to the Temple at Jerusalem, +under the direction of the Chief Priest's wife, or some one of his +near female relatives. Here all well-to-do Jewish young women +completed their education, and here accordingly we find the Virgin, +whose parents desired she should shine in every accomplishment, and +enjoy all the advantages their ample means commanded. + +I have met with no traces of the Virgin during the years between her +Presentation in the Temple and her becoming head girl at Temple +College. These years, we may be assured, can hardly have been other +than eventful; but incidents, or bits of life, are like living +forms--it is only here and here, as by rare chance, that one of them +gets arrested and fossilised; the greater number disappear like the +greater number of antediluvian molluscs, and no one can say why one +of these flies, as it were, of life should get preserved in amber +more than another. Talk, indeed, about luck and cunning; what a +grain of sand as against a hundredweight is cunning's share here as +against luck's. What moment could be more humdrum and unworthy of +special record than the one chosen by the artist for the chapel we +are considering? Why should this one get arrested in its flight and +made immortal when so many worthier ones have perished? Yet +preserved it assuredly is; it is as though some fairy's wand had +struck the medieval Miss Pinkerton, Amelia Sedley, and others who do +duty instead of the Hebrew originals. It has locked them up as +sleeping beauties, whose charms all may look upon. Surely the hours +are like the women grinding at the mill--the one is taken and the +other left, and none can give the reason more than he can say why +Gallio should have won immortality by caring for none of "these +things." + +It seems to me, moreover, that fairies have changed their practice +now in the matter of sleeping beauties, much as shopkeepers have +done in Regent Street. Formerly the shopkeeper used to shut up his +goods behind strong shutters, so that no one might see them after +closing hours. Now he leaves everything open to the eye and turns +the gas on. So the fairies, who used to lock up their sleeping +beauties in impenetrable thickets, now leave them in the most public +places they can find, as knowing that they will there most certainly +escape notice. Look at De Hooghe; look at "The Pilgrim's Progress," +or even Shakespeare himself--how long they slept unawakened, though +they were in broad daylight and on the public thoroughfares all the +time. Look at Tabachetti, and the masterpieces he left at Varallo. +His figures there are exposed to the gaze of every passer-by; yet +who heeds them? Who, save a very few, even know of their existence? +Look again at Gaudenzio Ferrari, or the "Danse des Paysans," by +Holbein, to which I ventured to call attention in the Universal +Review. No, no; if a thing be in Central Africa, it is the glory of +this age to find it out; so the fairies think it safer to conceal +their proteges under a show of openness; for the schoolmaster is +much abroad, and there is no hedge so thick or so thorny as the +dulness of culture. + +It may be, again, that ever so many years hence, when Mr. Darwin's +earth-worms shall have buried Oropa hundreds of feet deep, some one +sinking a well or making a railway-cutting will unearth these +chapels, and will believe them to have been houses, and to contain +the exuviae of the living forms that tenanted them. In the +meantime, however, let us return to a consideration of the chapel as +it may now be seen by any one who cares to pass that way. + +The work consists of about forty figures in all, not counting +Cupids, and is divided into four main divisions. First, there is +the large public sitting-room or drawing-room of the College, where +the elder young ladies are engaged in various elegant employments. +Three, at a table to the left, are making a mitre for the Bishop, as +may be seen from the model on the table. Some are merely spinning +or about to spin. One young lady, sitting rather apart from the +others, is doing an elaborate piece of needlework at a tambour-frame +near the window; others are making lace or slippers, probably for +the new curate; another is struggling with a letter, or perhaps a +theme, which seems to be giving her a good deal of trouble, but +which, when done, will, I am sure, be beautiful. One dear little +girl is simply reading "Paul and Virginia" underneath the window, +and is so concealed that I hardly think she can be seen from the +outside at all, though from inside she is delightful; it was with +great regret that I could not get her into any photograph. One most +amiable young woman has got a child's head on her lap, the child +having played itself to sleep. All are industriously and agreeably +employed in some way or other; all are plump; all are nice looking; +there is not one Becky Sharp in the whole school; on the contrary, +as in "Pious Orgies," all is pious--or sub-pious--and all, if not +great, is at least eminently respectable. One feels that St. +Joachim and St. Anne could not have chosen a school more +judiciously, and that if one had daughter oneself this is exactly +where one would wish to place her. If there is a fault of any kind +in the arrangements, it is that they do not keep cats enough. The +place is overrun with mice, though what these can find to eat I know +not. It occurs to me also that the young ladies might be kept a +little more free of spiders' webs; but in all these chapels, bats, +mice and spiders are troublesome. + +Off the main drawing-room on the side facing the window there is a +dais, which is approached by a large raised semicircular step, +higher than the rest of the floor, but lower than the dais itself. +The dais is, of course, reserved for the venerable Lady Principal +and the under-mistresses, one of whom, by the way, is a little more +mondaine than might have been expected, and is admiring herself in a +looking-glass--unless, indeed, she is only looking to see if there +is a spot of ink on her face. The Lady Principal is seated near a +table, on which lie some books in expensive bindings, which I +imagine to have been presented to her by the parents of pupils who +were leaving school. One has given her a photographic album; +another a large scrap-book, for illustrations of all kinds; a third +volume has red edges, and is presumably of a devotional character. +If I dared venture another criticism, I should say it would be +better not to keep the ink-pot on the top of these books. The Lady +Principal is being read to by the monitress for the week, whose duty +it was to recite selected passages from the most approved Hebrew +writers; she appears to be a good deal outraged, possibly at the +faulty intonation of the reader, which she has long tried vainly to +correct; or perhaps she has been hearing of the atrocious way in +which her forefathers had treated the prophets, and is explaining to +the young ladies how impossible it would be, in their own more +enlightened age, for a prophet to fail of recognition. + +On the half-dais, as I suppose the large semicircular step between +the main room and the dais should be called, we find, first, the +monitress for the week, who stands up while she recites; and +secondly, the Virgin herself, who is the only pupil allowed a seat +so near to the august presence of the Lady Principal. She is +ostensibly doing a piece of embroidery which is stretched on a +cushion on her lap, but I should say that she was chiefly interested +in the nearest of four pretty little Cupids, who are all trying to +attract her attention, though they pay no court to any other young +lady. I have sometimes wondered whether the obviously scandalised +gesture of the Lady Principal might not be directed at these Cupids, +rather than at anything the monitress may have been reading, for she +would surely find them disquieting. Or she may be saying, "Why, +bless me! I do declare the Virgin has got another hamper, and St. +Anne's cakes are always so terribly rich!" Certainly the hamper is +there, close to the Virgin, and the Lady Principal's action may be +well directed at it, but it may have been sent to some other young +lady, and be put on the sub-dais for public exhibition. It looks as +if it might have come from Fortnum and Mason's, and I half expected +to find a label, addressing it to "The Virgin Mary, Temple College, +Jerusalem," but if ever there was one the mice have long since eaten +it. The Virgin herself does not seem to care much about it, but if +she has a fault it is that she is generally a little apathetic. + +Whose the hamper was, however, is a point we shall never now +certainly determine, for the best fossil is worse than the worst +living form. Why, alas! was not Mr. Edison alive when this chapel +was made? We might then have had a daily phonographic recital of +the conversation, and an announcement might be put outside the +chapels, telling us at what hours the figures would speak. + +On either of side the main room there are two annexes opening out +from it; these are reserved chiefly for the younger children, some +of whom, I think, are little boys. In the left-hand annex, behind +the ladies who are making a mitre, there is a child who has got a +cake, and another has some fruit--possibly given them by the Virgin- +-and a third child is begging for some of it. The light failed so +completely here that I was not able to photograph any of these +figures. It was a dull September afternoon, and the clouds had +settled thick round the chapel, which is never very light, and is +nearly 4000 feet above the sea. I waited till such twilight as made +it hopeless that more detail could be got--and a queer ghostly place +enough it was to wait in--but after giving the plate an exposure of +fifty minutes, I saw I could get no more, and desisted. + +These long photographic exposures have the advantage that one is +compelled to study a work in detail through mere lack of other +employment, and that one can take one's notes in peace without being +tempted to hurry over them; but even so I continually find I have +omitted to note, and have clean forgotten, much that I want later +on. + +In the other annex there are also one or two younger children, but +it seems to have been set apart for conversation and relaxation more +than any other part of the establishment. + +I have already said that the work is signed by an inscription inside +the chapel, to the effect that the sculptures are by Pietro Aureggio +Termine di Biella. It will be seen that the young ladies are +exceedingly like one another, and that the artist aimed at nothing +more than a faithful rendering of the life of his own times. Let us +be thankful that he aimed at nothing less. Perhaps his wife kept a +girls' school; or he may have had a large family of fat, good- +natured daughters, whose little ways he had studied attentively; at +all events the work is full of spontaneous incident, and cannot fail +to become more and more interesting as the age it renders falls +farther back into the past. It is to be regretted that many +artists, better known men, have not been satisfied with the humbler +ambitions of this most amiable and interesting sculptor. If he has +left us no laboured life-studies, he has at least done something for +us which we can find nowhere else, which we should be very sorry not +to have, and the fidelity of which to Italian life at the beginning +of the last century will not be disputed. + +The eighth chapel is that of the Sposalizio, is certainly not by +Aureggio, and I should say was mainly by the same sculptor who did +the Presentation in the Temple. On going inside I found the figures +had come from more than one source; some of them are constructed so +absolutely on Valsesian principles, as regards technique, that it +may be assumed they came from Varallo. Each of these last figures +is in three pieces, that are baked separately and cemented together +afterwards, hence they are more easily transported; no more clay is +used than is absolutely necessary; and the off-side of the figure is +neglected; they will be found chiefly, if not entirely, at the top +of the steps. The other figures are more solidly built, and do not +remind me in their business features of anything in the Valsesia. +There was a sculptor, Francesco Sala, of Locarno (doubtless the +village a short distance below Varallo, and not the Locarno on the +Lago Maggiore), who made designs for some of the Oropa chapels, and +some of whose letters are still preserved, but whether the Valsesian +figures in this present work are by him or not I cannot say. + +The statues are twenty-five in number; I could find no date or +signature; the work reminds me of Montrigone; several of the figures +are not at all bad, and several have horsehair for hair, as at +Varallo. The effect of the whole composition is better than we have +a right to expect from any sculpture dating from the beginning of +the last century. + +The ninth chapel, the Annunciation, presents no feature of interest; +nor yet does the tenth, the Visit of Mary to Elizabeth. The +eleventh, the Nativity, though rather better, is still not +remarkable. + +The twelfth, the Purification, is absurdly bad, but I do not know +whether the expression of strong personal dislike to the Virgin +which the High Priest wears is intended as prophetic, or whether it +is the result of incompetence, or whether it is merely a smile gone +wrong in the baking. It is amusing to find Marocco, who has not +been strict about archaeological accuracy hitherto, complain here +that there is an anachronism, inasmuch as some young ecclesiastics +are dressed as they would be at present, and one of them actually +carries a wax candle. This is not as it should be; in works like +those at Oropa, where implicit reliance is justly placed on the +earnest endeavours that have been so successfully made to thoroughly +and carefully and patiently ensure the accuracy of the minutest +details, it is a pity that even a single error should have escaped +detection; this, however, has most unfortunately happened here, and +Marocco feels it his duty to put us on our guard. He explains that +the mistake arose from the sculptor's having taken both his general +arrangement and his details from some picture of the fourteenth or +fifteenth century, when the value of the strictest historical +accuracy was not yet so fully understood. + +It seems to me that in the matter of accuracy, priests and men of +science whether lay or regular on the one hand, and plain people +whether lay or regular on the other, are trying to play a different +game, and fail to understand one another because they do not see +that their objects are not the same. The cleric and the man of +science (who is only the cleric in his latest development) are +trying to develop a throat with two distinct passages--one that +shall refuse to pass even the smallest gnat, and another that shall +gracefully gulp even the largest camel; whereas we men of the street +desire but one throat, and are content that this shall swallow +nothing bigger than a pony. Every one knows that there is no such +effectual means of developing the power to swallow camels as +incessant watchfulness for opportunities of straining at gnats, and +this should explain many passages that puzzle us in the work both of +our clerics and our scientists. I, not being a man of science, +still continue to do what I said I did in "Alps and Sanctuaries," +and make it a rule to earnestly and patiently and carefully swallow +a few of the smallest gnats I can find several times a day, as the +best astringent for the throat I know of. + +The thirteenth chapel is the Marriage Feast at Cana of Galilee. +This is the best chapel as a work of art; indeed, it is the only one +which can claim to be taken quite seriously. Not that all the +figures are very good; those to the left of the composition are +commonplace enough; nor are the Christ and the giver of the feast at +all remarkable; but the ten or dozen figures of guests and +attendants at the right-hand end of the work are as good as anything +of their kind can be, and remind me so strongly of Tabachetti that I +cannot doubt they were done by some one who was indirectly +influenced by that great sculptor's work. It is not likely that +Tabachetti was alive long after 1640, by which time he would have +been about eighty years old; and the foundations of this chapel were +not laid till about 1690; the statues are probably a few years +later; they can hardly, therefore, be by one who had even studied +under Tabachetti; but until I found out the dates, and went inside +the chapel to see the way in which the figures had been constructed, +I was inclined to think they might be by Tabachetti himself, of +whom, indeed, they are not unworthy. On examining the figures I +found them more heavily constructed than Tabachetti's are, with +smaller holes for taking out superfluous clay, and more finished on +the off-sides. Marocco says the sculptor is not known. I looked in +vain for any date or signature. Possibly the right-hand figures +(for the left-hand ones can hardly be by the same hand) may be by +some sculptor from Crea, which is at no very great distance from +Oropa, who was penetrated by Tabachetti's influence; but whether as +regards action and concert with one another, or as regards +excellence in detail, I do not see how anything can be more +realistic, and yet more harmoniously composed. The placing of the +musicians in a minstrels' gallery helps the effect; these musicians +are six in number, and the other figures are twenty-three. Under +the table, between Christ and the giver of the feast, there is a +cat. + +The fourteenth chapel, the Assumption of the Virgin Mary, is without +interest. + +The fifteenth, the Coronation of the Virgin, contains forty-six +angels, twenty-six cherubs, fifty-six saints, the Holy Trinity, the +Madonna herself, and twenty-four innocents, making 156 statues in +all. Of these I am afraid there is not one of more than ordinary +merit; the most interesting is a half-length nude life-study of +Disma--the good thief. After what had been promised him it was +impossible to exclude him, but it was felt that a half-length nude +figure would be as much as he could reasonably expect. + +Behind the sanctuary there is a semi-ruinous and wholly valueless +work, which shows the finding of the black image, which is now in +the church, but is only shown on great festivals. + +This leads us to a consideration that I have delayed till now. The +black image is the central feature of Oropa; it is the raison d'etre +of the whole place, and all else is a mere incrustation, so to +speak, around it. According to this image, then, which was carved +by St. Luke himself, and than which nothing can be better +authenticated, both the Madonna and the infant Christ were as black +as anything can be conceived. It is not likely that they were as +black as they have been painted; no one yet ever was so black as +that; yet, even allowing for some exaggeration on St. Luke's part, +they must have been exceedingly black if the portrait is to be +accepted; and uncompromisingly black they accordingly are on most of +the wayside chapels for many a mile around Oropa. Yet in the +chapels we have been hitherto considering--works in which, as we +know, the most punctilious regard has been shown to accuracy--both +the Virgin and Christ are uncompromisingly white. As in the shops +under the Colonnade where devotional knick-knacks are sold, you can +buy a black china image or a white one, whichever you like; so with +the pictures--the black and white are placed side by side--pagando +il danaro si puo scegliere. It rests not with history or with the +Church to say whether the Madonna and Child were black or white, but +you may settle it for yourself, whichever way you please, or rather +you are required, with the acquiescence of the Church, to hold that +they were both black and white at one and the same time. + +It cannot be maintained that the Church leaves the matter undecided, +and by tolerating both types proclaims the question an open one, for +she acquiesces in the portrait by St. Luke as genuine. How, then, +justify the whiteness of the Holy Family in the chapels? If the +portrait is not known as genuine, why set such a stumbling-block in +our paths as to show us a black Madonna and a white one, both as +historically accurate, within a few yards of one another? + +I ask this not in mockery, but as knowing that the Church must have +an explanation to give, if she would only give it, and as myself +unable to find any, even the most farfetched, that can bring what we +see at Oropa, Loreto and elsewhere into harmony with modern +conscience, either intellectual or ethical. + +I see, indeed, from an interesting article in the Atlantic Monthly +for September 1889, entitled "The Black Madonna of Loreto," that +black Madonnas were so frequent in ancient Christian art that "some +of the early writers of the Church felt obliged to account for it by +explaining that the Virgin was of a very dark complexion, as might +be proved by the verse of Canticles which says, 'I am black, but +comely, O ye daughters of Jerusalem.' Others maintained that she +became black during her sojourn in Egypt. . . . Priests, of to-day, +say that extreme age and exposure to the smoke of countless altar- +candles have caused that change in complexion which the more naive +fathers of the Church attributed to the power of an Egyptian sun"; +but the writer ruthlessly disposes of this supposition by pointing +out that in nearly all the instances of black Madonnas it is the +flesh alone that is entirely black, the crimson of the lips, the +white of the eyes, and the draperies having preserved their original +colour. The authoress of the article (Mrs. Hilliard) goes on to +tell us that Pausanias mentions two statues of the black Venus, and +says that the oldest statue of Ceres among the Phigalenses was +black. She adds that Minerva Aglaurus, the daughter of Cecrops, at +Athens, was black; that Corinth had a black Venus, as also the +Thespians; that the oracles of Dodona and Delphi were founded by +black doves, the emissaries of Venus, and that the Isis Multimammia +in the Capitol at Rome is black. + +Sometimes I have asked myself whether the Church does not intend to +suggest that the whole story falls outside the domain of history, +and is to be held as the one great epos, or myth, common to all +mankind; adaptable by each nation according to its own several +needs; translatable, so to speak, into the facts of each individual +nation, as the written word is translatable into its language, but +appertaining to the realm of the imagination rather than to that of +the understanding, and precious for spiritual rather than literal +truths. More briefly, I have wondered whether she may not intend +that such details as whether the Virgin was white or black are of +very little importance in comparison with the basing of ethics on a +story that shall appeal to black races as well as to white ones. + +If so, it is time we were made to understand this more clearly. If +the Church, whether of Rome or England, would lean to some such view +as this--tainted though it be with mysticism--if we could see either +great branch of the Church make a frank, authoritative attempt to +bring its teaching into greater harmony with the educated +understanding and conscience of the time, instead of trying to +fetter that understanding with bonds that gall it daily more and +more profoundly; then I, for one, in view of the difficulty and +graciousness of the task, and in view of the great importance of +historical continuity, would gladly sink much of my own private +opinion as to the value of the Christian ideal, and would gratefully +help either Church or both, according to the best of my very feeble +ability. On these terms, indeed, I could swallow not a few camels +myself cheerfully enough. + +Can we, however, see any signs as though either Rome or England will +stir hand or foot to meet us? Can any step be pointed to as though +either Church wished to make things easier for men holding the +opinions held by the late Mr. Darwin, or by Mr. Herbert Spencer and +Professor Huxley? How can those who accept evolution with any +thoroughness accept such doctrines as the Incarnation or the +Redemption with any but a quasi-allegorical and poetical +interpretation? Can we conceivably accept these doctrines in the +literal sense in which the Church advances them? And can the +leaders of the Church be blind to the resistlessness of the current +that has set against those literal interpretations which she seems +to hug more and more closely the more religious life is awakened at +all? The clergyman is wanted as supplementing the doctor and the +lawyer in all civilised communities; these three keep watch on one +another, and prevent one another from becoming too powerful. I, who +distrust the doctrinaire in science even more than the doctrinaire +in religion, should view with dismay the abolition of the Church of +England, as knowing that a blatant bastard science would instantly +step into her shoes; but if some such deplorable consummation is to +be avoided in England, it can only be through more evident leaning +on the part of our clergy to such an interpretation of the Sacred +History as the presence of a black and white Madonna almost side by +side at Oropa appears to suggest. + +I fear that in these last paragraphs I may have trenched on +dangerous ground, but it is not possible to go to such places as +Oropa without asking oneself what they mean and involve. As for the +average Italian pilgrims, they do not appear to give the matter so +much as a thought. They love Oropa, and flock to it in thousands +during the summer; the President of the Administration assured me +that they lodged, after a fashion, as many as ten thousand pilgrims +on the 15th of last August. It is astonishing how living the +statues are to these people, and how the wicked are upbraided and +the good applauded. At Varallo, since I took the photographs I +published in my book "Ex Voto," an angry pilgrim has smashed the +nose of the dwarf in Tabachetti's Journey to Calvary, for no other +reason than inability to restrain his indignation against one who +was helping to inflict pain on Christ. It is the real hair and the +painting up to nature that does this. Here at Oropa I found a paper +on the floor of the Sposalizio Chapel, which ran as follows:- + +"By the grace of God and the will of the administrative chapter of +this sanctuary, there have come here to work -- --, mason -- --, +carpenter, and -- -- plumber, all of Chiavazza, on the twenty-first +day of January 1886, full of cold (pieni di freddo). + +"They write these two lines to record their visit. They pray the +Blessed Virgin that she will maintain them safe and sound from +everything equivocal that may befall them (sempre sani e salvi da +ogni equivoco li possa accadere). Oh, farewell! We reverently +salute all the present statues, and especially the Blessed Virgin, +and the reader." + +Through the Universal Review, I suppose, all its readers are to +consider themselves saluted; at any rate, these good fellows, in the +effusiveness of their hearts, actually wrote the above in pencil. I +was sorely tempted to steal it, but, after copying it, left it in +the Chief Priest's hands instead. + + + +ART IN THE VALLEY OF SAAS {11} + + + +Having been told by Mr. Fortescue, of the British Museum, that there +were some chapels at Saas-Fee which bore analogy to those at +Varallo, described in my book "Ex Voto," {12} I went to Saas during +this last summer, and venture now to lay my conclusions before the +reader. + +The chapels are fifteen in number, and lead up to a larger and +singularly graceful one, rather more than half-way between Saas and +Saas-Fee. This is commonly but wrongly called the chapel of St. +Joseph, for it is dedicated to the Virgin, and its situation is of +such extreme beauty--the great Fee glaciers showing through the open +portico--that it is in itself worth a pilgrimage. It is surrounded +by noble larches and overhung by rock; in front of the portico there +is a small open space covered with grass, and a huge larch, the stem +of which is girt by a rude stone seat. The portico itself contains +seats for worshippers, and a pulpit from which the preacher's voice +can reach the many who must stand outside. The walls of the inner +chapel are hung with votive pictures, some of them very quaint and +pleasing, and not overweighted by those qualities that are usually +dubbed by the name of artistic merit. Innumerable wooden and waxen +representations of arms, legs, eyes, ears and babies tell of the +cures that have been effected during two centuries of devotion, and +can hardly fail to awaken a kindly sympathy with the long dead and +forgotten folks who placed them where they are. + +The main interest, however, despite the extreme loveliness of the +St. Mary's Chapel, centres rather in the small and outwardly +unimportant oratories (if they should be so called) that lead up to +it. These begin immediately with the ascent from the level ground +on which the village of Saas-im-Grund is placed, and contain scenes +in the history of the Redemption, represented by rude but spirited +wooden figures, each about two feet high, painted, gilt, and +rendered as life-like in all respects as circumstances would permit. +The figures have suffered a good deal from neglect, and are still +not a little misplaced. With the assistance, however, of the Rev. +E. J. Selwyn, English Chaplain at Saas-im-Grund, I have been able to +replace many of them in their original positions, as indicated by +the parts of the figures that are left rough-hewn and unpainted. +They vary a good deal in interest, and can be easily sneered at by +those who make a trade of sneering. Those, on the other hand, who +remain unsophisticated by overmuch art-culture will find them full +of character in spite of not a little rudeness of execution, and +will be surprised at coming across such works in a place so remote +from any art-centre as Saas must have been at the time these chapels +were made. It will be my business therefore to throw what light I +can upon the questions how they came to be made at all, and who was +the artist who designed them. + +The only documentary evidence consists in a chronicle of the valley +of Saas written in the early years of this century by the Rev. Peter +Jos. Ruppen, and published at Sion in 1851. This work makes +frequent reference to a manuscript by the Rev. Peter Joseph Clemens +Lommatter, cure of Saas-Fee from 1738 to 1751, which has +unfortunately been lost, so that we have no means of knowing how +closely it was adhered to. The Rev. Jos. Ant. Ruppen, the present +excellent cure of Saas-im-Grund, assures me that there is no +reference to the Saas-Fee oratories in the "Actes de l'Eglise" at +Saas, which I understand go a long way back; but I have not seen +these myself. Practically, then, we have no more documentary +evidence than is to be found in the published chronicle above +referred to. + +We there find it stated that the large chapel, commonly, but as +above explained, wrongly called St. Joseph's, was built in 1687, and +enlarged by subscription in 1747. These dates appear on the +building itself, and are no doubt accurate. The writer adds that +there was no actual edifice on this site before the one now existing +was built, but there was a miraculous picture of the Virgin placed +in a mural niche, before which the pious herdsmen and devout +inhabitants of the valley worshipped under the vault of heaven. {13} +A miraculous (or miracle-working) picture was always more or less +rare and important; the present site, therefore, seems to have been +long one of peculiar sanctity. Possibly the name Fee may point to +still earlier Pagan mysteries on the same site. + +As regards the fifteen small chapels, the writer says they +illustrate the fifteen mysteries of the Psalter, and were built in +1709, each householder of the Saas-Fee contributing one chapel. He +adds that Heinrich Andenmatten, afterwards a brother of the Society +of Jesus, was an especial benefactor or promoter of the undertaking. +One of the chapels, the Ascension (No. 12 of the series), has the +date 1709 painted on it; but there is no date on any other chapel, +and there seems no reason why this should be taken as governing the +whole series. + +Over and above this, there exists in Saas a tradition, as I was told +immediately on my arrival, by an English visitor, that the chapels +were built in consequence of a flood, but I have vainly endeavoured +to trace this story to an indigenous source. + +The internal evidence of the wooden figures themselves--nothing +analogous to which, it should be remembered, can be found in the +chapel of 1687--points to a much earlier date. I have met with no +school of sculpture belonging to the early part of the eighteenth +century to which they can be plausibly assigned; and the supposition +that they are the work of some unknown local genius who was not led +up to and left no successors may be dismissed, for the work is too +scholarly to have come from any one but a trained sculptor. I refer +of course to those figures which the artist must be supposed to have +executed with his own hand, as, for example, the central figure of +the Crucifixion group and those of the Magdalene and St. John. The +greater number of the figures were probably, as was suggested to me +by Mr. Ranshaw, of Lowth, executed by a local woodcarver from models +in clay and wax furnished by the artist himself. Those who examine +the play of line in the hair, mantle, and sleeve of the Magdalene in +the Crucifixion group, and contrast it with the greater part of the +remaining draperies, will find little hesitation in concluding that +this was the case, and will ere long readily distinguish the two +hands from which the figures have mainly come. I say "mainly," +because there is at least one other sculptor who may well have +belonged to the year 1709, but who fortunately has left us little. +Examples of his work may perhaps be seen in the nearest villain with +a big hat in the Flagellation chapel, and in two cherubs in the +Assumption of the Virgin. + +We may say, then, with some certainty, that the designer was a +cultivated and practised artist. We may also not less certainly +conclude that he was of Flemish origin, for the horses in the +Journey to Calvary and Crucifixion chapels, where alone there are +any horses at all, are of Flemish breed, with no trace of the Arab +blood adopted by Gaudenzio at Varallo. The character, moreover, of +the villains is Northern--of the Quentin Matsys, Martin Schongauer +type, rather than Italian; the same sub-Rubensesque feeling which is +apparent in more than one chapel at Varallo is not less evident +here--especially in the Journey to Calvary and Crucifixion chapels. +There can hardly, therefore, be a doubt that the artist was a +Fleming who had worked for several years in Italy. + +It is also evident that he had Tabachetti's work at Varallo well in +his mind. For not only does he adopt certain details of costume (I +refer particularly to the treatment of soldiers' tunics) which are +peculiar to Tabachetti at Varallo, but whenever he treats a subject +which Tabachetti had treated at Varallo, as in the Flagellation, +Crowning with Thorns, and Journey to Calvary chapels, the work at +Saas is evidently nothing but a somewhat modified abridgement of +that at Varallo. When, however, as in the Annunciation, the +Nativity, the Crucifixion, and other chapels, the work at Varallo is +by another than Tabachetti, no allusion is made to it. The Saas +artist has Tabachetti's Varallo work at his finger-ends, but betrays +no acquaintance whatever with Gaudenzio Ferrari, Gio. Ant. Paracca, +or Giovanni D'Enrico. + +Even, moreover, when Tabachetti's work at Varallo is being most +obviously drawn from, as in the Journey to Calvary chapel, the Saas +version differs materially from that at Varallo, and is in some +respects an improvement on it. The idea of showing other horsemen +and followers coming up from behind, whose heads can be seen over +the crown of the interposing hill, is singularly effective as +suggesting a number of others that are unseen, nor can I conceive +that any one but the original designer would follow Tabachetti's +Varallo design with as much closeness as it has been followed here, +and yet make such a brilliantly successful modification. The +stumbling, again, of one horse (a detail almost hidden, according to +Tabachetti's wont) is a touch which Tabachetti himself might add, +but which no Saas woodcarver who was merely adapting from a +reminiscence of Tabachetti's Varallo chapel would be likely to +introduce. These considerations have convinced me that the designer +of the chapels at Saas is none other than Tabachetti himself, who, +as has been now conclusively shown, was a native of Dinant, in +Belgium. + +The Saas chronicler, indeed, avers that the chapels were not built +till 1709--a statement apparently corroborated by a date now visible +on one chapel; but we must remember that the chronicler did not +write until a century or so later than 1709, and though, indeed, his +statement may have been taken from the lost earlier manuscript of +1738, we know nothing about this either one way or the other. The +writer may have gone by the still existing 1709 on the Ascension +chapel, whereas this date may in fact have referred to a +restoration, and not to an original construction. There is nothing, +as I have said, in the choice of the chapel on which the date +appears, to suggest that it was intended to govern the others. I +have explained that the work is isolated and exotic. It is by one +in whom Flemish and Italian influences are alike equally +predominant; by one who was saturated with Tabachetti's Varallo +work, and who can improve upon it, but over whom the other Varallo +sculptors have no power. The style of the work is of the sixteenth +and not of the eighteenth century--with a few obvious exceptions +that suit the year 1709 exceedingly well. Against such +considerations as these, a statement made at the beginning of this +century referring to a century earlier, and a promiscuous date upon +one chapel, can carry but little weight. I shall assume, therefore, +henceforward, that we have here groups designed in a plastic +material by Tabachetti, and reproduced in wood by the best local +wood-sculptor available, with the exception of a few figures cut by +the artist himself. + +We ask, then, at what period in his life did Tabachetti design these +chapels, and what led to his coming to such an out-of-the-way place +as Saas at all? We should remember that, according both to Fassola +and Torrotti (writing in 1671 and 1686 respectively), Tabachetti +{14} became insane about the year 1586 or early in 1587, after +having just begun the Salutation chapel. I have explained in "Ex +Voto" that I do not believe this story. I have no doubt that +Tabachetti was declared to be mad, but I believe this to have been +due to an intrigue, set on foot in order to get a foreign artist out +of the way, and to secure the Massacre of the Innocents chapel, at +that precise time undertaken, for Gio. Ant. Paracca, who was an +Italian. + +Or he may have been sacrificed in order to facilitate the return of +the workers in stucco whom he had superseded on the Sacro Monte. He +may have been goaded into some imprudence which was seized upon as a +pretext for shutting him up; at any rate, the fact that when in 1587 +he inherited his father's property at Dinant, his trustee (he being +expressly stated to be "expatrie") was "datif," "dativus," appointed +not by himself but by the court, lends colour to the statement that +he was not his own master at the time; for in later kindred deeds, +now at Namur, he appoints his own trustee. I suppose, then, that +Tabachetti was shut up in a madhouse at Varallo for a considerable +time, during which I can find no trace of him, but that eventually +he escaped or was released. + +Whether he was a fugitive, or whether he was let out from prison, he +would in either case, in all reasonable probability, turn his face +homeward. If he was escaping, he would make immediately for the +Savoy frontier, within which Saas then lay. He would cross the +Baranca above Fobello, coming down on to Ponte Grande in the Val +Anzasca. He would go up the Val Anzasca to Macugnaga, and over the +Monte Moro, which would bring him immediately to Saas. Saas, +therefore, is the nearest and most natural place for him to make +for, if he were flying from Varallo, and here I suppose him to have +halted. + +It so happened that on the 9th of September, 1589, there was one of +the three great outbreaks of the Mattmark See that have from time to +time devastated the valley of Saas. {15} It is probable that the +chapels were decided upon in consequence of some grace shown by the +miraculous picture of the Virgin, which had mitigated a disaster +occurring so soon after the anniversary of her own Nativity. +Tabachetti, arriving at this juncture, may have offered to undertake +them if the Saas people would give him an asylum. Here, at any +rate, I suppose him to have stayed till some time in 1590, probably +the second half of it, his design of eventually returning home, if +he ever entertained it, being then interrupted by a summons to Crea +near Casale, where I believe him to have worked with a few brief +interruptions thenceforward for little if at all short of half a +century, or until about the year 1640. I admit, however, that the +evidence for assigning him so long a life rests solely on the +supposed identity of the figure known as "Il Vecchietto," in the +Varallo Descent from the Cross chapel, with the portrait of +Tabachetti himself in the Ecce Homo chapel, also at Varallo. + +I find additional reason for thinking the chapels owe their origin +to the inundation of September 9, 1589, in the fact that the 8th of +September is made a day of pilgrimage to the Saas-Fee chapels +throughout the whole valley of Saas. It is true the 8th of +September is the festival of the Nativity of the Virgin Mary, so +that under any circumstances this would be a great day, but the fact +that not only the people of Saas, but the whole valley down to Visp, +flock to this chapel on the 8th of September, points to the belief +that some special act of grace on the part of the Virgin was +vouchsafed on this day in connection with this chapel. A belief +that it was owing to the intervention of St. Mary of Fee that the +inundation was not attended with loss of life would be very likely +to lead to the foundation of a series of chapels leading up to the +place where her miraculous picture was placed, and to the more +special celebration of her Nativity in connection with this spot +throughout the valley of Saas. I have discussed the subject with +the Rev. Jos. Ant. Ruppen, and he told me he thought the fact that +the great fete of the year in connection with the Saas-Fee chapels +was on the 8th of September pointed rather strongly to the +supposition that there was a connection between these and the +recorded flood of September 9, 1589. + +Turning to the individual chapels they are as follows:- + +1. The Annunciation. The treatment here presents no more analogy +to that of the same subject at Varallo than is inevitable in the +nature of the subject. The Annunciation figures at Varallo have +proved to be mere draped dummies with wooden heads; Tabachetti, even +though he did the heads, which he very likely did, would take no +interest in the Varallo work with the same subject. The +Annunciation, from its very simplicity as well as from the +transcendental nature of the subject, is singularly hard to treat, +and the work here, whatever it may once have been, is now no longer +remarkable. + +2. The Salutation of Mary by Elizabeth. This group, again, bears +no analogy to the Salutation chapel at Varallo, in which +Tabachetti's share was so small that it cannot be considered as in +any way his. It is not to be expected, therefore, that the Saas +chapel should follow the Varallo one. The figures, four in number, +are pleasing and well arranged. St. Joseph, St. Elizabeth, and St. +Zacharias are all talking at once. The Virgin is alone silent. + +3. The Nativity is much damaged and hard to see. The treatment +bears no analogy to that adopted by Gaudenzio Ferrari at Varallo. +There is one pleasing young shepherd standing against the wall, but +some figures have no doubt (as in others of the chapels) +disappeared, and those that remain have been so shifted from their +original positions that very little idea can be formed of what the +group was like when Tabachetti left it. + +4. The Purification. I can hardly say why this chapel should +remind me, as it does, of the Circumcision chapel at Varallo, for +there are more figures here than space at Varallo will allow. It +cannot be pretended that any single figure is of extraordinary +merit, but amongst them they tell their story with excellent effect. +Two, those of St. Joseph and St. Anna (?), that doubtless were once +more important factors in the drama, are now so much in corners near +the window that they can hardly be seen. + +5. The Dispute in the Temple. This subject is not treated at +Varallo. Here at Saas there are only six doctors now; whether or no +there were originally more cannot be determined. + +6. The Agony in the Garden. Tabachetti had no chapel with this +subject at Varallo, and there is no resemblance between the Saas +chapel and that by D'Enrico. The figures are no doubt approximately +in their original positions, but I have no confidence that I have +rearranged them correctly. They were in such confusion when I first +saw them that the Rev. E. J. Selwyn and myself determined to +rearrange them. They have doubtless been shifted more than once +since Tabachetti left them. The sleeping figures are all good. St. +James is perhaps a little prosaic. One Roman soldier who is coming +into the garden with a lantern, and motioning silence with his hand, +does duty for the others that are to follow him. I should think +more than one of these figures is actually carved in wood by +Tabachetti, allowance being made for the fact that he was working in +a material with which he was not familiar, and which no sculptor of +the highest rank has ever found congenial. + +7. The Flagellation. Tabachetti has a chapel with this subject at +Varallo, and the Saas group is obviously a descent with modification +from his work there. The figure of Christ is so like the one at +Varallo that I think it must have been carved by Tabachetti himself. +The man with the hooked nose, who at Varallo is stooping to bind his +rods, is here upright: it was probably the intention to emphasise +him in the succeeding scenes as well as this, in the same way as he +has been emphasised at Varallo, but his nose got pared down in the +cutting of later scenes, and could not easily be added to. The man +binding Christ to the column at Varallo is repeated (longo +intervallo) here, and the whole work is one inspired by that at +Varallo, though no single figure except that of the Christ is +adhered to with any very great closeness. I think the nearer +malefactor, with a goitre, and wearing a large black hat, is either +an addition of the year 1709, or was done by the journeyman of the +local sculptor who carved the greater number of the figures. The +man stooping down to bind his rods can hardly be by the same hand as +either of the two black-hatted malefactors, but it is impossible to +speak with certainty. The general effect of the chapel is +excellent, if we consider the material in which it is executed, and +the rudeness of the audience to whom it addresses itself. + +8. The Crowning with Thorns. Here again the inspiration is derived +from Tabachetti's Crowning with Thorns at Varallo. The Christs in +the two chapels are strikingly alike, and the general effect is that +of a residuary impression left in the mind of one who had known the +Varallo Flagellation exceedingly well. + +9. Sta. Veronica. This and the next succeeding chapels are the +most important of the series. Tabachetti's Journey to Calvary at +Varallo is again the source from which the present work was taken, +but, as I have already said, it has been modified in reproduction. +Mount Calvary is still shown, as at Varallo, towards the left-hand +corner of the work, but at Saas it is more towards the middle than +at Varallo, so that horsemen and soldiers may be seen coming up +behind it--a stroke that deserves the name of genius none the less +for the manifest imperfection with which it has been carried into +execution. There are only three horses fully shown, and one partly +shown. They are all of the heavy Flemish type adopted by Tabachetti +at Varallo. The man kicking the fallen Christ and the goitred man +(with the same teeth missing), who are so conspicuous in the Varallo +Journey to Calvary, reappear here, only the kicking man has much +less nose than at Varallo, probably because (as explained) the nose +got whittled away and could not be whittled back again. I observe +that the kind of lapelled tunic which Tabachetti, and only +Tabachetti, adopts at Varallo, is adopted for the centurion in this +chapel, and indeed throughout the Saas chapels this particular form +of tunic is the most usual for a Roman soldier. The work is still a +very striking one, notwithstanding its translation into wood and the +decay into which it has been allowed to fall; nor can it fail to +impress the visitor who is familiar with this class of art as coming +from a man of extraordinary dramatic power and command over the +almost impossible art of composing many figures together effectively +in all-round sculpture. Whether all the figures are even now as +Tabachetti left them I cannot determine, but Mr. Selwyn has restored +Simon the Cyrenian to the position in which he obviously ought to +stand, and between us we have got the chapel into something more +like order. + +10. The Crucifixion. This subject was treated at Varallo not by +Tabachetti but by Gaudenzio Ferrari. It confirms therefore my +opinion as to the designer of the Saas chapels to find in them no +trace of the Varallo Crucifixion, while the kind of tunic which at +Varallo is only found in chapels wherein Tabachetti worked again +appears here. The work is in a deplorable state of decay. Mr. +Selwyn has greatly improved the arrangement of the figures, but even +now they are not, I imagine, quite as Tabachetti left them. The +figure of Christ is greatly better in technical execution than that +of either of the two thieves; the folds of the drapery alone will +show this even to an unpractised eye. I do not think there can be a +doubt but that Tabachetti cut this figure himself, as also those of +the Magdalene and St. John, who stand at the foot of the cross. The +thieves are coarsely executed, with no very obvious distinction +between the penitent and the impenitent one, except that there is a +fiend painted on the ceiling over the impenitent thief. The one +horse introduced into the composition is again of the heavy Flemish +type adopted by Tabachetti at Varallo. There is great difference in +the care with which the folds on the several draperies have been +cut, some being stiff and poor enough, while others are done very +sufficiently. In spite of smallness of scale, ignoble material, +disarrangement and decay, the work is still striking. + +11. The Resurrection. There being no chapel at Varallo with any of +the remaining subjects treated at Saas, the sculptor has struck out +a line for himself. The Christ in the Resurrection Chapel is a +carefully modelled figure, and if better painted might not be +ineffective. Three soldiers, one sleeping, alone remain. There +were probably other figures that have been lost. The sleeping +soldier is very pleasing. + +12. The Ascension is not remarkably interesting; the Christ appears +to be, but perhaps is not, a much more modern figure than the rest. + +18. The Descent of the Holy Ghost. Some of the figures along the +end wall are very good, and were, I should imagine, cut by +Tabachetti himself. Those against the two side walls are not so +well cut. + +14. The Assumption of the Virgin Mary. The two large cherubs here +are obviously by a later hand, and the small ones are not good. The +figure of the Virgin herself is unexceptionable. There were +doubtless once other figures of the Apostles which have disappeared; +of these a single St. Peter (?), so hidden away in a corner near the +window that it can only be seen with difficulty, is the sole +survivor. + +15. The Coronation of the Virgin is of later date, and has probably +superseded an earlier work. It can hardly be by the designer of the +other chapels of the series. Perhaps Tabachetti had to leave for +Crea before all the chapels at Saas were finished. + +Lastly, we have the larger chapel dedicated to St. Mary, which +crowns the series. Here there is nothing of more than common +artistic interest, unless we except the stone altar mentioned in +Ruppen's chronicle. This is of course classical in style, and is, I +should think, very good. + +Once more I must caution the reader against expecting to find +highly-finished gems of art in the chapels I have been describing. +A wooden figure not more than two feet high clogged with many coats +of paint can hardly claim to be taken very seriously, and even those +few that were cut by Tabachetti himself were not meant to have +attention concentrated on themselves alone. As mere wood-carving +the Saas-Fee chapels will not stand comparison, for example, with +the triptych of unknown authorship in the Church of St. Anne at +Gliss, close to Brieg. But, in the first place, the work at Gliss +is worthy of Holbein himself: I know no wood-carving that can so +rivet the attention; moreover it is coloured with water-colour and +not oil, so that it is tinted, not painted; and, in the second +place, the Gliss triptych belongs to a date (1519) when artists held +neither time nor impressionism as objects, and hence, though greatly +better than the Saas-Fee chapels as regards a certain Japanese +curiousness of finish and naivete of literal transcription, it +cannot even enter the lists with the Saas work as regards elan and +dramatic effectiveness. The difference between the two classes of +work is much that between, say, John Van Eyck or Memling and Rubens +or Rembrandt, or, again, between Giovanni Bellini and Tintoretto; +the aims of the one class of work are incompatible with those of the +other. Moreover, in the Gliss triptych the intention of the +designer is carried out (whether by himself or no) with admirable +skill; whereas at Saas the wisdom of the workman is rather of Ober- +Ammergau than of the Egyptians, and the voice of the poet is not a +little drowned in that of his mouthpiece. If, however, the reader +will bear in mind these somewhat obvious considerations, and will +also remember the pathetic circumstances under which the chapels +were designed--for Tabachetti when he reached Saas was no doubt +shattered in body and mind by his four years' imprisonment--he will +probably be not less attracted to them than I observed were many of +the visitors both at Saas-Grund and Saas-Fee with whom I had the +pleasure of examining them. + +I will now run briefly through the other principal works in the +neighbourhood to which I think the reader would be glad to have his +attention directed. + +At Saas-Fee itself the main altar-piece is without interest, as also +one with a figure of St. Sebastian. The Virgin and Child above the +remaining altar are, so far as I remember them, very good, and +greatly superior to the smaller figures of the same altar-piece. + +At Almagel, an hour's walk or so above Saas-Grund--a village, the +name of which, like those of the Alphubel, the Monte Moro, and more +than one other neighbouring site, is supposed to be of Saracenic +origin--the main altar-piece represents a female saint with folded +arms being beheaded by a vigorous man to the left. These two +figures are very good. There are two somewhat inferior elders to +the right, and the composition is crowned by the Assumption of the +Virgin. I like the work, but have no idea who did it. Two bishops +flanking the composition are not so good. There are two other +altars in the church: the right-hand one has some pleasing figures, +not so the left-hand. + +In St. Joseph's Chapel, on the mule-road between Saas-Grund and +Saas-Fee, the St. Joseph and the two children are rather nice. In +the churches and chapels which I looked into between Saas and +Stalden, I saw many florid extravagant altar-pieces, but nothing +that impressed me favourably. + +In the parish church at Saas-Grund there are two altar-pieces which +deserve attention. In the one over the main altar the arrangement +of the Last Supper in a deep recess half-way up the composition is +very pleasing and effective; in that above the right-hand altar of +the two that stand in the body of the church there are a number of +round lunettes, about eight inches in diameter, each containing a +small but spirited group of wooden figures. I have lost my notes on +these altar-pieces and can only remember that the main one has been +restored, and now belongs to two different dates, the earlier date +being, I should imagine, about 1670. A similar treatment of the +Last Supper may be found near Brieg in the church of Naters, and no +doubt the two altar-pieces are by the same man. There are, by the +way, two very ambitious altars on either side the main arch leading +to the chance in the church at Naters, of which the one on the south +side contains obvious reminiscences of Gaudenzio Ferrari's Sta. +Maria frescoes at Varallo; but none of the four altar-pieces in the +two transepts tempted me to give them much attention. As regards +the smaller altar-piece at Saas-Grund, analogous work may be found +at Cravagliana, half-way between Varallo and Fobello, but this last +has suffered through the inveterate habit which Italians have of +showing their hatred towards the enemies of Christ by mutilating the +figures that represent them. Whether the Saas work is by a +Valsesian artist who came over to Switzerland, or whether the +Cravagliana work is by a Swiss who had come to Italy, I cannot say +without further consideration and closer examination than I have +been able to give. The altar-pieces of Mairengo, Chiggiogna, and, I +am told, Lavertezzo, all in the Canton Ticino, are by a Swiss or +German artist who has migrated southward; but the reverse migration +was equally common. + +Being in the neighbourhood, and wishing to assure myself whether the +sculptor of the Saas-Fee chapels had or had not come lower down the +valley, I examined every church and village which I could hear of as +containing anything that might throw light on this point. I was +thus led to Vispertimenen, a village some three hours above either +Visp or Stalden. It stands very high, and is an almost untouched +example of a medieval village. The altar-piece of the main church +is even more floridly ambitious in its abundance of carving and +gilding than the many other ambitious altar-pieces with which the +Canton Valais abounds. The Apostles are receiving the Holy Ghost on +the first storey of the composition, and they certainly are +receiving it with an overjoyed alacrity and hilarious ecstasy of +allegria spirituale which it would not be easy to surpass. Above +the village, reaching almost to the limits beyond which there is no +cultivation, there stands a series of chapels like those I have been +describing at Saas-Fee, only much larger and more ambitious. They +are twelve in number, including the church that crowns the series. +The figures they contain are of wood (so I was assured, but I did +not go inside the chapels): they are life-size, and in some chapels +there are as many as a dozen figures. I should think they belonged +to the later half of the last century, and here, one would say, +sculpture touches the ground; at least, it is not easy to see how +cheap exaggeration can sink an art more deeply. The only things +that at all pleased me were a smiling donkey and an ecstatic cow in +the Nativity chapel. Those who are not allured by the prospect of +seeing perhaps the very worst that can be done in its own line, need +not be at the pains of climbing up to Vispertimenen. Those, on the +other hand, who may find this sufficient inducement will not be +disappointed, and they will enjoy magnificent views of the Weisshorn +and the mountains near the Dom. + +I have already referred to the triptych at Gliss. This is figured +in Wolf's work on Chamonix and the Canton Valais, but a larger and +clearer reproduction of such an extraordinary work is greatly to be +desired. The small wooden statues above the triptych, as also those +above its modern companion in the south transept, are not less +admirable than the triptych itself. I know of no other like work in +wood, and have no clue whatever as to who the author can have been +beyond the fact that the work is purely German and eminently +Holbeinesque in character. + +I was told of some chapels at Rarogne, five or six miles lower down +the valley than Visp. I examined them, and found they had been +stripped of their figures. The few that remained satisfied me that +we have had no loss. Above Brieg there are two other like series of +chapels. I examined the higher and more promising of the two, but +found not one single figure left. I was told by my driver that the +other series, close to the Pont Napoleon on the Simplon road, had +been also stripped of its figures, and, there being a heavy storm at +the time, have taken his word for it that this was so. + + + +THOUGHT AND LANGUAGE {16} + + + +Three well-known writers, Professor Max Muller, Professor Mivart, +and Mr. Alfred Russel Wallace have lately maintained that though the +theory of descent with modification accounts for the development of +all vegetable life, and of all animals lower than man, yet that man +cannot--not at least in respect of the whole of his nature--be held +to have descended from any animal lower than himself, inasmuch as +none lower than man possesses even the germs of language. Reason, +it is contended--more especially by Professor Max Muller in his +"Science of Thought," to which I propose confining our attention +this evening--is so inseparably connected with language, that the +two are in point of fact identical; hence it is argued that, as the +lower animals have no germs of language, they can have no germs of +reason, and the inference is drawn that man cannot be conceived as +having derived his own reasoning powers and command of language +through descent from beings in which no germ of either can be found. +The relations therefore between thought and language, interesting in +themselves, acquire additional importance from the fact of their +having become the battle-ground between those who say that the +theory of descent breaks down with man, and those who maintain that +we are descended from some ape-like ancestor long since extinct. + +The contention of those who refuse to admit man unreservedly into +the scheme of evolution is comparatively recent. The great +propounders of evolution, Buffon, Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck--not to +mention a score of others who wrote at the close of the last and +early part of this present century--had no qualms about admitting +man into their system. They have been followed in this respect by +the late Mr. Charles Darwin, and by the greatly more influential +part of our modern biologists, who hold that whatever loss of +dignity we may incur through being proved to be of humble origin, is +compensated by the credit we may claim for having advanced ourselves +to such a high pitch of civilisation; this bids us expect still +further progress, and glorifies our descendants more than it abases +our ancestors. But to whichever view we may incline on sentimental +grounds the fact remains that, while Charles Darwin declared +language to form no impassable barrier between man and the lower +animals, Professor Max Muller calls it the Rubicon which no brute +dare cross, and deduces hence the conclusion that man cannot have +descended from an unknown but certainly speechless ape. + +It may perhaps be expected that I should begin a lecture on the +relations between thought and language with some definition of both +these things; but thought, as Sir William Grove said of motion, is a +phenomenon "so obvious to simple apprehension, that to define it +would make it more obscure." {17} Definitions are useful where +things are new to us, but they are superfluous about those that are +already familiar, and mischievous, so far as they are possible at +all, in respect of all those things that enter so profoundly and +intimately into our being that in them we must either live or bear +no life. To vivisect the more vital processes of thought is to +suspend, if not to destroy them; for thought can think about +everything more healthily and easily than about itself. It is like +its instrument the brain, which knows nothing of any injuries +inflicted upon itself. As regards what is new to us, a definition +will sometimes dilute a difficulty, and help us to swallow that +which might choke us undiluted; but to define when we have once well +swallowed is to unsettle, rather than settle, our digestion. +Definitions, again, are like steps cut in a steep slope of ice, or +shells thrown on to a greasy pavement; they give us foothold, and +enable us to advance, but when we are at our journey's end we want +them no longer. Again, they are useful as mental fluxes, and as +helping us to fuse new ideas with our older ones. They present us +with some tags and ends of ideas that we have already mastered, on +to which we can hitch our new ones; but to multiply them in respect +of such a matter as thought, is like scratching the bite of a gnat; +the more we scratch the more we want to scratch; the more we define +the more we shall have to go on defining the words we have used in +our definitions, and shall end by setting up a serious mental raw in +the place of a small uneasiness that was after all quite endurable. +We know too well what thought is, to be able to know that we know +it, and I am persuaded there is no one in this room but understands +what is meant by thought and thinking well enough for all the +purposes of this discussion. Whoever does not know this without +words will not learn it for all the words and definitions that are +laid before him. The more, indeed, he hears, the more confused he +will become. I shall, therefore, merely premise that I use the word +"thought" in the same sense as that in which it is generally used by +people who say that they think this or that. At any rate, it will +be enough if I take Professor Max Muller's own definition, and say +that its essence consists in a bringing together of mental images +and ideas with deductions therefrom, and with a corresponding power +of detaching them from one another. Hobbes, the Professor tells us, +maintained this long ago, when he said that all our thinking +consists of addition and subtraction--that is to say, in bringing +ideas together, and in detaching them from one another. + +Turning from thought to language, we observe that the word is +derived from the French langue, or tongue. Strictly, therefore, it +means tonguage. This, however, takes account of but a very small +part of the ideas that underlie the word. It does, indeed, seize a +familiar and important detail of everyday speech, though it may be +doubted whether the tongue has more to do with speaking than lips, +teeth and throat have, but it makes no attempt at grasping and +expressing the essential characteristic of speech. Anything done +with the tongue, even though it involve no speaking at all, is +tonguage; eating oranges is as much tonguage as speech is. The +word, therefore, though it tells us in part how speech is effected, +reveals nothing of that ulterior meaning which is nevertheless +inseparable from any right use of the words either "speech" or +"language." It presents us with what is indeed a very frequent +adjunct of conversation, but the use of written characters, or the +finger-speech of deaf mutes, is enough to show that the word +"language" omits all reference to the most essential characteristics +of the idea, which in practice it nevertheless very sufficiently +presents to us. I hope presently to make it clear to you how and +why it should do so. The word is incomplete in the first place, +because it omits all reference to the ideas which words, speech or +language are intended to convey, and there can be no true word +without its actually or potentially conveying an idea. Secondly, it +makes no allusion to the person or persons to whom the ideas are to +be conveyed. Language is not language unless it not only expresses +fairly definite and coherent ideas, but unless it also conveys these +ideas to some other living intelligent being, either man or brute, +that can understand them. We may speak to a dog or horse, but not +to a stone. If we make pretence of doing so we are in reality only +talking to ourselves. The person or animal spoken to is half the +battle--a half, moreover, which is essential to there being any +battle at all. It takes two people to say a thing--a sayee as well +as a sayer. The one is as essential to any true saying as the +other. A. may have spoken, but if B. has not heard, there has been +nothing said, and he must speak again. True, the belief on A.'s +part that he had a bona fide sayee in B., saves his speech qua him, +but it has been barren and left no fertile issue. It has failed to +fulfil the conditions of true speech, which involve not only that A. +should speak, but also that B. should hear. True, again, we often +speak of loose, incoherent, indefinite language; but by doing so we +imply, and rightly, that we are calling that language which is not +true language at all. People, again, sometimes talk to themselves +without intending that any other person should hear them, but this +is not well done, and does harm to those who practise it. It is +abnormal, whereas our concern is with normal and essential +characteristics; we may, therefore, neglect both delirious +babblings, and the cases in which a person is regarding him or +herself, as it were, from outside, and treating himself as though he +were some one else. + +Inquiring, then, what are the essentials, the presence of which +constitutes language, while their absence negatives it altogether, +we find that Professor Max Muller restricts them to the use of +grammatical articulate words that we can write or speak, and denies +that anything can be called language unless it can be written or +spoken in articulate words and sentences. He also denies that we +can think at all unless we do so in words; that is to say, in +sentences with verbs and nouns. Indeed he goes so far as to say +upon his title-page that there can be no reason--which I imagine +comes to much the same thing as thought--without language, and no +language without reason. + +Against the assertion that there can be no true language without +reason I have nothing to say. But when the Professor says that +there can be no reason, or thought, without language, his opponents +contend, as it seems to me, with greater force, that thought, though +infinitely aided, extended and rendered definite through the +invention of words, nevertheless existed so fully as to deserve no +other name thousands, if not millions of years before words had +entered into it at all. Words, they say, are a comparatively recent +invention, for the fuller expression of something that was already +in existence. + +Children, they urge, are often evidently thinking and reasoning, +though they can neither think nor speak in words. If you ask me to +define reason, I answer as before that this can no more be done than +thought, truth or motion can be defined. Who has answered the +question, "What is truth?" Man cannot see God and live. We cannot +go so far back upon ourselves as to undermine our own foundations; +if we try to do we topple over, and lose that very reason about +which we vainly try to reason. If we let the foundations be, we +know well enough that they are there, and we can build upon them in +all security. We cannot, then, define reason nor crib, cabin and +confine it within a thus-far-shalt-thou-go-and-no-further. Who can +define heat or cold, or night or day? Yet, so long as we hold fast +by current consent, our chances of error for want of better +definition are so small that no sensible person will consider them. +In like manner, if we hold by current consent or common sense, which +is the same thing, about reason, we shall not find the want of an +academic definition hinder us from a reasonable conclusion. What +nurse or mother will doubt that her infant child can reason within +the limits of its own experience, long before it can formulate its +reason in articulately worded thought? If the development of any +given animal is, as our opponents themselves admit, an epitome of +the history of its whole anterior development, surely the fact that +speech is an accomplishment acquired after birth so artificially +that children who have gone wild in the woods lose it if they have +ever learned it, points to the conclusion that man's ancestors only +learned to express themselves in articulate language at a +comparatively recent period. Granted that they learn to think and +reason continually the more and more fully for having done so, will +common sense permit us to suppose that they could neither think nor +reason at all till they could convey their ideas in words? + +I will return later to the reason of the lower animals, but will now +deal with the question what it is that constitutes language in the +most comprehensive sense that can be properly attached to it. I +have said already that language to be language at all must not only +convey fairly definite coherent ideas, but must also convey them to +another living being. Whenever two living beings have conveyed and +received ideas, there has been language, whether looks or gestures +or words spoken or written have been the vehicle by means of which +the ideas have travelled. Some ideas crawl, some run, some fly; and +in this case words are the wings they fly with, but they are only +the wings of thought or of ideas, they are not the thought or ideas +themselves, nor yet, as Professor Max Muller would have it, +inseparably connected with them. Last summer I was at an inn in +Sicily, where there was a deaf and dumb waiter; he had been born so, +and could neither write nor read. What had he to do with words or +words with him? Are we to say, then, that this most active, amiable +and intelligent fellow could neither think nor reason? One day I +had had my dinner and had left the hotel. A friend came in, and the +waiter saw him look for me in the place I generally occupied. He +instantly came up to my friend, and moved his two forefingers in a +way that suggested two people going about together, this meant "your +friend"; he then moved his forefingers horizontally across his eyes, +this meant, "who wears divided spectacles"; he made two fierce marks +over the sockets of his eyes, this meant, "with the heavy eyebrows"; +he pulled his chin, and then touched his white shirt, to say that my +beard was white. Having thus identified me as a friend of the +person he was speaking to, and as having a white beard, heavy +eyebrows, and wearing divided spectacles, he made a munching +movement with his jaws to say that I had had my dinner; and finally, +by making two fingers imitate walking on the table, he explained +that I had gone away. My friend, however, wanted to know how long I +had been gone, so he pulled out his watch and looked inquiringly. +The man at once slapped himself on the back, and held up the five +fingers of one hand, to say it was five minutes ago. All this was +done as rapidly as though it had been said in words; and my friend, +who knew the man well, understood without a moment's hesitation. +Are we to say that this man had no thought, nor reason, nor +language, merely because he had not a single word of any kind in his +head, which I am assured he had not; for, as I have said, he could +not speak with his fingers? Is it possible to deny that a dialogue- +-an intelligent conversation--had passed between the two men? And +if conversation, then surely it is technical and pedantic to deny +that all the essential elements of language were present. The signs +and tokens used by this poor fellow were as rude an instrument of +expression, in comparison with ordinary language, as going on one's +hands and knees is in comparison with walking, or as walking +compared with going by train; but it is as great an abuse of words +to limit the word "language" to mere words written or spoken, as it +would be to limit the idea of a locomotive to a railway engine. +This may indeed pass in ordinary conversation, where so much must be +suppressed if talk is to be got through at all, but it is +intolerable when we are inquiring about the relations between +thought and words. To do so is to let words become as it were the +masters of thought, on the ground that the fact of their being only +its servants and appendages is so obvious that it is generally +allowed to go without saying. + +If all that Professor Max Muller means to say is, that no animal but +man commands an articulate language, with verbs and nouns, or is +ever likely to command one (and I question whether in reality he +means much more than this), no one will differ from him. No dog or +elephant has one word for bread, another for meat, and another for +water. Yet, when we watch a cat or dog dreaming, as they often +evidently do, can we doubt that the dream is accompanied by a mental +image of the thing that is dreamed of, much like what we experience +in dreams ourselves, and much doubtless like the mental images which +must have passed through the mind of my deaf and dumb waiter? If +they have mental images in sleep, can we doubt that waking, also, +they picture things before their mind's eyes, and see them much as +we do--too vaguely indeed to admit of our thinking that we actually +see the objects themselves, but definitely enough for us to be able +to recognise the idea or object of which we are thinking, and to +connect it with any other idea, object, or sign that we may think +appropriate? + +Here we have touched on the second essential element of language. +We laid it down, that its essence lay in the communication of an +idea from one intelligent being to another; but no ideas can be +communicated at all except by the aid of conventions to which both +parties have agreed to attach an identical meaning. The agreement +may be very informal, and may pass so unconsciously from one +generation to another that its existence can only be recognised by +the aid of much introspection, but it will be always there. A +sayer, a sayee, and a convention, no matter what, agreed upon +between them as inseparably attached to the idea which it is +intended to convey--these comprise all the essentials of language. +Where these are present there is language; where any of them are +wanting there is no language. It is not necessary for the sayee to +be able to speak and become a sayer. If he comprehends the sayer-- +that is to say, if he attaches the same meaning to a certain symbol +as the sayer does--if he is a party to the bargain whereby it is +agreed upon by both that any given symbol shall be attached +invariably to a certain idea, so that in virtue of the principle of +associated ideas the symbol shall never be present without +immediately carrying the idea along with it, then all the essentials +of language are complied with, and there has been true speech though +never a word was spoken. + +The lower animals, therefore, many of them, possess a part of our +own language, though they cannot speak it, and hence do not possess +it so fully as we do. They cannot say "bread," "meat," or "water," +but there are many that readily learn what ideas they ought to +attach to these symbols when they are presented to them. It is idle +to say that a cat does not know what the cat's-meat man means when +he says "meat." The cat knows just as well, neither better nor +worse than the cat's-meat man does, and a great deal better than I +myself understand much that is said by some very clever people at +Oxford or Cambridge. There is more true employment of language, +more bona fide currency of speech, between a sayer and a sayee who +understand each other, though neither of them can speak a word, than +between a sayer who can speak with the tongues of men and of angels +without being clear about his own meaning, and a sayee who can +himself utter the same words, but who is only in imperfect agreement +with the sayer as to the ideas which the words or symbols that he +utters are intended to convey. The nature of the symbols counts for +nothing; the gist of the matter is in the perfect harmony between +sayer and sayee as to the significance that is to be associated with +them. + +Professor Max Muller admits that we share with the lower animals +what he calls an emotional language, and continues that we may call +their interjections and imitations language if we like, as we speak +of the language of the eyes or the eloquence of mute nature, but he +warns us against mistaking metaphor for fact. It is indeed mere +metaphor to talk of the eloquence of mute nature, or the language of +winds and waves. There is no intercommunion of mind with mind by +means of a covenanted symbol; but it is only an apparent, not a +real, metaphor to say that two pairs of eyes have spoken when they +have signalled to one another something which they both understand. +A schoolboy at home for the holidays wants another plate of pudding, +and does not like to apply officially for more. He catches the +servant's eye and looks at the pudding; the servant understands, +takes his plate without a word, and gets him some. Is it metaphor +to say that the boy asked the servant to do this, or is it not +rather pedantry to insist on the letter of a bond and deny its +spirit, by denying that language passed, on the ground that the +symbols covenanted upon and assented to by both were uttered and +received by eyes and not by mouth and ears? When the lady drank to +the gentleman only with her eyes, and he pledged with his, was there +no conversation because there was neither noun nor verb? Eyes are +verbs, and glasses of wine are good nouns enough as between those +who understand one another. Whether the ideas underlying them are +expressed and conveyed by eyeage or by tonguage is a detail that +matters nothing. + +But everything we say is metaphorical if we choose to be captious. +Scratch the simplest expressions, and you will find the metaphor. +Written words are handage, inkage and paperage; it is only by +metaphor, or substitution and transposition of ideas, that we can +call them language. They are indeed potential language, and the +symbols employed presuppose nouns, verbs, and the other parts of +speech; but for the most part it is in what we read between the +lines that the profounder meaning of any letter is conveyed. There +are words unwritten and untranslatable into any nouns that are +nevertheless felt as above, about and underneath the gross material +symbols that lie scrawled upon the paper; and the deeper the feeling +with which anything is written the more pregnant will it be of +meaning which can be conveyed securely enough, but which loses +rather than gains if it is squeezed into a sentence, and limited by +the parts of speech. The language is not in the words but in the +heart-to-heartness of the thing, which is helped by words, but is +nearer and farther than they. A correspondent wrote to me once, +many years ago, "If I could think to you without words you would +understand me better." But surely in this he was thinking to me, +and without words, and I did understand him better . . . So it is +not by the words that I am too presumptuously venturing to speak to- +night that your opinions will be formed or modified. They will be +formed or modified, if either, by something that you will feel, but +which I have not spoken, to the full as much as by anything that I +have actually uttered. You may say that this borders on mysticism. +Perhaps it does, but their really is some mysticism in nature. + +To return, however, to terra firma. I believe I am right in saying +that the essence of language lies in the intentional conveyance of +ideas from one living being to another through the instrumentality +of arbitrary tokens or symbols agreed upon, and understood by both +as being associated with the particular ideas in question. The +nature of the symbol chosen is a matter of indifference; it may be +anything that appeals to human senses, and is not too hot or too +heavy; the essence of the matter lies in a mutual covenant that +whatever it is it shall stand invariably for the same thing, or +nearly so. + +We shall see this more easily if we observe the differences between +written and spoken language. The written word "stone," and the +spoken word, are each of them symbols arrived at in the first +instance arbitrarily. They are neither of them more like the other +than they are to the idea of a stone which rises before our minds, +when we either see or hear the word, or than this idea again is like +the actual stone itself, but nevertheless the spoken symbol and the +written one each alike convey with certainty the combination of +ideas to which we have agreed to attach them. + +The written symbol is formed with the hand, appeals to the eye, +leaves a material trace as long as paper and ink last, can travel as +far as paper and ink can travel, and can be imprinted on eye after +eye practically ad infinitum both as regards time and space. + +The spoken symbol is formed by means of various organs in or about +the mouth, appeals to the ear, not the eye, perishes instantly +without material trace, and if it lives at all does so only in the +minds of those who heard it. The range of its action is no wider +than that within which a voice can be heard; and every time a fresh +impression is wanted the type must be set up anew. + +The written symbol extends infinitely, as regards time and space, +the range within which one mind can communicate with another; it +gives the writer's mind a life limited by the duration of ink, +paper, and readers, as against that of his flesh and blood body. On +the other hand, it takes longer to learn the rules so as to be able +to apply them with ease and security, and even then they cannot be +applied so quickly and easily as those attaching to spoken symbols. +Moreover, the spoken symbol admits of a hundred quick and subtle +adjuncts by way of action, tone and expression, so that no one will +use written symbols unless either for the special advantages of +permanence and travelling power, or because he is incapacitated from +using spoken ones. This, however, is hardly to the point; the point +is that these two conventional combinations of symbols, that are as +unlike one another as the Hallelujah Chorus is to St. Paul's +Cathedral, are the one as much language as the other; and we +therefore inquire what this very patent fact reveals to us about the +more essential characteristics of language itself. What is the +common bond that unites these two classes of symbols that seem at +first sight to have nothing in common, and makes the one raise the +idea of language in our minds as readily as the other? The bond +lies in the fact that both are a set of conventional tokens or +symbols, agreed upon between the parties to whom they appeal as +being attached invariably to the same ideas, and because they are +being made as a means of communion between one mind and another,-- +for a memorandum made for a person's own later use is nothing but a +communication from an earlier mind to a later and modified one; it +is therefore in reality a communication from one mind to another as +much as though it had been addressed to another person. + +We see, therefore, that the nature of the outward and visible sign +to which the inward and spiritual idea of language is attached does +not matter. It may be the firing of a gun; it may be an old +semaphore telegraph; it may be the movements of a needle; a look, a +gesture, the breaking of a twig by an Indian to tell some one that +he has passed that way: a twig broken designedly with this end in +view is a letter addressed to whomsoever it may concern, as much as +though it had been written out in full on bark or paper. It does +not matter one straw what it is, provided it is agreed upon in +concert, and stuck to. Just as the lowest forms of life +nevertheless present us with all the essential characteristics of +livingness, and are as much alive in their own humble way as the +most highly developed organisms, so the rudest intentional and +effectual communication between two minds through the +instrumentality of a concerted symbol is as much language as the +most finished oratory of Mr. Gladstone. I demur therefore to the +assertion that the lower animals have no language, inasmuch as they +cannot themselves articulate a grammatical sentence. I do not +indeed pretend that when the cat calls upon the tiles it uses what +it consciously and introspectively recognises as language; it says +what it has to say without introspection, and in the ordinary course +of business, as one of the common forms of courtship. It no more +knows that it has been using language than M. Jourdain knew he had +been speaking prose, but M. Jourdain's knowing or not knowing was +neither here nor there. + +Anything which can be made to hitch on invariably to a definite idea +that can carry some distance--say an inch at the least, and which +can be repeated at pleasure, can be pressed into the service of +language. Mrs. Bentley, wife of the famous Dr. Bentley of Trinity +College, Cambridge, used to send her snuff-box to the college +buttery when she wanted beer, instead of a written order. If the +snuff-box came the beer was sent, but if there was no snuff-box +there was no beer. Wherein did the snuff-box differ more from a +written order, than a written order differs from a spoken one? The +snuff-box was for the time being language. It sounds strange to say +that one might take a pinch of snuff out of a sentence, but if the +servant had helped him or herself to a pinch while carrying it to +the buttery this is what would have been done; for if a snuff-box +can say "Send me a quart of beer," so efficiently that the beer is +sent, it is impossible to say that it is not a bona fide sentence. +As for the recipient of the message, the butler did not probably +translate the snuff-box into articulate nouns and verbs; as soon as +he saw it he just went down into the cellar and drew the beer, and +if he thought at all, it was probably about something else. Yet he +must have been thinking without words, or he would have drawn too +much beer or too little, or have spilt it in the bringing it up, and +we may be sure that he did none of these things. + +You will, of course, observe that if Mrs. Bentley had sent the +snuff-box to the buttery of St. John's College instead of Trinity, +it would not have been language, for there would have been no +covenant between sayer and sayee as to what the symbol should +represent, there would have been no previously established +association of ideas in the mind of the butler of St. John's between +beer and snuff-box; the connection was artificial, arbitrary, and by +no means one of those in respect of which an impromptu bargain might +be proposed by the very symbol itself, and assented to without +previous formality by the person to whom it was presented. More +briefly, the butler of St. John's would not have been able to +understand and read it aright. It would have been a dead letter to +him--a snuff-box and not a letter; whereas to the butler of Trinity +it was a letter and not a snuff-box. + +You will also note that it was only at the moment when he was +looking at it and accepting it as a message that it flashed forth +from snuff-box-hood into the light and life of living utterance. As +soon as it had kindled the butler into sending a single quart of +beer, its force was spent until Mrs. Bentley threw her soul into it +again and charged it anew by wanting more beer, and sending it down +accordingly. + +Again, take the ring which the Earl of Essex sent to Queen +Elizabeth, but which the queen did not receive. This was intended +as a sentence, but failed to become effectual language because the +sensible material symbol never reached those sentient organs which +it was intended to affect. A book, again, however full of excellent +words it may be, is not language when it is merely standing on a +bookshelf. It speaks to no one, unless when being actually read, or +quoted from by an act of memory. It is potential language as a +lucifer-match is potential fire, but it is no more language till it +is in contact with a recipient mind, than a match is fire till it is +struck, and is being consumed. + +A piece of music, again, without any words at all, or a song with +words that have nothing in the world to do with the ideas which it +is nevertheless made to convey, is often very effectual language. +Much lying, and all irony depends on tampering with covenanted +symbols, and making those that are usually associated with one set +of ideas convey by a sleight of mind others of a different nature. +That is why irony is intolerably fatiguing unless very sparingly +used. Take the song which Blondel sang under the window of King +Richard's prison. There was not one syllable in it to say that +Blondel was there, and was going to help the king to get out of +prison. It was about some silly love affair, but it was a letter +all the same, and the king made language of what would otherwise +have been no language, by guessing the meaning, that is to say by +perceiving that he was expected to enter then and there into a new +covenant as to the meaning of the symbols that were presented to +him, understanding what this covenant was to be, and acquiescing in +it. + +On the other hand, no ingenuity can torture language into being a +fit word to use in connection with either sounds or any other +symbols that have not been intended to convey a meaning, or again in +connection with either sounds or symbols in respect of which there +has been no covenant between sayer and sayee. When we hear people +speaking a foreign language--we will say Welsh--we feel that though +they are no doubt using what is very good language as between +themselves, there is no language whatever as far as we are +concerned. We call it lingo, not language. The Chinese letters on +a tea-chest might as well not be there, for all that they say to us, +though the Chinese find them very much to the purpose. They are a +covenant to which we have been no parties--to which our intelligence +has affixed no signature. + +We have already seen that it is in virtue of such an understood +covenant that symbols so unlike one another as the written word +"stone" and the spoken word alike at once raise the idea of a stone +in our minds. See how the same holds good as regards the different +languages that pass current in different nations. The letters p, i, +e, r, r, e convey the idea of a stone to a Frenchman as readily as +s, t, o, n, e do to ourselves. And why? because that is the +covenant that has been struck between those who speak and those who +are spoken to. Our "stone" conveys no idea to a Frenchman, nor his +"pierre" to us, unless we have done what is commonly called +acquiring one another's language. To acquire a foreign language is +only to learn and adhere to the covenants in respect of symbols +which the nation in question has adopted and adheres to. + +Till we have done this we neither of us know the rules, so to speak, +of the game that the other is playing, and cannot, therefore, play +together; but the convention being once known and assented to, it +does not matter whether we raise the idea of a stone by the word +"lapis," or by "lithos," "pietra," "pierre," "stein," "stane" or +"stone"; we may choose what symbols written or spoken we choose, and +one set, unless they are of unwieldy length will do as well as +another, if we can get other people to choose the same and stick to +them; it is the accepting and sticking to them that matters, not the +symbols. The whole power of spoken language is vested in the +invariableness with which certain symbols are associated with +certain ideas. If we are strict in always connecting the same +symbols with the same ideas, we speak well, keep our meaning clear +to ourselves, and convey it readily and accurately to any one who is +also fairly strict. If, on the other hand, we use the same +combination of symbols for one thing one day and for another the +next, we abuse our symbols instead of using them, and those who +indulge in slovenly habits in this respect ere long lose the power +alike of thinking and of expressing themselves correctly. The +symbols, however, in the first instance, may be anything in the wide +world that we have a fancy for. They have no more to do with the +ideas they serve to convey than money has with the things that it +serves to buy. + +The principle of association, as every one knows, involves that +whenever two things have been associated sufficiently together, the +suggestion of one of them to the mind shall immediately raise a +suggestion of the other. It is in virtue of this principle that +language, as we so call it, exists at all, for the essence of +language consists, as I have said perhaps already too often, in the +fixity with which certain ideas are invariably connected with +certain symbols. But this being so, it is hard to see how we can +deny that the lower animals possess the germs of a highly rude and +unspecialised, but still true language, unless we also deny that +they have any ideas at all; and this I gather is what Professor Max +Muller in a quiet way rather wishes to do. Thus he says, "It is +easy enough to show that animals communicate, but this is a fact +which has never been doubted. Dogs who growl and bark leave no +doubt in the minds of other dogs or cats, or even of man, of what +they mean, but growling and barking are not language, nor do they +even contain the elements of language." {18} + +I observe the Professor says that animals communicate without saying +what it is that they communicate. I believe this to have been +because if he said that the lower animals communicate their ideas, +this would be to admit that they have ideas; if so, and if, as they +present every appearance of doing, they can remember, reflect upon, +modify these ideas according to modified surroundings, and +interchange them with one another, how is it possible to deny them +the germs of thought, language, and reason--not to say a good deal +more than the germs? It seems to me that not knowing what else to +say that animals communicated if it was not ideas, and not knowing +what mess he might not get into if he admitted that they had ideas +at all, he thought it safer to omit his accusative case altogether. + +That growling and barking cannot be called a very highly specialised +language goes without saying; they are, however, so much diversified +in character, according to circumstances, that they place a +considerable number of symbols at an animal's command, and he +invariably attaches the same symbol to the same idea. A cat never +purrs when she is angry, nor spits when she is pleased. When she +rubs her head against any one affectionately it is her symbol for +saying that she is very fond of him, and she expects, and usually +finds that it will be understood. If she sees her mistress raise +her hand as though to pretend to strike her, she knows that it is +the symbol her mistress invariably attaches to the idea of sending +her away, and as such she accepts it. Granted that the symbols in +use among the lower animals are fewer and less highly differentiated +than in the case of any known human language, and therefore that +animal language is incomparably less subtle and less capable of +expressing delicate shades of meaning than our own, these +differences are nevertheless only those that exist between highly +developed and inchoate language; they do not involve those that +distinguish language from no language. They are the differences +between the undifferentiated protoplasm of the amoeba and our own +complex organisation; they are not the differences between life and +no life. In animal language as much as in human there is a mind +intentionally making use of a symbol accepted by another mind as +invariably attached to a certain idea, in order to produce that idea +in the mind which it is desired to affect--more briefly, there is a +sayer, a sayee, and a covenanted symbol designedly applied. Our own +speech is vertebrated and articulated by means of nouns, verbs, and +the rules of grammar. A dog's speech is invertebrate, but I do not +see how it is possible to deny that it possesses all the essential +elements of language. + +I have said nothing about Professor R. L. Garner's researches into +the language of apes, because they have not yet been so far verified +and accepted as to make it safe to rely upon them; but when he lays +it down that all voluntary sounds are the products of thought, and +that, if they convey a meaning to another, they perform the +functions of human speech, he says what I believe will commend +itself to any unsophisticated mind. I could have wished, however, +that he had not limited himself to sounds, and should have preferred +his saying what I doubt not he would readily accept--I mean, that +all symbols or tokens of whatever kind, if voluntarily adopted as +such, are the products of thought, and perform the functions of +human speech; but I cannot too often remind you that nothing can be +considered as fulfilling the conditions of language, except a +voluntary application of a recognised token in order to convey a +more or less definite meaning, with the intention doubtless of thus +purchasing as it were some other desired meaning and consequent +sensation. It is astonishing how closely in this respect money and +words resemble one another. Money indeed may be considered as the +most universal and expressive of all languages. For gold and silver +coins are no more money when not in the actual process of being +voluntarily used in purchase, than words not so in use are language. +Pounds, shillings and pence are recognised covenanted tokens, the +outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual purchasing +power, but till in actual use they are only potential money, as the +symbols of language, whatever they may be, are only potential +language till they are passing between two minds. It is the power +and will to apply the symbols that alone gives life to money, and as +long as these are in abeyance the money is in abeyance also; the +coins may be safe in one's pocket, but they are as dead as a log +till they begin to burn in it, and so are our words till they begin +to burn within us. + +The real question, however, as to the substantial underlying +identity between the language of the lower animals and our own, +turns upon that other question whether or no, in spite of an +immeasurable difference of degree, the thought and reason of man and +of the lower animals is essentially the same. No one will expect a +dog to master and express the varied ideas that are incessantly +arising in connection with human affairs. He is a pauper as against +a millionaire. To ask him to do so would be like giving a street- +boy sixpence and telling him to go and buy himself a founder's share +in the New River Company. He would not even know what was meant, +and even if he did it would take several millions of sixpences to +buy one. It is astonishing what a clever workman will do with very +modest tools, or again how far a thrifty housewife will make a very +small sum of money go, or again in like manner how many ideas an +intelligent brute can receive and convey with its very limited +vocabulary; but no one will pretend that a dog's intelligence can +ever reach the level of a man's. What we do maintain is that, +within its own limited range, it is of the same essential character +as our own, and that though a dog's ideas in respect of human +affairs are both vague and narrow, yet in respect of canine affairs +they are precise enough and extensive enough to deserve no other +name than thought or reason. We hold moreover that they communicate +their ideas in essentially the same manner as we do--that is to say, +by the instrumentality of a code of symbols attached to certain +states of mind and material objects, in the first instance +arbitrarily, but so persistently, that the presentation of the +symbol immediately carries with it the idea which it is intended to +convey. Animals can thus receive and impart ideas on all that most +concerns them. As my great namesake said some two hundred years +ago, they know "what's what, and that's as high as metaphysic wit +can fly." And they not only know what's what themselves, but can +impart to one another any new what's-whatness that they may have +acquired, for they are notoriously able to instruct and correct one +another. + +Against this Professor Max Muller contends that we can know nothing +of what goes on in the mind of any lower animal, inasmuch as we are +not lower animals ourselves. "We can imagine anything we like about +what passes in the mind of an animal," he writes, "we can know +absolutely nothing." {19} It is something to have it in evidence +that he conceives animals as having a mind at all, but it is not +easy to see how they can be supposed to have a mind, without being +able to acquire ideas, and having acquired, to read, mark, learn, +and inwardly digest them. Surely the mistake of requiring too much +evidence is hardly less great than that of being contented with too +little. We, too, are animals, and can no more refuse to infer +reason from certain visible actions in their case than we can in our +own. If Professor Max Muller's plea were allowed, we should have to +deny our right to infer confidently what passes in the mind of any +one not ourselves, inasmuch as we are not that person. We never, +indeed, can obtain irrefragable certainty about this or any other +matter, but we can be sure enough in many cases to warrant our +staking all that is most precious to us on the soundness of our +opinion. Moreover, if the Professor denies our right to infer that +animals reason, on the ground that we are not animals enough +ourselves to be able to form an opinion, with what right does he +infer so confidently himself that they do not reason? And how, if +they present every one of those appearances which we are accustomed +to connect with the communication of an idea from one mind to +another, can we deny that they have a language of their own, though +it is one which in most cases we can neither speak nor understand? +How can we say that a sentinel rook, when it sees a man with a gun +and warns the other rooks by a concerted note which they all show +that they understand by immediately taking flight, should not be +credited both with reason and the germs of language? + +After all, a professor, whether of philology, psychology, biology, +or any other ology, is hardly the kind of person to whom we should +appeal on such an elementary question as that of animal intelligence +and language. We might as well ask a botanist to tell us whether +grass grows, or a meteorologist to tell us if it has left off +raining. If it is necessary to appeal to any one, I should prefer +the opinion of an intelligent gamekeeper to that of any professor, +however learned. The keepers, again, at the Zoological Gardens, +have exceptional opportunities for studying the minds of animals-- +modified, indeed, by captivity, but still minds of animals. Grooms, +again, and dog-fanciers, are to the full as able to form an +intelligent opinion on the reason and language of animals as any +University Professor, and so are cats'-meat men. I have repeatedly +asked gamekeepers and keepers at the Zoological Gardens whether +animals could reason and converse with one another, and have always +found myself regarded somewhat contemptuously for having even asked +the question. I once said to a friend, in the hearing of a keeper +at the Zoological Gardens, that the penguin was very stupid. The +man was furious, and jumped upon me at once. "He's not stupid at +all," said he; "he's very intelligent." + +Who has not seen a cat, when it wishes to go out, raise its fore +paws on to the handle of the door, or as near as it can get, and +look round, evidently asking some one to turn it for her? Is it +reasonable to deny that a reasoning process is going on in the cat's +mind, whereby she connects her wish with the steps necessary for its +fulfilment, and also with certain invariable symbols which she knows +her master or mistress will interpret? Once, in company with a +friend, I watched a cat playing with a house-fly in the window of a +ground-floor room. We were in the street, while the cat was inside. +When we came up to the window she gave us one searching look, and, +having satisfied herself that we had nothing for her, went on with +her game. She knew all about the glass in the window, and was sure +we could do nothing to molest her, so she treated us with absolute +contempt, never even looking at us again. + +The game was this. She was to catch the fly and roll it round and +round under her paw along the window-sill, but so gently as not to +injure it nor prevent it from being able to fly again when she had +done rolling it. It was very early spring, and flies were scarce, +in fact there was not another in the whole window. She knew that if +she crippled this one, it would not be able to amuse her further, +and that she would not readily get another instead, and she liked +the feel of it under her paw. It was soft and living, and the +quivering of its wings tickled the ball of her foot in a manner that +she found particularly grateful; so she rolled it gently along the +whole length of the window-sill. It then became the fly's turn. He +was to get up and fly about in the window, so as to recover himself +a little; then she was to catch him again, and roll him softly all +along the window-sill, as she had done before. + +It was plain that the cat knew the rules of her game perfectly well, +and enjoyed it keenly. It was equally plain that the fly could not +make head or tail of what it was all about. If it had been able to +do so it would have gone to play in the upper part of the window, +where the cat could not reach it. Perhaps it was always hoping to +get through the glass, and escape that way; anyhow, it kept pretty +much to the same pane, no matter how often it was rolled. At last, +however, the fly, for some reason or another, did not reappear on +the pane, and the cat began looking everywhere to find it. Her +annoyance when she failed to do so was extreme. It was not only +that she had lost her fly, but that she could not conceive how she +should have ever come to do so. Presently she noted a small knot in +the woodwork of the sill, and it flashed upon her that she had +accidentally killed the fly, and that this was its dead body. She +tried to move it gently with her paw, but it was no use, and for the +time she satisfied herself that the knot and the fly had nothing to +do with one another. Every now and then, however, she returned to +it as though it were the only thing she could think of, and she +would try it again. She seemed to say she was certain there had +been no knot there before--she must have seen it if there had been; +and yet, the fly could hardly have got jammed so firmly into the +wood. She was puzzled and irritated beyond measure, and kept +looking in the same place again and again, just as we do when we +have mislaid something. She was rapidly losing temper and dignity +when suddenly we saw the fly reappear from under the cat's stomach +and make for the window-pane, at the very moment when the cat +herself was exclaiming for the fiftieth time that she wondered where +that stupid fly ever could have got to. No man who has been hunting +twenty minutes for his spectacles could be more delighted when he +suddenly finds them on his own forehead. "So that's where you +were," we seemed to hear her say, as she proceeded to catch it, and +again began rolling it very softly without hurting it, under her +paw. My friend and I both noticed that the cat, in spite of her +perplexity, never so much as hinted that we were the culprits. The +question whether anything outside the window could do her good or +harm had long since been settled by her in the negative, and she was +not going to reopen it; she simply cut us dead, and though her +annoyance was so great that she was manifestly ready to lay the +blame on anybody or anything with or without reason, and though she +must have perfectly well known that we were watching the whole +affair with amusement, she never either asked us if we had happened +to see such a thing as a fly go down our way lately, or accused us +of having taken it from her--both of which ideas she would, I am +confident, have been very well able to convey to us if she had been +so minded. + +Now what are thought and reason if the processes that were going +through this cat's mind were not both one and the other? It would +be childish to suppose that the cat thought in words of its own, or +in anything like words. Its thinking was probably conducted through +the instrumentality of a series of mental images. We so habitually +think in words ourselves that we find it difficult to realise +thought without words at all; our difficulty, however, in imagining +the particular manner in which the cat thinks has nothing to do with +the matter. We must answer the question whether she thinks or no, +not according to our own ease or difficulty in understanding the +particular manner of her thinking, but according as her action does +or does not appear to be of the same character as other action that +we commonly call thoughtful. To say that the cat is not +intelligent, merely on the ground that we cannot ourselves fathom +her intelligence--this, as I have elsewhere said, is to make +intelligence mean the power of being understood, rather than the +power of understanding. This nevertheless is what, for all our +boasted intelligence, we generally do. The more we can understand +an animal's ways, the more intelligent we call it, and the less we +can understand these, the more stupid do we declare it to be. As +for plants--whose punctuality and attention to all the details and +routine of their somewhat restricted lines of business is as obvious +as it is beyond all praise--we understand the working of their minds +so little that by common consent we declare them to have no +intelligence at all. + +Before concluding I should wish to deal a little more fully with +Professor Max Muller's contention that there can be no reason +without language, and no language without reason. Surely when two +practised pugilists are fighting, parrying each other's blows, and +watching keenly for an unguarded point, they are thinking and +reasoning very subtly the whole time, without doing so in words. +The machination of their thoughts, as well as its expression, is +actual--I mean, effectuated and expressed by action and deed, not +words. They are unaware of any logical sequence of thought that +they could follow in words as passing through their minds at all. +They may perhaps think consciously in words now and again, but such +thought will be intermittent, and the main part of the fighting will +be done without any internal concomitance of articulated phrases. +Yet we cannot doubt that their action, however much we may +disapprove of it, is guided by intelligence and reason; nor should +we doubt that a reasoning process of the same character goes on in +the minds of two dogs or fighting-cocks when they are striving to +master their opponents. + +Do we think in words, again, when we wind up our watches, put on our +clothes, or eat our breakfasts? If we do, it is generally about +something else. We do these things almost as much without the help +of words as we wink or yawn, or perform any of those other actions +that we call reflex, as it would almost seem because they are done +without reflection. They are not, however, the less reasonable +because wordless. + +Even when we think we are thinking in words, we do so only in half +measure. A running accompaniment of words no doubt frequently +attends our thoughts; but, unless we are writing or speaking, this +accompaniment is of the vaguest and most fitful kind, as we often +find out when we try to write down or say what we are thinking +about, though we have a fairly definite notion of it, or fancy that +we have one, all the time. The thought is not steadily and +coherently governed by and moulded in words, nor does it steadily +govern them. Words and thought interact upon and help one another, +as any other mechanical appliances interact on and help the +invention that first hit upon them; but reason or thought, for the +most part, flies along over the heads of words, working its own +mysterious way in paths that are beyond our ken, though whether some +of our departmental personalities are as unconscious of what is +passing, as that central government is which we alone dub with the +name of "we" or "us," is a point on which I will not now touch. + +I cannot think, then, that Professor Max Muller's contention that +thought and language are identical--and he has repeatedly affirmed +this--will ever be generally accepted. Thought is no more identical +with language than feeling is identical with the nervous system. +True, we can no more feel without a nervous system than we can +discern certain minute organisms without a microscope. Destroy the +nervous system, and we destroy feeling. Destroy the microscope, and +we can no longer see the animalcules; but our sight of the +animalcules is not the microscope, though it is effectuated by means +of the microscope, and our feeling is not the nervous system, though +the nervous system is the instrument that enables us to feel. + +The nervous system is a device which living beings have gradually +perfected--I believe I may say quite truly--through the will and +power which they have derived from a fountain-head, the existence of +which we can infer, but which we can never apprehend. By the help +of this device, and in proportion as they have perfected it, living +beings feel ever with greater definiteness, and hence formulate +their feelings in thought with more and more precision. The higher +evolution of thought has reacted on the nervous system, and the +consequent higher evolution of the nervous system has again reacted +upon thought. These things are as power and desire, or supply and +demand, each one of which is continually outstripping, and being in +turn outstripped by the other; but, in spite of their close +connection and interaction, power is not desire, nor demand supply. +Language is a device evolved sometimes by leaps and bounds, and +sometimes exceedingly slowly, whereby we help ourselves alike to +greater ease, precision, and complexity of thought, and also to more +convenient interchange of thought among ourselves. Thought found +rude expression, which gradually among other forms assumed that of +words. These reacted upon thought, and thought again on them, but +thought is no more identical with words than words are with the +separate letters of which they are composed. + +To sum up, then, and to conclude. I would ask you to see the +connection between words and ideas, as in the first instance +arbitrary. No doubt in some cases an imitation of the cry of some +bird or wild beast would suggest the name that should be attached to +it; occasionally the sound of an operation such as grinding may have +influenced the choice of the letters g, r, as the root of many words +that denote a grinding, grating, grasping, crushing, action; but I +understand that the number of words due to direct imitation is +comparatively few in number, and that they have been mainly coined +as the result of connections so far-fetched and fanciful as to +amount practically to no connection at all. Once chosen, however, +they were adhered to for a considerable time among the dwellers in +any given place, so as to become acknowledged as the vulgar tongue, +and raise readily in the mind of the inhabitants of that place the +ideas with which they had been artificially associated. + +As regards our being able to think and reason without words, the +Duke of Argyll has put the matter as soundly as I have yet seen it +stated. "It seems to me," he wrote, "quite certain that we can and +do constantly think of things without thinking of any sound or word +as designating them. Language seems to me to be necessary for the +progress of thought, but not at all for the mere act of thinking. +It is a product of thought, an expression of it, a vehicle for the +communication of it, and an embodiment which is essential to its +growth and continuity; but it seems to me altogether erroneous to +regard it as an inseparable part of cogitation." + +The following passages, again, are quoted from Sir William Hamilton +in Professor Max Muller's own book, with so much approval as to lead +one to suppose that the differences between himself and his +opponents are in reality less than he believes them to be:- + +"Language," says Sir W. Hamilton, "is the attribution of signs to +our cognitions of things. But as a cognition must have already been +there before it could receive a sign, consequently that knowledge +which is denoted by the formation and application of a word must +have preceded the symbol that denotes it. A sign, however, is +necessary to give stability to our intellectual progress--to +establish each step in our advance as a new starting-point for our +advance to another beyond. A country may be overrun by an armed +host, but it is only conquered by the establishment of fortresses. +Words are the fortresses of thought. They enable us to realise our +dominion over what we have already overrun in thought; to make every +intellectual conquest the base of operations for others still +beyond." + +"This," says Professor Max Muller, "is a most happy illustration," +and he proceeds to quote the following, also from Sir William +Hamilton, which he declares to be even happier still. + +"You have all heard," says Sir William Hamilton, "of the process of +tunnelling through a sandbank. In this operation it is impossible +to succeed unless every foot, nay, almost every inch of our progress +be secured by an arch of masonry before we attempt the excavation of +another. Now language is to the mind precisely what the arch is to +the tunnel. The power of thinking and the power of excavation are +not dependent on the words in the one case or on the mason-work in +the other; but without these subsidiaries neither could be carried +on beyond its rudimentary commencement. Though, therefore, we allow +that every movement forward in language must be determined by an +antecedent movement forward in thought, still, unless thought be +accompanied at each point of its evolutions by a corresponding +evolution of language, its further development is arrested." + +Man has evolved an articulate language, whereas the lower animals +seem to be without one. Man, therefore, has far outstripped them in +reasoning faculty as well as in power of expression. This, however, +does not bar the communications which the lower animals make to one +another from possessing all the essential characteristics of +language, and as a matter of fact, wherever we can follow them we +find such communications effectuated by the aid of arbitrary symbols +covenanted upon by the living beings that wish to communicate, and +persistently associated with certain corresponding feelings, states +of mind, or material objects. Human language is nothing more than +this in principle, however much further the principle has been +carried in our own case than in that of the lower animals. + +This being admitted, we should infer that the thought or reason on +which the language of men and animals is alike founded differs as +between men and brutes in degree but not in kind. More than this +cannot be claimed on behalf of the lower animals, even by their most +enthusiastic admirer. + + + +THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM {20}--PART I + + + +It will be readily admitted that of all living writers Mr. Alfred +Russel Wallace is the one the peculiar turn of whose mind best fits +him to write on the subject of natural selection, or the +accumulation of fortunate but accidental variations through descent +and the struggle for existence. His mind in all its more essential +characteristics closely resembles that of the late Mr. Charles +Darwin himself, and it is no doubt due to this fact that he and Mr. +Darwin elaborated their famous theory at the same time, and +independently of one another. I shall have occasion in the course +of the following article to show how misled and misleading both +these distinguished men have been, in spite of their unquestionable +familiarity with the whole range of animal and vegetable phenomena. +I believe it will be more respectful to both of them to do this in +the most out-spoken way. I believe their work to have been as +mischievous as it has been valuable, and as valuable as it has been +mischievous; and higher, whether praise or blame, I know not how to +give. Nevertheless I would in the outset, and with the utmost +sincerity, admit concerning Messrs. Wallace and Darwin that neither +can be held as the more profound and conscientious thinker; neither +can be put forward as the more ready to acknowledge obligation to +the great writers on evolution who had preceded him, or to place his +own developments in closer and more conspicuous historical +connection with earlier thought upon the subject; neither is the +more ready to welcome criticism and to state his opponent's case in +the most pointed and telling way in which it can be put; neither is +the more quick to encourage new truth; neither is the more genial, +generous adversary, or has the profounder horror of anything even +approaching literary or scientific want of candour; both display the +same inimitable power of putting their opinions forward in the way +that shall best ensure their acceptance; both are equally unrivalled +in the tact that tells them when silence will be golden, and when on +the other hand a whole volume of facts may be advantageously brought +forward. Less than the foregoing tribute both to Messrs. Darwin and +Wallace I will not, and more I cannot pay. + +Let us now turn to the most authoritative exponent of latter-day +evolution--I mean to Mr. Wallace, whose work, entitled "Darwinism," +though it should have been entitled "Wallaceism," is still so far +Darwinistic that it develops the teaching of Mr. Darwin in the +direction given to it by Mr. Darwin himself--so far, indeed, as this +can be ascertained at all--and not in that of Lamarck. Mr. Wallace +tells us, on the first page of his preface, that he has no intention +of dealing even in outline with the vast subject of evolution in +general, and has only tried to give such an account of the theory of +natural selection as may facilitate a clear conception of Darwin's +work. How far he has succeeded is a point on which opinion will +probably be divided. Those who find Mr. Darwin's works clear will +also find no difficulty in understanding Mr. Wallace; those, on the +other hand, who find Mr. Darwin puzzling are little likely to be +less puzzled by Mr. Wallace. He continues:- + +"The objections now made to Darwin's theory apply solely to the +particular means by which the change of species has been brought +about, not to the fact of that change." + +But "Darwin's theory"--as Mr. Wallace has elsewhere proved that he +understands--has no reference "to the fact of that change"--that is +to say, to the fact that species have been modified in course of +descent from other species. This is no more Mr. Darwin's theory +than it is the reader's or my own. Darwin's theory is concerned +only with "the particular means by which the change of species has +been brought about"; his contention being that this is mainly due to +the natural survival of those individuals that have happened by some +accident to be born most favourably adapted to their surroundings, +or, in other words, through accumulation in the common course of +nature of the more lucky variations that chance occasionally +purveys. Mr. Wallace's words, then, in reality amount to this, that +the objections now made to Darwin's theory apply solely to Darwin's +theory, which is all very well as far as it goes, but might have +been more easily apprehended if he had simply said, "There are +several objections now made to Mr. Darwin's theory." + +It must be remembered that the passage quoted above occurs on the +first page of a preface dated March 1889, when the writer had +completed his task, and was most fully conversant with his subject. +Nevertheless, it seems indisputable either that he is still +confusing evolution with Mr. Darwin's theory, or that he does not +know when his sentences have point and when they have none. + +I should perhaps explain to some readers that Mr. Darwin did not +modify the main theory put forward, first by Buffon, to whom it +indisputably belongs, and adopted from him by Erasmus Darwin, +Lamarck, and many other writers in the latter half of the last +century and the earlier years of the present. The early +evolutionists maintained that all existing forms of animal and +vegetable life, including man, were derived in course of descent +with modification from forms resembling the lowest now known. + +Mr. Darwin went as far as this, and farther no one can go. The +point at issue between him and his predecessors involves neither the +main fact of evolution, nor yet the geometrical ratio of increase, +and the struggle for existence consequent thereon. Messrs. Darwin +and Wallace have each thrown invaluable light upon these last two +points, but Buffon, as early as 1756, had made them the keystone of +his system. "The movement of nature," he then wrote, "turns on two +immovable pivots: one, the illimitable fecundity which she has +given to all species: the other, the innumerable difficulties which +reduce the results of that fecundity." Erasmus Darwin and Lamarck +followed in the same sense. They thus admit the survival of the +fittest as fully as Mr. Darwin himself, though they do not make use +of this particular expression. The dispute turns not upon natural +selection, which is common to all writers on evolution, but upon the +nature and causes of the variations that are supposed to be selected +from and thus accumulated. Are these mainly attributable to the +inherited effects of use and disuse, supplemented by occasional +sports and happy accidents? Or are they mainly due to sports and +happy accidents, supplemented by occasional inherited effects of use +and disuse? + +The Lamarckian system has all along been maintained by Mr. Herbert +Spencer, who, in his "Principles of Biology," published in 1865, +showed how impossible it was that accidental variations should +accumulate at all. I am not sure how far Mr. Spencer would consent +to being called a Lamarckian pure and simple, nor yet how far it is +strictly accurate to call him one; nevertheless, I can see no +important difference in the main positions taken by him and by +Lamarck. + +The question at issue between the Lamarckians, supported by Mr. +Spencer and a growing band of those who have risen in rebellion +against the Charles-Darwinian system on the one hand, and Messrs. +Darwin and Wallace with the greater number of our more prominent +biologists on the other, involves the very existence of evolution as +a workable theory. For it is plain that what Nature can be supposed +able to do by way of choice must depend on the supply of the +variations from which she is supposed to choose. She cannot take +what is not offered to her; and so again she cannot be supposed able +to accumulate unless what is gained in one direction in one +generation, or series of generations, is little likely to be lost in +those that presently succeed. Now variations ascribed mainly to use +and disuse can be supposed capable of being accumulated, for use and +disuse are fairly constant for long periods among the individuals of +the same species, and often over large areas; moreover, conditions +of existence involving changes of habit, and thus of organisation, +come for the most part gradually; so that time is given during which +the organism can endeavour to adapt itself in the requisite +respects, instead of being shocked out of existence by too sudden +change. Variations, on the other hand, that are ascribed to mere +chance cannot be supposed as likely to be accumulated, for chance is +notoriously inconstant, and would not purvey the variations in +sufficiently unbroken succession, or in a sufficient number of +individuals, modified similarly in all the necessary correlations at +the same time and place to admit of their being accumulated. It is +vital therefore to the theory of evolution, as was early pointed out +by the late Professor Fleeming Jenkin and by Mr. Herbert Spencer, +that variations should be supposed to have a definite and persistent +principle underlying them, which shall tend to engender similar and +simultaneous modification, however small, in the vast majority of +individuals composing any species. The existence of such a +principle and its permanence is the only thing that can be supposed +capable of acting as rudder and compass to the accumulation of +variations, and of making it hold steadily on one course for each +species, till eventually many havens, far remote from one another, +are safely reached. + +It is obvious that the having fatally impaired the theory of his +predecessors could not warrant Mr. Darwin in claiming, as he most +fatuously did, the theory of evolution. That he is still generally +believed to have been the originator of this theory is due to the +fact that he claimed it, and that a powerful literary backing at +once came forward to support him. It seems at first sight +improbable that those who too zealously urged his claims were +unaware that so much had been written on the subject, but when we +find even Mr. Wallace himself as profoundly ignorant on this subject +as he still either is, or affects to be, there is no limit +assignable to the ignorance or affected ignorance of the kind of +biologists who would write reviews in leading journals thirty years +ago. Mr. Wallace writes:- + +"A few great naturalists, struck by the very slight difference +between many of these species, and the numerous links that exist +between the most different forms of animals and plants, and also +observing that a great many species do vary considerably in their +forms, colours and habits, conceived the idea that they might be all +produced one from the other. The most eminent of these writers was +a great French naturalist, Lamarck, who published an elaborate work, +the Philosophie Zoologique, in which he endeavoured to prove that +all animals whatever are descended from other species of animals. +He attributed the change of species chiefly to the effect of changes +in the conditions of life--such as climate, food, &c.; and +especially to the desires and efforts of the animals themselves to +improve their condition, leading to a modification of form or size +in certain parts, owing to the well-known physiological law that all +organs are strengthened by constant use, while they are weakened or +even completely lost by disuse . . . + +"The only other important work dealing with the question was the +celebrated 'Vestiges of Creation,' published anonymously, but now +acknowledged to have been written by the late Robert Chambers." + +None are so blind as those who will not see, and it would be waste +of time to argue with the invincible ignorance of one who thinks +Lamarck and Buffon conceived that all species were produced from one +another, more especially as I have already dealt at some length with +the early evolutionists in my work, "Evolution, Old and New," first +published ten years ago, and not, so far as I am aware, detected in +serious error or omission. If, however, Mr. Wallace still thinks it +safe to presume so far on the ignorance of his readers as to say +that the only two important works on evolution before Mr. Darwin's +were Lamarck's Philosophie Zoologique and the "Vestiges of +Creation," how fathomable is the ignorance of the average reviewer +likely to have been thirty years ago, when the "Origin of Species" +was first published? Mr. Darwin claimed evolution as his own +theory. Of course, he would not claim it if he had no right to it. +Then by all means give him the credit of it. This was the most +natural view to take, and it was generally taken. It was not, +moreover, surprising that people failed to appreciate all the +niceties of Mr. Darwin's "distinctive feature" which, whether +distinctive or no, was assuredly not distinct, and was never frankly +contrasted with the older view, as it would have been by one who +wished it to be understood and judge upon its merits. It was in +consequence of this omission that people failed to note how fast and +loose Mr. Darwin played with his distinctive feature, and how +readily he dropped it on occasion. + +It may be said that the question of what was thought by the +predecessors of Mr. Darwin is, after all, personal, and of no +interest to the general public, comparable to that of the main +issue--whether we are to accept evolution or not. Granted that +Buffon, Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck bore the burden and heat of the +day before Mr. Charles Darwin was born, they did not bring people +round to their opinion, whereas Mr. Darwin and Mr. Wallace did, and +the public cannot be expected to look beyond this broad and +indisputable fact. + +The answer to this is, that the theory which Messrs. Darwin and +Wallace have persuaded the public to accept is demonstrably false, +and that the opponents of evolution are certain in the end to +triumph over it. Paley, in his "Natural Theology," long since +brought forward far too much evidence of design in animal +organisation to allow of our setting down its marvels to the +accumulations of fortunate accident, undirected by will, effort and +intelligence. Those who examine the main facts of animal and +vegetable organisation without bias will, no doubt, ere long +conclude that all animals and vegetables are derived ultimately from +unicellular organisms, but they will not less readily perceive that +the evolution of species without the concomitance and direction of +mind and effort is as inconceivable as is the independent creation +of every individual species. The two facts, evolution and design, +are equally patent to plain people. There is no escaping from +either. According to Messrs. Darwin and Wallace, we may have +evolution, but are on no account to have it as mainly due to +intelligent effort, guided by ever higher and higher range of +sensations, perceptions, and ideas. We are to set it down to the +shuffling of cards, or the throwing of dice without the play, and +this will never stand. + +According to the older men, cards did indeed count for much, but +play counted for more. They denied the teleology of the time--that +is to say, the teleology that saw all adaptation to surroundings as +part of a plan devised long ages since by a quasi-anthropomorphic +being who schemed everything out much as a man would do, but on an +infinitely vaster scale. This conception they found repugnant alike +to intelligence and conscience, but, though they do not seem to have +perceived it, they left the door open for a design more true and +more demonstrable than that which they excluded. By making their +variations mainly due to effort and intelligence, they made organic +development run on all-fours with human progress, and with +inventions which we have watched growing up from small beginnings. +They made the development of man from the amoeba part and parcel of +the story that may be read, though on an infinitely smaller scale, +in the development of our most powerful marine engines from the +common kettle, or of our finest microscopes from the dew-drop. + +The development of the steam-engine and the microscope is due to +intelligence and design, which did indeed utilise chance +suggestions, but which improved on these, and directed each step of +their accumulation, though never foreseeing more than a step or two +ahead, and often not so much as this. The fact, as I have elsewhere +urged, that the man who made the first kettle did not foresee the +engines of the Great Eastern, or that he who first noted the +magnifying power of the dew-drop had no conception of our present +microscopes--the very limited amount, in fact, of design and +intelligence that was called into play at any one point--this does +not make us deny that the steam-engine and microscope owe their +development to design. If each step of the road was designed, the +whole journey was designed, though the particular end was not +designed when the journey was begun. And so is it, according to the +older view of evolution, with the development of those living +organs, or machines, that are born with us, as part of the +perambulating carpenter's chest we call our bodies. The older view +gives us our design, and gives us our evolution too. If it refuses +to see a quasi-anthropomorphic God modelling each species from +without as a potter models clay, it gives us God as vivifying and +indwelling in all His creatures--He in them, and they in Him. If it +refuses to see God outside the universe, it equally refuses to see +any part of the universe as outside God. If it makes the universe +the body of God, it also makes God the soul of the universe. The +question at issue, then, between the Darwinism of Erasmus Darwin and +the neo-Darwinism of his grandson, is not a personal one, nor +anything like a personal one. It not only involves the existence of +evolution, but it affects the view we take of life and things in an +endless variety of most interesting and important ways. It is +imperative, therefore, on those who take any interest in these +matters, to place side by side in the clearest contrast the views of +those who refer the evolution of species mainly to accumulation of +variations that have no other inception than chance, and of that +older school which makes design perceive and develop still further +the goods that chance provides. + +But over and above this, which would be in itself sufficient, the +historical mode of studying any question is the only one which will +enable us to comprehend it effectually. The personal element cannot +be eliminated from the consideration of works written by living +persons for living persons. We want to know who is who--whom we can +depend upon to have no other end than the making things clear to +himself and his readers, and whom we should mistrust as having an +ulterior aim on which he is more intent than on the furthering of +our better understanding. We want to know who is doing his best to +help us, and who is only trying to make us help him, or to bolster +up the system in which his interests are vested. There is nothing +that will throw more light upon these points than the way in which a +man behaves towards those who have worked in the same field with +himself, and, again, than his style. A man's style, as Buffon long +since said, is the man himself. By style, I do not, of course, mean +grammar or rhetoric, but that style of which Buffon again said that +it is like happiness, and vient de la douceur de l'ame. When we +find a man concealing worse than nullity of meaning under sentences +that sound plausibly enough, we should distrust him much as we +should a fellow-traveller whom we caught trying to steal our watch. +We often cannot judge of the truth or falsehood of facts for +ourselves, but we most of us know enough of human nature to be able +to tell a good witness from a bad one. + +However this may be, and whatever we may think of judging systems by +the directness or indirectness of those who advance them, +biologists, having committed themselves too rashly, would have been +more than human if they had not shown some pique towards those who +dared to say, first, that the theory of Messrs. Darwin and Wallace +was unworkable; and secondly, that even though it were workable it +would not justify either of them in claiming evolution. When +biologists show pique at all they generally show a good deal of +pique, but pique or no pique, they shunned Mr. Spencer's objection +above referred to with a persistency more unanimous and obstinate +than I ever remember to have seen displayed even by professional +truth-seekers. I find no rejoinder to it from Mr. Darwin himself, +between 1865 when it was first put forward, and 1882 when Mr. Darwin +died. It has been similarly "ostrichised" by all the leading +apologists of Darwinism, so far at least as I have been able to +observe, and I have followed the matter closely for many years. Mr. +Spencer has repeated and amplified it in his recent work, "The +Factors of Organic Evolution," but it still remains without so much +as an attempt at serious answer, for the perfunctory and illusory +remarks of Mr. Wallace at the end of his "Darwinism" cannot be +counted as such. The best proof of its irresistible weight is that +Mr. Darwin, though maintaining silence in respect to it, retreated +from his original position in the direction that would most obviate +Mr. Spencer's objection. + +Yet this objection has been repeatedly urged by the more prominent +anti-Charles-Darwinian authorities, and there is no sign that the +British public is becoming less rigorous in requiring people either +to reply to objections repeatedly urged by men of even moderate +weight, or to let judgment go by default. As regards Mr. Darwin's +claim to the theory of evolution generally, Darwinians are beginning +now to perceive that this cannot be admitted, and either say with +some hardihood that Mr. Darwin never claimed it, or after a few +saving clauses to the effect that this theory refers only to the +particular means by which evolution has been brought about, imply +forthwith thereafter none the less that evolution is Mr. Darwin's +theory. Mr. Wallace has done this repeatedly in his recent +"Darwinism." Indeed, I should be by no means sure that on the first +page of his preface, in the passage about "Darwin's theory," which I +have already somewhat severely criticised, he was not intending +evolution by "Darwin's theory," if in his preceding paragraph he had +not so clearly shown that he knew evolution to be a theory of +greatly older date than Mr. Darwin's. + +The history of science--well exemplified by that of the development +theory--is the history of eminent men who have fought against light +and have been worsted. The tenacity with which Darwinians stick to +their accumulation of fortuitous variations is on a par with the +like tenacity shown by the illustrious Cuvier, who did his best to +crush evolution altogether. It always has been thus, and always +will be; nor is it desirable in the interests of Truth herself that +it should be otherwise. Truth is like money--lightly come, lightly +go; and if she cannot hold her own against even gross +misrepresentation, she is herself not worth holding. +Misrepresentation in the long run makes Truth as much as it mars +her; hence our law courts do not think it desirable that pleaders +should speak their bona fide opinions, much less that they should +profess to do so. Rather let each side hoodwink judge and jury as +best it can, and let truth flash out from collision of defence and +accusation. When either side will not collide, it is an axiom of +controversy that it desires to prevent the truth from being +elicited. + +Let us now note the courses forced upon biologists by the +difficulties of Mr. Darwin's distinctive feature. Mr. Darwin and +Mr. Wallace, as is well known, brought the feature forward +simultaneously and independently of one another, but Mr. Wallace +always believed in it more firmly than Mr. Darwin did. Mr. Darwin +as a young man did not believe in it. He wrote before 1889, +"Nature, by making habit omnipotent and its effects hereditary, has +fitted the Fuegian for the climate and productions of his country," +{21} a sentence than which nothing can coincide more fully with the +older view that use and disuse were the main purveyors of +variations, or conflict more fatally with his own subsequent +distinctive feature. Moreover, as I showed in my last work on +evolution, {22} in the peroration to his "Origin of Species," he +discarded his accidental variations altogether, and fell back on the +older theory, so that the body of the "Origin of Species" supports +one theory, and the peroration another that differs from it toto +caelo. Finally, in his later editions, he retreated indefinitely +from his original position, edging always more and more continually +towards the theory of his grandfather and Lamarck. These facts +convince me that he was at no time a thorough-going Darwinian, but +was throughout an unconscious Lamarckian, though ever anxious to +conceal the fact alike from himself and from his readers. + +Not so with Mr. Wallace, who was both more outspoken in the first +instance, and who has persevered along the path of Wallaceism just +as Mr. Darwin with greater sagacity was ever on the retreat from +Darwinism. Mr. Wallace's profounder faith led him in the outset to +place his theory in fuller daylight than Mr. Darwin was inclined to +do. Mr. Darwin just waved Lamarck aside, and said as little about +him as he could, while in his earlier editions Erasmus Darwin and +Buffon were not so much as named. Mr. Wallace, on the contrary, at +once raised the Lamarckian spectre, and declared it exorcised. He +said the Lamarckian hypothesis was "quite unnecessary." The giraffe +did not "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 shorter-necked +companions, and on the first scarcity of food were thus enabled to +outlive them." {23} + +"Which occurred" is evidently "which happened to occur" by some +chance or accident unconnected with use and disuse. The word +"accident" is never used, but Mr. Wallace must be credited with this +instance of a desire to give his readers a chance of perceiving that +according to his distinctive feature evolution is an affair of luck, +rather than of cunning. Whether his readers actually did understand +this as clearly as Mr. Wallace doubtless desired that they should, +and whether greater development at this point would not have helped +them to fuller apprehension, we need not now inquire. What was +gained in distinctness might have been lost in distinctiveness, and +after all he did technically put us upon our guard. + +Nevertheless he too at a pinch takes refuge in Lamarckism. In +relation to the manner in which the eyes of soles, turbots, and +other flat-fish travel round the head so as to become in the end +unsymmetrically placed, he says:- + +"The eyes of these fish are curiously distorted in order that both +eyes may be upon the upper side, where alone they would be of any +use. . . . Now if we suppose this process, which in the young is +completed in a few days or weeks, to have been spread over thousands +of generations during the development of these fish, those usually +surviving WHOSE EYES RETAINED MORE AND MORE OF THE POSITION INTO +WHICH THE YOUNG FISH TRIED TO TWIST THEM [italics mine], the change +becomes intelligible." {24} When it was said by Professor Ray +Lankester--who knows as well as most people what Lamarck taught-- +that this was "flat Lamarckism," Mr. Wallace rejoined that it was +the survival of the modified individuals that did it all, not the +efforts of the young fish to twist their eyes, and the transmission +to descendants of the effects of those efforts. But this, as I said +in my book, "Evolution, Old and New," {25} is like saying that +horses are swift runners, not by reason of the causes, whatever they +were, that occasioned the direct line of their progenitors to vary +towards ever greater and greater swiftness, but because their more +slow-going uncles and aunts go away. Plain people will prefer to +say that the main cause of any accumulation of favourable +modifications consists rather in that which brings about the initial +variations, and in the fact that these can be inherited at all, than +in the fact that the unmodified individuals were not successful. +People do not become rich because the poor in large numbers go away, +but because they have been lucky, or provident, or more commonly +both. If they would keep their wealth when they have made it they +must exclude luck thenceforth to the utmost of their power, and +their children must follow their example, or they will soon lose +their money. The fact that the weaker go to the wall does not bring +about the greater strength of the stronger; it is the consequence of +this last and not the cause--unless, indeed, it be contended that a +knowledge that the weak go to the wall stimulates the strong to +exertions which they would not otherwise so make, and that these +exertions produce inheritable modifications. Even in this case, +however, it would be the exertions, or use and disuse, that would be +the main agents in the modification. But it is not often that Mr. +Wallace thus backslides. His present position is that acquired (as +distinguished from congenital) modifications are not inherited at +all. He does not indeed put his faith prominently forward and pin +himself to it as plainly as could be wished, but under the heading, +"The Non-Heredity of Acquired Characters," he writes as follows on +p. 440 of his recent work in reference to Professor Weismann's +Theory of Heredity:- + +"Certain observations on the embryology of the lower animals are +held to afford direct proof of this theory of heredity, but they are +too technical to be made clear to ordinary readers. A logical +result of the theory is the impossibility of the transmission of +acquired characters, since the molecular structure of the germ-plasm +is already determined within the embryo; and Weismann holds that +there are no facts which really prove that acquired characters can +be inherited, although their inheritance has, by most writers, been +considered so probable as hardly to stand in need of direct proof. + +"We have already seen in the earlier part of this chapter that many +instances of change, imputed to the inheritance of acquired +variations, are really cases of selection." + +And the rest of the remarks tend to convey the impression that Mr. +Wallace adopts Professor Weismann's view, but, curiously enough, +though I have gone through Mr. Wallace's book with a special view to +this particular point, I have not been able to find him definitely +committing himself either to the assertion that acquired +modifications never are inherited, or that they sometimes are so. +It is abundantly laid down that Mr. Darwin laid too much stress on +use and disuse, and a residuary impression is left that Mr. Wallace +is endorsing Professor Weismann's view, but I have found it +impossible to collect anything that enables me to define his +position confidently in this respect. + +This is natural enough, for Mr. Wallace has entitled his book +"Darwinism," and a work denying that use and disuse produced any +effect could not conceivably be called Darwinism. Mr. Herbert +Spencer has recently collected many passages from "The Origin of +Species" and from "Animals and Plants under Domestication," {26} +which show how largely, after all, use and disuse entered into Mr. +Darwin's system, and we know that in his later years he attached +still more importance to them. It was out of the question, +therefore, that Mr. Wallace should categorically deny that their +effects were inheritable. On the other hand, the temptation to +adopt Professor Weismann's view must have been overwhelming to one +who had been already inclined to minimise the effects of use and +disuse. On the whole, one does not see what Mr. Wallace could do, +other than what he has done--unless, of course, he changed his +title, or had been no longer Mr. Wallace. + +Besides, thanks to the works of Mr. Spencer, Professor Mivart, +Professor Semper, and very many others, there has for some time been +a growing perception that the Darwinism of Charles Darwin was +doomed. Use and disuse must either do even more than is officially +recognised in Mr. Darwin's later concessions, or they must do a +great deal less. If they can do as much as Mr. Darwin himself said +they did, why should they not do more? Why stop where Mr. Darwin +did? And again, where in the name of all that is reasonable did he +really stop? He drew no line, and on what principle can we say that +so much is possible as effect of use and disuse, but so much more +impossible? If, as Mr. Darwin contended, disuse can so far reduce +an organ as to render it rudimentary, and in many cases get rid of +it altogether, why cannot use create as much as disuse can destroy, +provided it has anything, no matter how low in structure, to begin +with? Let us know where we stand. If it is admitted that use and +disuse can do a good deal, what does a good deal mean? And what is +the proportion between the shares attributable to use and disuse and +to natural selection respectively? If we cannot be told with +absolute precision, let us at any rate have something more definite +than the statement that natural selection is "the most important +means of modification." + +Mr. Darwin gave us no help in this respect; and worse than this, he +contradicted himself so flatly as to show that he had very little +definite idea upon the subject at all. Thus in respect to the +winglessness of the Madeira beetles he wrote:- + +"In some cases we might easily put down to disuse modifications of +structure, which are wholly or mainly due to natural selection. Mr. +Wollaston has discovered the remarkable fact that 200 beetles, out +of the 550 species (but more are now known) inhabiting Madeira, are +so far deficient in wings that they cannot fly; and that of the 29 +endemic genera no less than 23 have all their species in this +condition! Several facts,--namely, that beetles in many parts of +the world are frequently blown out to sea and perish; that the +beetles in Madeira, as observed by Mr. Wollaston, lie much concealed +until the wind lulls and the sun shines; that the proportion of +wingless beetles is larger on the exposed Desertas than in Madeira +itself; and especially the extraordinary fact, so strongly insisted +on by Mr. Wollaston, that certain large groups of beetles, elsewhere +excessively numerous, which absolutely require the use of their +wings are here almost entirely absent;--these several considerations +make me believe that the wingless condition of so many Madeira +beetles is mainly due to the action of natural selection, COMBINED +PROBABLY WITH DISUSE [italics mine]. For during many successive +generations each individual beetle which flew least, either from its +wings having been ever so little less perfectly developed or from +indolent habit, will have had the best chance of surviving, from not +being blown out to sea; and, on the other hand, those beetles which +most readily took to flight would oftenest have been blown to sea, +and thus destroyed." {27} + +We should like to know, first, somewhere about how much disuse was +able to do after all, and moreover why, if it can do anything at +all, it should not be able to do all. Mr. Darwin says: "Any change +in structure and function which can be effected by small stages is +within the power of natural selection." "And why not," we ask, +"within the power of use and disuse?" Moreover, on a later page we +find Mr. Darwin saying:- + +"IT APPEARS PROBABLE THAT DISUSE HAS BEEN THE MAIN AGENT IN +RENDERING ORGANS RUDIMENTARY [italics mine]. It would at first lead +by slow steps to the more and more complete reduction of a part, +until at last it has become rudimentary--as in the case of the eyes +of animals inhabiting dark caverns, and of the wings of birds +inhabiting oceanic islands, which have seldom been forced by beasts +of prey to take flight, and have ultimately lost the power of +flying. Again, an organ, useful under certain conditions, might +become injurious under others, AS WITH THE WINGS OF BEETLES LIVING +ON SMALL AND EXPOSED ISLANDS; and in this case natural selection +will have aided in reducing the organ, until it was rendered +harmless and rudimentary [italics mine]." {28} + +So that just as an undefined amount of use and disuse was introduced +on the earlier page to supplement the effects of natural selection +in respect of the wings of beetles on small and exposed islands, we +have here an undefined amount of natural selection introduced to +supplement the effects of use and disuse in respect of the identical +phenomena. In the one passage we find that natural selection has +been the main agent in reducing the wings, though use and disuse +have had an appreciable share in the result; in the other, it is use +and disuse that have been the main agents, though an appreciable +share in the result must be ascribed to natural selection. + +Besides, who has seen the uncles and aunts going away with the +uniformity that is necessary for Mr. Darwin's contention? We know +that birds and insects do often get blown out to sea and perish, but +in order to establish Mr. Darwin's position we want the evidence of +those who watched the reduction of the wings during the many +generations in the course of which it was being effected, and who +can testify that all, or the overwhelming majority, of the beetles +born with fairly well-developed wings got blown out to sea, while +those alone survived whose wings were congenitally degenerate. Who +saw them go, or can point to analogous cases so conclusive as to +compel assent from any equitable thinker? + +Darwinians of the stamp of Mr. Thiselton Dyer, Professor Ray +Lankester, or Mr. Romanes, insist on their pound of flesh in the +matter of irrefragable demonstration. They complain of us for not +bringing forward some one who has been able to detect the movement +of the hour-hand of a watch during a second of time, and when we +fail to do so, declare triumphantly that we have no evidence that +there is any connection between the beating of a second and the +movement of the hour-hand. When we say that rain comes from the +condensation of moisture in the atmosphere, they demand of us a +rain-drop from moisture not yet condensed. If they stickle for +proof and cavil on the ninth part of a hair, as they do when we +bring forward what we deem excellent instances of the transmission +of an acquired characteristic, why may not we, too, demand at any +rate some evidence that the unmodified beetles actually did always, +or nearly always, get blown out to sea, during the reduction above +referred to, and that it is to this fact, and not to the masterly +inactivity of their fathers and mothers, that the Madeira beetles +owe their winglessness? If we began stickling for proof in this +way, our opponents would not be long in letting us know that +absolute proof is unattainable on any subject, that reasonable +presumption is our highest certainty, and that crying out for too +much evidence is as bad as accepting too little. Truth is like a +photographic sensitised plate, which is equally ruined by over and +by under exposure, and the just exposure for which can never be +absolutely determined. + +Surely if disuse can be credited with the vast powers involved in +Mr. Darwin's statement that it has probably "been the main agent in +rendering organs rudimentary," no limits are assignable to the +accumulated effects of habit, provided the effects of habit, or use +and disuse, are supposed, as Mr. Darwin supposed them, to be +inheritable at all. Darwinians have at length woke up to the +dilemma in which they are placed by the manner in which Mr. Darwin +tried to sit on the two stools of use and disuse, and natural +selection of accidental variations, at the same time. The knell of +Charles-Darwinism is rung in Mr. Wallace's present book, and in the +general perception on the part of biologists that we must either +assign to use and disuse such a predominant share in modification as +to make it the feature most proper to be insisted on, or deny that +the modifications, whether of mind or body, acquired during a single +lifetime, are ever transmitted at all. If they can be inherited at +all, they can be accumulated. If they can be accumulated at all, +they can be so, for anything that appears to the contrary, to the +extent of the specific and generic differences with which we are +surrounded. The only thing to do is to pluck them out root and +branch: they are as a cancer which, if the smallest fibre be left +unexcised, will grow again, and kill any system on to which it is +allowed to fasten. Mr. Wallace, therefore, may well be excused if +he casts longing eyes towards Weismannism. + +And what was Mr. Darwin's system? Who can make head or tail of the +inextricable muddle in which he left it? The "Origin of Species" in +its latest shape is the reduction of hedging to an absurdity. How +did Mr. Darwin himself leave it in the last chapter of the last +edition of the "Origin of Species"? He wrote:- + +"I have now recapitulated the facts and considerations which have +thoroughly convinced me that species have been modified during a +long course of descent. This has been effected chiefly through the +natural selection of numerous, successive, slight, favourable +variations; aided in an important manner by the inherited effects of +the use and disuse of parts, and in an unimportant manner--that is, +in relation to adaptive structures whether past or present--by the +direct action of external conditions, and by variations which seem +to us in our ignorance to arise spontaneously. It appears that I +formerly underrated the frequency and value of these latter forms of +variation, as leading to permanent modifications of structure +independently of natural selection." + +The "numerous, successive, slight, favourable variations" above +referred to are intended to be fortuitous, accidental, spontaneous. +It is the essence of Mr. Darwin's theory that this should be so. +Mr. Darwin's solemn statement, therefore, of his theory, after he +had done his best or his worst with it, is, when stripped of +surplusage, as follows:- + +"The modification of species has been mainly effected by +accumulation of spontaneous variations; it has been aided in an +important manner by accumulation of variations due to use and +disuse, and in an unimportant manner by spontaneous variations; I do +not even now think that spontaneous variations have been very +important, but I used once to think them less important than I do +now." + +It is a discouraging symptom of the age that such a system should +have been so long belauded, and it is a sign of returning +intelligence that even he who has been more especially the alter ego +of Mr. Darwin should have felt constrained to close the chapter of +Charles-Darwinism as a living theory, and relegate it to the +important but not very creditable place in history which it must +henceforth occupy. It is astonishing, however, that Mr. Wallace +should have quoted the extract from the "Origin of Species" just +given, as he has done on p. 412 of his "Darwinism," without +betraying any sign that he has caught its driftlessness--for drift, +other than a desire to hedge, it assuredly has not got. The battle +now turns on the question whether modifications of either structure +or instinct due to use or disuse are ever inherited, or whether they +are not. Can the effects of habit be transmitted to progeny at all? +We know that more usually they are not transmitted to any +perceptible extent, but we believe also that occasionally, and +indeed not infrequently, they are inherited and even intensified. +What are our grounds for this opinion? It will be my object to put +these forward in the following number of the Universal Review. + + + +THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM--PART II {29} + + + +At the close of my article in last month's number of the Universal +Review, I said I would in this month's issue show why the opponents +of Charles-Darwinism believe the effects of habits acquired during +the lifetime of a parent to produce an effect on their subsequent +offspring, in spite of the fact that we can rarely find the effect +in any one generation, or even in several, sufficiently marked to +arrest our attention. + +I will now show that offspring can be, and not very infrequently is, +affected by occurrences that have produced a deep impression on the +parent organism--the effect produced on the offspring being such as +leaves no doubt that it is to be connected with the impression +produced on the parent. Having thus established the general +proposition, I will proceed to the more particular one--that habits, +involving use and disuse of special organs, with the modifications +of structure thereby engendered, produce also an effect upon +offspring, which, though seldom perceptible as regards structure in +a single, or even in several generations, is nevertheless capable of +being accumulated in successive generations till it amounts to +specific and generic difference. I have found the first point as +much as I can treat within the limits of this present article, and +will avail myself of the hospitality of the Universal Review next +month to deal with the second. + +The proposition which I have to defend is one which no one till +recently would have questioned, and even now, those who look most +askance at it do not venture to dispute it unreservedly; they every +now and then admit it as conceivable, and even in some cases +probable; nevertheless they seek to minimise it, and to make out +that there is little or no connection between the great mass of the +cells of which the body is composed, and those cells that are alone +capable of reproducing the entire organism. The tendency is to +assign to these last a life of their own, apart from, and +unconnected with that of the other cells of the body, and to cheapen +all evidence that tends to prove any response on their part to the +past history of the individual, and hence ultimately of the race. + +Professor Weismann is the foremost exponent of those who take this +line. He has naturally been welcomed by English Charles-Darwinians; +for if his view can be sustained, then it can be contended that use +and disuse produce no transmissible effect, and the ground is cut +from under Lamarck's feet; if, on the other hand, his view is +unfounded, the Lamarckian reaction, already strong, will gain still +further strength. The issue, therefore, is important, and is being +fiercely contested by those who have invested their all of +reputation for discernment in Charles-Darwinian securities. + +Professor Weismann's theory is, that at every new birth a part of +the substance which proceeds from parents and which goes to form the +new embryo is not used up in forming the new animal, but remains +apart to generate the germ-cells--or perhaps I should say "germ- +plasm"--which the new animal itself will in due course issue. + +Contrasting the generally received view with his own, Professor +Weismann says that according to the first of these "the organism +produces germ-cells afresh again and again, and that it produces +them entirely from its own substance." While by the second "the +germ-cells are no longer looked upon as the product of the parent's +body, at least as far as their essential part--the specific germ- +plasm--is concerned; they are rather considered as something which +is to be placed in contrast with the tout ensemble of the cells +which make up the parent's body, and the germ-cells of succeeding +generations stand in a similar relation to one another as a series +of generations of unicellular organisms arising by a continued +process of cell-division." {30} + +On another page he writes:- + +"I believe that heredity depends upon the fact that a small portion +of the effective substance of the germ, the germ-plasm, remains +unchanged during the development of the ovum into an organism, and +that this part of the germ-plasm serves as a foundation from which +the germ-cells of the new organism are produced. There is, +therefore, continuity of the germ-plasm from one generation to +another. One might represent the germ-plasm by the metaphor of a +long creeping root-stock from which plants arise at intervals, these +latter representing the individuals of successive generations." {31} + +Mr. Wallace, who does not appear to have read Professor Weismann's +essays themselves, but whose remarks are, no doubt, ultimately +derived from the sequel to the passage just quoted from page 266 of +Professor Weismann's book, contends that the impossibility of the +transmission of acquired characters follows as a logical result from +Professor Weismann's theory, inasmuch as the molecular structure of +the germ-plasm that will go to form any succeeding generation is +already predetermined within the still unformed embryo of its +predecessor; "and Weismann," continues Mr. Wallace, "holds that +there are no facts which really prove that acquired characters can +be inherited, although their inheritance has, by most writers, been +considered so probable as hardly to stand in need of direct proof." +{32} + +Professor Weismann, in passages too numerous to quote, shows that he +recognises this necessity, and acknowledges that the non- +transmission of acquired characters "forms the foundation of the +views" set forth in his book, p. 291. + +Professor Ray Lankester does not commit himself absolutely to this +view, but lends it support by saying (Nature, December 12, 1889): +"It is hardly necessary to say that it has never yet been shown +experimentally that ANYTHING acquired by one generation is +transmitted to the next (putting aside diseases)." + +Mr. Romanes, writing in Nature, March 18, 1890, and opposing certain +details of Professor Weismann's theory, so far supports it as to say +that "there is the gravest possible doubt lying against the +supposition that any really inherited decrease is due to the +inherited effects of disuse." The "gravest possible doubt" should +mean that Mr. Romanes regards it as a moral certainty that disuse +has no transmitted effect in reducing an organ, and it should follow +that he holds use to have no transmitted effect in its development. +The sequel, however, makes me uncertain how far Mr. Romanes intends +this, and I would refer the reader to the article which Mr. Romanes +has just published on Weismann in the Contemporary Review for this +current month. + +The burden of Mr. Thiselton Dyer's controversy with the Duke of +Argyll (see Nature, January 16, 1890, et seq.) was that there was no +evidence in support of the transmission of any acquired +modification. The orthodoxy of science, therefore, must be held as +giving at any rate a provisional support to Professor Weismann, but +all of them, including even Professor Weismann himself, shrink from +committing themselves to the opinion that the germ-cells of any +organisms remain in all cases unaffected by the events that occur to +the other cells of the same organism, and until they do this they +have knocked the bottom out of their case. + +From among the passages in which Professor Weismann himself shows a +desire to hedge I may take the following from page 170 of his book:- + +"I am also far from asserting that the germ-plasm which, as I hold, +is transmitted as the basis of heredity from one generation to +another, is absolutely unchangeable or totally uninfluenced by +forces residing in the organism within which it is transformed into +germ-cells. I am also compelled to admit it as conceivable that +organisms may exert a modifying influence upon their germ-cells, and +even that such a process is to a certain extent inevitable. The +nutrition and growth of the individual must exercise some influence +upon its germ-cells . . . " + +Professor Weismann does indeed go on to say that this influence must +be extremely slight, but we do not care how slight the changes +produced may be provided they exist and can be transmitted. On an +earlier page (p. 101) he said in regard to variations generally that +we should not expect to find them conspicuous; their frequency would +be enough, if they could be accumulated. The same applies here, if +stirring events that occur to the somatic cells can produce any +effect at all on offspring. A very small effect, provided it can be +repeated and accumulated in successive generations, is all that even +the most exacting Lamarckian will ask for. + +Having now made the reader acquainted with the position taken by the +leading Charles-Darwinian authorities, I will return to Professor +Weismann himself, who declares that the transmission of acquired +characters "at first sight certainly seems necessary," and that "it +appears rash to attempt to dispense with its aid." He continues:- + +"Many phenomena only appear to be intelligible if we assume the +hereditary transmission of such acquired characters as the changes +which we ascribe to the use or disuse of particular organs, or to +the direct influence of climate. Furthermore, how can we explain +instinct as hereditary habit, unless it has gradually arisen by the +accumulation, through heredity, of habits which were practised in +succeeding generations?" {33} + +I may say in passing that Professor Weismann appears to suppose that +the view of instinct just given is part of the Charles-Darwinian +system, for on page 889 of his book he says "that many observers had +followed Darwin in explaining them [instincts] as inherited habits." +This was not Mr. Darwin's own view of the matter. He wrote:- + +"If we suppose any habitual action to become inherited--and I think +it can be shown that this does sometimes happen--then the +resemblance between what originally was a habit and an instinct +becomes so close as not to be distinguished. . . But it would be the +most 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. It can be clearly shown +that the most wonderful instincts with which we are acquainted, +namely, those of the hive-bee and of many ants, could not possibly +have been thus acquired."--["Origin of Species," ed., 1859, p. 209.] + +Again we read: "Domestic instincts are sometimes spoken of as +actions which have become inherited solely from long-continued and +compulsory habit, but this, I think, is not true."--Ibid., p. 214. + +Again: "I am surprised that no one has advanced this demonstrative +case of neuter insects, against the well-known doctrine of inherited +habit, as advanced by Lamarck."--["Origin of Species," ed. 1872, p. +283.] + +I am not aware that Lamarck advanced the doctrine that instinct is +inherited habit, but he may have done so in some work that I have +not seen. + +It is true, as I have more than once pointed out, that in the later +editions of the "Origin of Species" it is no longer "the MOST +serious" error to refer instincts generally to inherited habit, but +it still remains "a serious error," and this slight relaxation of +severity does not warrant Professor Weismann in ascribing to Mr. +Darwin an opinion which he emphatically condemned. His tone, +however, is so offhand, that those who have little acquaintance with +the literature of evolution would hardly guess that he is not much +better informed on this subject than themselves. + +Returning to the inheritance of acquired characters, Professor +Weismann says that this has never been proved either by means of +direct observation or by experiment. "It must be admitted," he +writes, "that there are in existence numerous descriptions of cases +which tend to prove that such mutilations as the loss of fingers, +the scars of wounds, &c., are inherited by the offspring, but in +these descriptions the previous history is invariably obscure, and +hence the evidence loses all scientific value." + +The experiments of M. Brown-Sequard throw so much light upon the +question at issue that I will quote at some length from the summary +given by Mr. Darwin in his "Variation of Animals and Plants under +Domestication." {34} Mr. Darwin writes:- + +"With respect to the inheritance of structures mutilated by injuries +or altered by disease, it was until lately difficult to come to any +definite conclusion." [Then follow several cases in which +mutilations practised for many generations are not found to be +transmitted.] "Notwithstanding," continues Mr. Darwin, "the above +several negative cases, we now possess conclusive evidence that the +effects of operations are sometimes inherited. Dr. Brown-Sequard +gives the following summary of his observations on guinea-pigs, and +this summary is so important that I will quote the whole:- + +"'1st. Appearance of epilepsy in animals born of parents having +been rendered epileptic by an injury to the spinal cord. + +"'2nd. Appearance of epilepsy also in animals born of parents +having been rendered epileptic by the section of the sciatic nerve. + +"'3rd. A change in the shape of the ear in animals born of parents +in which such a change was the effect of a division of the cervical +sympathetic nerve. + +"'4th. Partial closure of the eyelids in animals born of parents in +which that state of the eyelids had been caused either by the +section of the cervical sympathetic nerve or the removal of the +superior cervical ganglion. + +"'5th. Exophthalmia in animals born of parents in which an injury +to the restiform body had produced that protrusion of the eyeball. +This interesting fact I have witnessed a good many times, and I have +seen the transmission of the morbid state of the eye continue +through four generations. In these animals modified by heredity, +the two eyes generally protruded, although in the parents usually +only one showed exophthalmia, the lesion having been made in most +cases only on one of the corpora restiformia. + +"'6th. Haematoma and dry gangrene of the ears in animals born of +parents in which these ear-alterations had been caused by an injury +to the restiform body near the nib of the calamus. + +"'7th. Absence of two toes out of the three of the hind leg, and +sometimes of the three, in animals whose parents had eaten up their +hind-leg toes which had become anaesthetic from a section of the +sciatic nerve alone, or of that nerve and also of the crural. +Sometimes, instead of complete absence of the toes, only a part of +one or two or three was missing in the young, although in the parent +not only the toes but the whole foot was absent (partly eaten off, +partly destroyed by inflammation, ulceration, or gangrene). + +"'8th. Appearance of various morbid states of the skin and hair of +the neck and face in animals born of parents having had similar +alterations in the same parts, as effects of an injury to the +sciatic nerve.' + +"It should be especially observed that Brown-Sequard has bred during +thirty years many thousand guinea-pigs from animals which had not +been operated upon, and not one of these manifested the epileptic +tendency. Nor has he ever seen a guinea-pig born without toes, +which was not the offspring of parents which had gnawed off their +own toes owing to the sciatic nerve having been divided. Of this +latter fact thirteen instances were carefully recorded, and a +greater number were seen; yet Brown-Sequard speaks of such cases as +one of the rarer forms of inheritance. It is a still more +interesting fact, 'that the sciatic nerve in the congenitally +toeless animal has inherited the power of passing through all the +different morbid states which have occurred in one of its parents +from the time of the division till after its reunion with the +peripheric end. It is not, therefore, simply the power of +performing an action which is inherited, but the power of performing +a whole series of actions, in a certain order.' + +"In most of the cases of inheritance recorded by Brown-Sequard only +one of the two parents had been operated upon and was affected. He +concludes by expressing his belief that 'what is transmitted is the +morbid state of the nervous system,' due to the operation performed +on the parents." + +Mr. Darwin proceeds to give other instances of inherited effects of +mutilations:- + +"With the horse there seems hardly a doubt that exostoses on the +legs, caused by too much travelling on hard roads, are inherited. +Blumenbach records the case of a man who had his little finger on +the right hand almost cut off, and which in consequence grew +crooked, and his sons had the same finger on the same hand similarly +crooked. A soldier, fifteen years before his marriage, lost his +left eye from purulent ophthalmia, and his two sons were +microphthalmic on the same side." + +The late Professor Rolleston, whose competence as an observer no one +is likely to dispute, gave Mr. Darwin two cases as having fallen +under his own notice, one of a man whose knee had been severely +wounded, and whose child was born with the same spot marked or +scarred, and the other of one who was severely cut upon the cheek, +and whose child was born scarred in the same place. Mr. Darwin's +conclusion was that "the effects of injuries, especially when +followed by disease, or perhaps exclusively when thus followed, are +occasionally inherited." + +Let us now see what Professor Weismann has to say against this. He +writes:- + +"The only cases worthy of discussion are the well-known experiments +upon guinea-pigs conducted by the French physiologist, Brown- +Sequard. But the explanation of his results is, in my opinion, open +to discussion. In these cases we have to do with the apparent +transmission of artificially produced malformations . . . All these +effects were said to be transmitted to descendants as far as the +fifth or sixth generation. + +"But we must inquire whether these cases are really due to heredity, +and not to simple infection. In the case of epilepsy, at any rate, +it is easy to imagine that the passage of some specific organism +through the reproductive cells may take place, as in the case of +syphilis. We are, however, entirely ignorant of the nature of the +former disease. This suggested explanation may not perhaps apply to +the other cases; but we must remember that animals which have been +subjected to such severe operations upon the nervous system have +sustained a great shock, and if they are capable of breeding, it is +only probable that they will produce weak descendants, and such as +are easily affected by disease. Such a result does not, however, +explain why the offspring should suffer from the same disease as +that which was artificially induced in the parents. But this does +not appear to have been by any means invariably the case. Brown- +Sequard himself says: 'The changes in the eye of the offspring were +of a very variable nature, and were only occasionally exactly +similar to those observed in the parents.' + +"There is no doubt, however, that these experiments demand careful +consideration, but before they can claim scientific recognition, +they must be subjected to rigid criticism as to the precautions +taken, the nature and number of the control experiments, &c. + +"Up to the present time such necessary conditions have not been +sufficiently observed. The recent experiments themselves are only +described in short preliminary notices, which, as regards their +accuracy, the possibility of mistake, the precautions taken, and the +exact succession of individuals affected, afford no data on which a +scientific opinion can be founded" (pp. 81, 82). + +The line Professor Weismann takes, therefore, is to discredit the +facts; yet on a later page we find that the experiments have since +been repeated by Obersteiner, "who has described them in a very +exact and unprejudiced manner," and that "the fact"--(I imagine that +Professor Weismann intends "the facts")--"cannot be doubted." + +On a still later page, however, we read:- + +"If, for instance, it could be shown that artificial mutilation +spontaneously reappears in the offspring with sufficient frequency +to exclude all possibilities of chance, then such proof [i.e., that +acquired characters can be transmitted] would be forthcoming. The +transmission of mutilations has been frequently asserted, and has +been even recently again brought forward, but all the supposed +instances have broken down when carefully examined" (p. 390). + +Here, then, we are told that proof of the occasional transmission of +mutilations would be sufficient to establish the fact, but on p. 267 +we find that no single fact is known which really proves that +acquired characters can be transmitted, "FOR THE ASCERTAINED FACTS +WHICH SEEM TO POINT TO THE TRANSMISSION OF ARTIFICIALLY PRODUCED +DISEASES CANNOT BE CONSIDERED AS PROOF" [Italics mine.] Perhaps; +but it was mutilation in many cases that Professor Weismann +practically admitted to have been transmitted when he declared that +Obersteiner had verified Brown-Sequard's experiments. + +That Professor Weismann recognises the vital importance to his own +theory of the question whether or no mutilations can be transmitted +under any circumstances, is evident from a passage on p. 425 of his +work, on which he says: "It can hardly be doubted that mutilations +are acquired characters; they do not arise from any tendency +contained in the germ, but are merely the reaction of the body under +certain external influences. They are, as I have recently expressed +it, purely somatogenic characters--viz., characters which emanate +from the body (soma) only, as opposed to the germ-cells; they are, +therefore, characters that do not arise from the germ itself. + +"If mutilations must necessarily be transmitted" [which no one that +I know of has maintained], "or even if they might occasionally be +transmitted" [which cannot, I imagine, be reasonably questioned], "a +powerful support would be given to the Lamarckian principle, and the +transmission of functional hypertrophy or atrophy would thus become +highly probable." + +I have not found any further attempt in Professor Weismann's book to +deal with the evidence adduced by Mr. Darwin to show that +mutilations, if followed by diseases, are sometimes inherited; and I +must leave it to the reader to determine how far Professor Weismann +has shown reason for rejecting Mr. Darwin's conclusion. I do not, +however, dwell upon these facts now as evidence of a transmitted +change of bodily form, or of instinct due to use and disuse or +habit; what they prove is that the germ-cells within the parent's +body do not stand apart from the other cells of the body so +completely as Professor Weismann would have us believe, but that, as +Professor Hering, of Prague, has aptly said, they echo with more or +less frequency and force to the profounder impressions made upon +other cells. + +I may say that Professor Weismann does not more cavalierly wave +aside the mass of evidence collected by Mr. Darwin and a host of +other writers, to the effect that mutilations are sometimes +inherited, than does Mr. Wallace, who says that, "as regards +mutilations, it is generally admitted that they are not inherited, +and there is ample evidence on this point." It is indeed generally +admitted that mutilations, when not followed by disease, are very +rarely, if ever, inherited; and Mr. Wallace's appeal to the "ample +evidence" which he alleges to exist on this head, is much as though +he should say that there is ample evidence to show that the days are +longer in summer than in winter. "Nevertheless," he continues, "a +few cases of apparent inheritance of mutilations have been recorded, +and these, if trustworthy, are difficulties in the way of the +theory." . . . "The often-quoted case of a disease induced by +mutilation being inherited (Brown-Sequard's epileptic guinea-pigs) +has been discussed by Professor Weismann and shown to be not +conclusive. The mutilation itself--a section of certain nerves--was +never inherited, but the resulting epilepsy, or a general state of +weakness, deformity, or sores, was sometimes inherited. It is, +however, possible that the mere injury introduced and encouraged the +growth of certain microbes, which, spreading through the organism, +sometimes reached the germ-cells, and thus transmitted a diseased +condition to the offspring." {35} + +I suppose a microbe which made guinea-pigs eat their toes off was +communicated to the germ-cells of an unfortunate guinea-pig which +had been already microbed by it, and made the offspring bite its +toes off too. The microbe has a good deal to answer for. + +On the case of the deterioration of horses in the Falkland Islands +after a few generations, Professor Weismann says:- + +"In such a case we have only to assume that the climate which is +unfavourable, and the nutriment which is insufficient for horses, +affect not only the animal as a whole but also its germ-cells. This +would result in the diminution in size of the germ-cells, the +effects upon the offspring being still further intensified by the +insufficient nourishment supplied during growth. But such results +would not depend upon the transmission by the germ-cells of certain +peculiarities due to the unfavourable climate, which only appear in +the full-grown horse." + +But Professor Weismann does not like such cases, and admits that he +cannot explain the facts in connection with the climatic varieties +of certain butterflies, except "by supposing the passive acquisition +of characters produced by the direct influence of climate." + +Nevertheless in his next paragraph but one he calls such cases +"doubtful," and proposes that for the moment they should be left +aside. He accordingly leaves them, but I have not yet found what +other moment he considered auspicious for returning to them. He +tells us that "new experiments will be necessary, and that he has +himself already begun to undertake them." Perhaps he will give us +the results of these experiments in some future book--for that they +will prove satisfactory to him can hardly, I think, be doubted. He +writes:- + +"Leaving on one side, for the moment, these doubtful and +insufficiently investigated cases, we may still maintain that the +assumption that changes induced by external conditions in the +organism as a whole are communicated to the germ-cells after the +manner indicated in Darwin's hypothesis of pangenesis, is wholly +unnecessary for the explanation of these phenomena. Still we cannot +exclude the possibility of such a transmission occasionally +occurring, for even if the greater part of the effects must be +attributable to natural selection, there might be a smaller part in +certain cases which depends on this exceptional factor." + +I repeatedly tried to understand Mr. Darwin's theory of pangenesis, +and so often failed that I long since gave the matter up in despair. +I did so with the less unwillingness because I saw that no one else +appeared to understand the theory, and that even Mr. Darwin's +warmest adherents regarded it with disfavour. If Mr. Darwin means +that every cell of the body throws off minute particles that find +their way to the germ-cells, and hence into the new embryo, this is +indeed difficult of comprehension and belief. If he means that the +rhythms or vibrations that go on ceaselessly in every cell of the +body communicate themselves with greater or less accuracy or +perturbation, as the case may be, to the cells that go to form +offspring, and that since the characteristics of matter are +determined by vibrations, in communicating vibrations they in effect +communicate matter, according to the view put forward in the last +chapter of my book "Luck or Cunning," {36} then we can better +understand it. I have nothing, however, to do with Mr. Darwin's +theory of pangenesis beyond avoiding the pretence that I understand +either the theory itself or what Professor Weismann says about it; +all I am concerned with is Professor Weismann's admission, made +immediately afterwards, that the somatic cells may, and perhaps +sometimes do, impart characteristics to the germ-cells. + +"A complete and satisfactory refutation of such an opinion," he +continues, "cannot be brought forward at present"; so I suppose we +must wait a little longer, but in the meantime we may again remark +that, if we admit even occasional communication of changes in the +somatic cells to the germ-cells, we have let in the thin end of the +wedge, as Mr. Darwin did when he said that use and disuse did a good +deal towards modification. Buffon, in his first volume on the lower +animals, {37} dwells on the impossibility of stopping the breach +once made by admission of variation at all. "If the point," he +writes, "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 farther 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." So with use and disuse +and transmission of acquired characteristics generally--once show +that a single structure or instinct is due to habit in preceding +generations, and we can impose no limit on the results achievable by +accumulation in this respect, nor shall we be wrong in conceiving it +as possible that all specialisation, whether of structure or +instinct, may be due ultimately to habit. + +How far this can be shown to be probable is, of course, another +matter, but I am not immediately concerned with this; all I am +concerned with now is to show that the germ-cells not unfrequently +become permanently affected by events that have made a profound +impression upon the somatic cells, in so far that they transmit an +obvious reminiscence of the impression to the embryos which they go +subsequently towards forming. This is all that is necessary for my +case, and I do not find that Professor Weismann, after all, disputes +it. + +But here, again, comes the difficulty of saying what Professor +Weismann does, and what he does not, dispute. One moment he gives +all that is wanted for the Lamarckian contention, the next he denies +common-sense the bare necessaries of life. For a more exhaustive +and detailed criticism of Professor Weismann's position, I would +refer the reader to an admirably clear article by Mr. Sidney H. +Vines, which appeared in Nature, October 24, 1889. I can only say +that while reading Professor Weismann's book, I feel as I do when I +read those of Mr. Darwin, and of a good many other writers on +biology whom I need not name. I become like a fly in a window-pane. +I see the sunshine and freedom beyond, and buzz up and down their +pages, ever hopeful to get through them to the fresh air without, +but ever kept back by a mysterious something, which I feel but +cannot either grasp or see. It was not thus when I read Buffon, +Erasmus Darwin, and Lamarck; it is not thus when I read such +articles as Mr. Vines's just referred to. Love of self-display, and +the want of singleness of mind that it inevitably engenders--these, +I suppose, are the sins that glaze the casements of most men's +minds; and from these, no matter how hard he tries to free himself, +nor how much he despises them, who is altogether exempt? + +Finally, then, when we consider the immense mass of evidence +referred to briefly, but sufficiently, by Mr. Charles Darwin, and +referred to without other, for the most part, than off-hand +dismissal by Professor Weismann in the last of the essays that have +been recently translated, I do not see how any one who brings an +unbiased mind to the question can hesitate as to the side on which +the weight of testimony inclines. Professor Weismann declares that +"the transmission of mutilations may be dismissed into the domain of +fable." {38} If so, then, whom can we trust? What is the use of +science at all if the conclusions of a man as competent as I readily +admit Mr. Darwin to have been, on the evidence laid before him from +countless sources, is to be set aside lightly and without giving the +clearest and most cogent explanation of the why and wherefore? When +we see a person "ostrichising" the evidence which he has to meet, as +clearly as I believe Professor Weismann to be doing, we shall in +nine cases out of ten be right in supposing that he knows the +evidence to be too strong for him. + + + +THE DEADLOCK IN DARWINISM--PART III + + + +Now let me return to the recent division of biological opinion into +two main streams--Lamarckism and Weismannism Both Lamarckians and +Weismannists, not to mention mankind in general, admit that the +better adapted to its surroundings a living form may be, the more +likely it is to outbreed its compeers. The world at large, again, +needs not to be told that the normal course is not unfrequently +deflected through the fortunes of war; nevertheless, according to +Lamarckians and Erasmus-Darwinians, habitual effort, guided by ever- +growing intelligence--that is to say, by continued increase of power +in the matter of knowing our likes and dislikes--has been so much +the main factor throughout the course of organic development, that +the rest, though not lost sight of, may be allowed to go without +saying. According, on the other hand, to extreme Charles-Darwinians +and Weismannists, habit, effort and intelligence acquired during the +experience of any one life goes for nothing. Not even a little +fraction of it endures to the benefit of offspring. It dies with +him in whom it is acquired, and the heirs of a man's body take no +interest therein. To state this doctrine is to arouse instinctive +loathing; it is my fortunate task to maintain that such a nightmare +of waste and death is as baseless as it is repulsive. + +The split in biological opinion occasioned by the deadlock to which +Charles-Darwinism has been reduced, though comparatively recent, +widens rapidly. Ten years ago Lamarck's name was mentioned only as +a byword for extravagance; now, we cannot take up a number of Nature +without seeing how hot the contention is between his followers and +those of Weismann. This must be referred, as I implied earlier, to +growing perception that Mr. Darwin should either have gone farther +towards Lamarckism or not so far. In admitting use and disuse as +freely as he did, he gave Lamarckians leverage for the overthrow of +a system based ostensibly on the accumulation of fortunate +accidents. In assigning the lion's share of development to the +accumulation of fortunate accidents, he tempted fortuitists to try +to cut the ground from under Lamarck's feet by denying that the +effects of use and disuse can be inherited at all. When the public +had once got to understand what Lamarck had intended, and wherein +Mr. Charles Darwin had differed from him, it became impossible for +Charles-Darwinians to remain where they were, nor is it easy to see +what course was open to them except to cast about for a theory by +which they could get rid of use and disuse altogether. Weismannism, +therefore, is the inevitable outcome of the straits to which +Charles-Darwinians were reduced through the way in which their +leader had halted between two opinions. + +This is why Charles-Darwinians, from Professor Huxley downwards, +have kept the difference between Lamarck's opinions and those of Mr. +Darwin so much in the background. Unwillingness to make this +understood is nowhere manifested more clearly than in Dr. Francis +Darwin's life of his father. In this work Lamarck is sneered at +once or twice, and told to go away, but there is no attempt to state +the two cases side by side; from which, as from not a little else, I +conclude that Dr. Francis Darwin has descended from his father with +singularly little modification. + +Proceeding to the evidence for the transmissions of acquired habits, +I will quote two recently adduced examples from among the many that +have been credibly attested. The first was contributed to Nature +(March 14, 1889) by Professor Marcus M. Hartog, who wrote:- + +"A. B. is moderately myopic and very astigmatic in the left eye; +extremely myopic in the right. As the left eye gave such bad images +for near objects, he was compelled in childhood to mask it, and +acquired the habit of leaning his head on his left arm for writing, +so as to blind that eye, or of resting the left temple and eye on +the hand, with the elbow on the table. At the age of fifteen the +eyes were equalised by the use of suitable spectacles, and he soon +lost the habit completely and permanently. He is now the father of +two children, a boy and a girl, whose vision (tested repeatedly and +fully) is emmetropic in both eyes, so that they have not inherited +the congenital optical defect of their father. All the same, they +have both of them inherited his early acquired habit, and need +constant watchfulness to prevent their hiding the left eye when +writing, by resting the head on the left forearm or hand. Imitation +is here quite out of the question. + +"Considering that every habit involves changes in the proportional +development of the muscular and osseous systems, and hence probably +of the nervous system also, the importance of inherited habits, +natural or acquired, cannot be overlooked in the general theory of +inheritance. I am fully aware that I shall be accused of flat +Lamarckism, but a nickname is not an argument." + +To this Professor Ray Lankester rejoined (Nature, March 21, 1889):- + +"It is not unusual for children to rest the head on the left forearm +or hand when writing, and I doubt whether much value can be attached +to the case described by Professor Hartog. The kind of observation +which his letter suggests is, however, likely to lead to results +either for or against the transmission of acquired characters. An +old friend of mine lost his right arm when a schoolboy, and has ever +since written with his left. He has a large family and +grandchildren, but I have not heard of any of them showing a +disposition to left-handedness." + +From Nature (March 21, 1889) I take the second instance communicated +by Mr. J. Jenner-Weir, who wrote as follows:- + +"Mr. Marcus M. Hartog's letter of March 6th, inserted in last week's +number (p. 462), is a very valuable contribution to the growing +evidence that acquired characters may be inherited. I have long +held the view that such is often the case, and I have myself +observed several instances of the, at least I may say, apparent +fact. + +"Many years ago there was a very fine male of the Capra megaceros in +the gardens of the Zoological Society. To restrain this animal from +jumping over the fence of the enclosure in which he was confined, a +long, and heavy chain was attached to the collar round his neck. He +was constantly in the habit of taking this chain up by his horns and +moving it from one side to another over his back; in doing this he +threw his head very much back, his horns being placed in a line with +the back. The habit had become quite chronic with him, and was very +tiresome to look at. I was very much astonished to observe that his +offspring inherited the habit, and although it was not necessary to +attach a chain to their necks, I have often seen a young male +throwing his horns over his back and shifting from side to side an +imaginary chain. The action was exactly the same as that of his +ancestor. The case of the kid of this goat appears to me to be +parallel to that of child and parent given by Mr. Hartog. I think +at the time I made this observation I informed Mr. Darwin of the +fact by letter, and he did not accuse me of 'flat Lamarckism.'" + +To this letter there was no rejoinder. It may be said, of course, +that the action of the offspring in each of these cases was due to +accidental coincidence only. Anything can be said, but the question +turns not on what an advocate can say, but on what a reasonably +intelligent and disinterested jury will believe; granted they might +be mistaken in accepting the foregoing stories, but the world of +science, like that of commerce, is based on the faith or confidence, +which both creates and sustains them. Indeed the universe itself is +but the creature of faith, for assuredly we know of no other +foundation. There is nothing so generally and reasonably accepted-- +not even our own continued identity--but questions may be raised +about it that will shortly prove unanswerable. We cannot so test +every sixpence given us in change as to be sure that we never take a +bad one, and had better sometimes be cheated than reduce caution to +an absurdity. Moreover, we have seen from the evidence given in my +preceding article that the germ-cells issuing from a parent's body +can, and do, respond to profound impressions made on the somatic- +cells. This being so, what impressions are more profound, what +needs engage more assiduous attention than those connected with +self-protection, the procuring of food, and the continuation of the +species? If the mere anxiety connected with an ill-healing wound +inflicted on but one generation is sometimes found to have so +impressed the germ-cells that they hand down its scars to offspring, +how much more shall not anxieties that have directed action of all +kinds from birth till death, not in one generation only but in a +longer series of generations than the mind can realise to itself, +modify, and indeed control, the organisation of every species? + +I see Professor S. H. Vines, in the article on Weismann's theory +referred to in my preceding article, says Mr. Darwin "held that it +was not the sudden variations due to altered external conditions +which become permanent, but those slowly produced by what he termed +'the accumulative action of changed conditions of life.'" Nothing +can be more soundly Lamarckian, and nothing should more conclusively +show that, whatever else Mr. Darwin was, he was not a Charles- +Darwinian; but what evidence other than inferential can from the +nature of the case be adduced in support of this, as I believe, +perfectly correct judgment? None know better than they who clamour +for direct evidence that their master was right in taking the +position assigned to him by Professor Vines, that they cannot +reasonably look for it. With us, as with themselves, modification +proceeds very gradually, and it violates our principles as much as +their own to expect visible permanent progress, in any single +generation, or indeed in any number of generations of wild species +which we have yet had time to observe. Occasionally we can find +such cases, as in that of Branchipus stagnalis, quoted by Mr. +Wallace, or in that of the New Zealand Kea whose skin, I was assured +by the late Sir Julius von Haast, has already been modified as a +consequence of its change of food. Here we can show that in even a +few generations structure is modified under changed conditions of +existence, but as we believe these cases to occur comparatively +rarely, so it is still more rarely that they occur when and where we +can watch them. Nature is eminently conservative, and fixity of +type, even under considerable change of conditions, is surely more +important for the well-being of any species than an over-ready power +of adaptation to, it may be, passing changes. There could be no +steady progress if each generation were not mainly bound by the +traditions of those that have gone before it. It is evolution and +not incessant revolution that both parties are upholding; and this +being so, rapid visible modification must be the exception, not the +rule. I have quoted direct evidence adduced by competent observers, +which is, I believe, sufficient to establish the fact that offspring +can be and is sometimes modified by the acquired habits of a +progenitor. I will now proceed to the still more, as it appears to +me, cogent proof afforded by general considerations. + +What, let me ask, are the principal phenomena of heredity? There +must be physical continuity between parent, or parents, and +offspring, so that the offspring is, as Erasmus Darwin well said, a +kind of elongation of the life of the parent. + +Erasmus Darwin put the matter so well that I may as well give his +words in full; he wrote:- + +"Owing to the imperfection of language the offspring is termed a new +animal, but is in truth a branch or elongation of the parent, since +a part of the embryon animal is, or was, a part of the parent, and +therefore, in strict language, cannot be said to be entirely new at +the time of its production; and therefore it may retain some of the +habits of the parent system. + +"At the earliest period of its existence the embryon would seem to +consist of a living filament with certain capabilities of +irritation, sensation, volition, and association, and also with some +acquired habits or propensities peculiar to the parent; the former +of these are in common with other animals; the latter seem to +distinguish or produce the kind of animal, whether man or quadruped, +with the similarity of feature or form to the parent." {39} + +Those who accept evolution insist on unbroken physical continuity +between the earliest known life and ourselves, so that we both are +and are not personally identical with the unicellular organism from +which we have descended in the course of many millions of years, +exactly in the same way as an octogenarian both is and is not +personally identical with the microscopic impregnate ovum from which +he grew up. Everything both is and is not. There is no such thing +as strict identity between any two things in any two consecutive +seconds. In strictness they are identical and yet not identical, so +that in strictness they violate a fundamental rule of strictness-- +namely, that a thing shall never be itself and not itself at one and +the same time; we must choose between logic and dealing in a +practical spirit with time and space; it is not surprising, +therefore, that logic, in spite of the show of respect outwardly +paid to her, is told to stand aside when people come to practice. +In practice identity is generally held to exist where continuity is +only broken slowly and piecemeal, nevertheless, that occasional +periods of even rapid change are not held to bar identity, appears +from the fact that no one denies this to hold between the +microscopically small impregnate ovum and the born child that +springs from it, nor yet, therefore, between the impregnate ovum and +the octogenarian into which the child grows; for both ovum and +octogenarian are held personally identical with the newborn baby, +and things that are identical with the same are identical with one +another. + +The first, then, and most important element of heredity is that +there should be unbroken continuity, and hence sameness of +personality, between parents and offspring, in neither more nor less +than the same sense as that in which any other two personalities are +said to be the same. The repetition, therefore, of its +developmental stages by any offspring must be regarded as something +which the embryo repeating them has already done once, in the person +of one or other parent; and if once, then, as many times as there +have been generations between any given embryo now repeating it, and +the point in life from which we started--say, for example, the +amoeba. In the case of asexually and sexually produced organisms +alike, the offspring must be held to continue the personality of the +parent or parents, and hence on the occasion of every fresh +development, to be repeating something which in the person of its +parent or parents it has done once, and if once, then any number of +times, already. + +It is obvious, therefore, that the germ-plasm (or whatever the fancy +word for it may be) of any one generation is as physically identical +with the germ-plasm of its predecessor as any two things can be. +The difference between Professor Weismann and, we will say, +Heringians consists in the fact that the first maintains the new +germ-plasm when on the point of repeating its developmental +processes to take practically no cognisance of anything that has +happened to it since the last occasion on which it developed itself; +while the latter maintain that offspring takes much the same kind of +account of what has happened to it in the persons of its parents +since the last occasion on which it developed itself, as people in +ordinary life take of things that happen to them. In daily life +people let fairly normal circumstances come and go without much heed +as matters of course. If they have been lucky they make a note of +it and try to repeat their success. If they have been unfortunate +but have recovered rapidly they soon forget it; if they have +suffered long and deeply they grizzle over it and are scared and +scarred by it for a long time. The question is one of cognisance or +non-cognisance on the part of the new germs, of the more profound +impressions made on them while they were one with their parents, +between the occasion of their last preceding development, and the +new course on which they are about to enter. Those who accept the +theory put forward independently by Professor Hering of Prague +(whose work on this subject is translated in my book, "Unconscious +Memory") {40} and by myself in "Life and Habit," {41} believe in +cognizance, as do Lamarckians generally. Weismannites, and with +them the orthodoxy of English science, find non-cognisance more +acceptable. + +If the Heringian view is accepted, that heredity is only a mode of +memory, and an extension of memory from one generation to another, +then the repetition of its development by any embryo thus becomes +only the repetition of a lesson learned by rote; and, as I have +elsewhere said, our view of life is simplified by finding that it is +no longer an equation of, say, a hundred unknown quantities, but of +ninety-nine only, inasmuch as two of the unknown quantities prove to +be substantially identical. In this case the inheritance of +acquired characteristics cannot be disputed, for it is postulated in +the theory that each embryo takes note of, remembers and is guided +by the profounder impressions made upon it while in the persons of +its parents, between its present and last preceding development. To +maintain this is to maintain use and disuse to be the main factors +throughout organic development; to deny it is to deny that use and +disuse can have any conceivable effect. For the detailed reasons +which led me to my own conclusions I must refer the reader to my +books, "Life and Habit" {42} and "Unconscious Memory," {42} the +conclusions of which have been often adopted, but never, that I have +seen, disputed. A brief resume of the leading points in the +argument is all that space will here allow me to give. + +We have seen that it is a first requirement of heredity that there +shall be physical continuity between parents and offspring. This +holds good with memory. There must be continued identity between +the person remembering and the person to whom the thing that is +remembered happened. We cannot remember things that happened to +some one else, and in our absence. We can only remember having +heard of them. We have seen, however, that there is as much bona- +fide sameness of personality between parents and offspring up to the +time at which the offspring quits the parent's body, as there is +between the different states of the parent himself at any two +consecutive moments; the offspring therefore, being one and the same +person with its progenitors until it quits them, can be held to +remember what happened to them within, of course, the limitations to +which all memory is subject, as much as the progenitors can remember +what happened earlier to themselves. Whether it does so remember +can only be settled by observing whether it acts as living beings +commonly do when they are acting under guidance of memory. I will +endeavour to show that, though heredity and habit based on memory go +about in different dresses, yet if we catch them separately--for +they are never seen together--and strip them there is not a mole nor +strawberry-mark, nor trick nor leer of the one, but we find it in +the other also. + +What are the moles and strawberry-marks of habitual action, or +actions remembered and thus repeated? First, the more often we +repeat them the more easily and unconsciously we do them. Look at +reading, writing, walking, talking, playing the piano, &c.; the +longer we have practised any one of these acquired habits, the more +easily, automatically and unconsciously, we perform it. Look, on +the other hand, broadly, at the three points to which I called +attention in "Life and Habit":- + +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 eating +and drinking [provided the food be normal], 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. + +III. That we are most unconscious of and have least control over +our digestion and circulation--powers possessed even by our +invertebrate ancestry, and, geologically speaking, of extreme +antiquity. + +I have put the foregoing very broadly, but enough is given to show +the reader the gist of the argument. Let it be noted that +disturbance and departure, to any serious extent, from normal +practice tends to induce resumption of consciousness even in the +case of such old habits as breathing, seeing, and hearing, digestion +and the circulation of the blood. So it is with habitual actions in +general. Let a player be never so proficient on any instrument, he +will be put out if the normal conditions under which he plays are +too widely departed from, and will then do consciously, if indeed he +can do it at all, what he had hitherto been doing unconsciously. It +is an axiom as regards actions acquired after birth, that we never +do them automatically save as the result of long practice; the +stages in the case of any acquired facility, the inception of which +we have been able to watch, have invariably been from a nothingness +of ignorant impotence to a little somethingness of highly self- +conscious, arduous performance, and thence to the +unselfconsciousness of easy mastery. I saw one year a poor blind +lad of about eighteen sitting on a wall by the wayside at Varese, +playing the concertina with his whole body, and snorting like a +child. The next year the boy no longer snorted, and he played with +his fingers only; the year after that he seemed hardly to know +whether he was playing or not, it came so easily to him. I know no +exception to this rule. Where is the intricate and at one time +difficult art in which perfect automatic ease has been reached +except as the result of long practice? If, then, wherever we can +trace the development of automatism we find it to have taken this +course, is it not most reasonable to infer that it has taken the +same even when it has risen in regions that are beyond our ken? +Ought we not, whenever we see a difficult action performed, +automatically to suspect antecedent practice? Granted that without +the considerations in regard to identity presented above it would +not have been easy to see where a baby of a day old could have had +the practice which enables it to do as much as it does +unconsciously, but even without these considerations it would have +been more easy to suppose that the necessary opportunities had not +been wanting, than that the easy performance could have been gained +without practice and memory. + +When I wrote "Life and Habit" (originally published in 1877) I said +in slightly different words:- + +"Shall we say 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 any one had discovered oxygen--sees +and hears, operations that involve an unconscious knowledge of the +facts concerning optics and acoustics compared with which the +conscious discoveries of Newton are insignificant--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 give them attention, and yet +without mistake, and shall we also say at the same time that it has +not learnt to do them, and never did them before? + +"Such an assertion would contradict the whole experience of +mankind." + +I have met with nothing during the thirteen years since the +foregoing was published that has given me any qualms about its +soundness. From the point of view of the law courts and everyday +life it is, of course, nonsense; but in the kingdom of thought, as +in that of heaven, there are many mansions, and what would be +extravagance in the cottage or farmhouse, as it were, of daily +practice, is but common decency in the palace of high philosophy, +wherein dwells evolution. If we leave evolution alone, we may stick +to common practice and the law courts; touch evolution and we are in +another world; not higher, not lower, but different as harmony from +counterpoint. As, however, in the most absolute counterpoint there +is still harmony, and in the most absolute harmony still +counterpoint, so high philosophy should be still in touch with +common sense, and common sense with high philosophy. + +The common-sense view of the matter to people who are not over- +curious and to whom time is money, will be that a baby is not a baby +until it is born, and that when born it should be born in wedlock. +Nevertheless, as a sop to high philosophy, every baby is allowed to +be the offspring of its father and mother. + +The high-philosophy view of the matter is that every human being is +still but a fresh edition of the primordial cell with the latest +additions and corrections; there has been no leap nor break in +continuity anywhere; the man of to-day is the primordial cell of +millions of years ago as truly as he is the himself of yesterday; he +can only be denied to be the one on grounds that will prove him not +to be the other. Every one is both himself and all his direct +ancestors and descendants as well; therefore, if we would be +logical, he is one also with all his cousins, no matter how distant, +for he and they are alike identical with the primordial cell, and we +have already noted it as an axiom that things which are identical +with the same are identical with one another. This is practically +making him one with all living things, whether animal or vegetable, +that ever have existed or ever will--something of all which may have +been in the mind of Sophocles when he wrote:- + + +"Nor seest thou yet the gathering hosts of ill +That shall en-one thee both with thine own self +And with thine offspring." + + +And all this has come of admitting that a man may be the same person +for two days running! As for sopping common sense it will be enough +to say that these remarks are to be taken in a strictly scientific +sense, and have no appreciable importance as regards life and +conduct. True they deal with the foundations on which all life and +conduct are based, but like other foundations they are hidden out of +sight, and the sounder they are, the less we trouble ourselves about +them. + +What other main common features between heredity and memory may we +note besides the fact that neither can exist without that kind of +physical continuity which we call personal identity? First, the +development of the embryo proceeds in an established order; so must +all habitual actions based on memory. Disturb the normal order and +the performance is arrested. The better we know "God save the +Queen," the less easily can we play or sing it backwards. The +return of memory again depends on the return of ideas associated +with the particular thing that is remembered--we remember nothing +but for the presence of these, and when enough of these are +presented to us we remember everything. So, if the development of +an embryo is due to memory, we should suppose the memory of the +impregnate ovum to revert not to yesterday, when it was in the +persons of its parents, but to the last occasion on which it was an +impregnate ovum. The return of the old environment and the presence +of old associations would at once involve recollection of the course +that should be next taken, and the same should happen throughout the +whole course of development. The actual course of development +presents precisely the phenomena agreeable with this. For fuller +treatment of this point I must refer the reader to the chapter on +the abeyance of memory in my book "Life and Habit," already referred +to. + +Secondly, we remember best our last few performances of any given +kind, so our present performance will probably resemble some one or +other of these; we remember our earlier performances by way of +residuum only, but every now and then we revert to an earlier habit. +This feature of memory is manifested in heredity by the way in which +offspring commonly resembles most its nearer ancestors, but +sometimes reverts to earlier ones. Brothers and sisters, each as it +were giving their own version of the same story, but in different +words, should generally resemble each other more closely than more +distant relations. And this is what actually we find. + +Thirdly, the introduction of slightly new elements into a method +already established varies it beneficially; the new is soon fused +with the old, and the monotony ceases to be oppressive. But if the +new be too foreign, we cannot fuse the old and the new--nature +seeming to hate equally too wide a deviation from ordinary practice +and none at all. This fact reappears in heredity as the beneficial +effects of occasional crossing on the one hand, and on the other, in +the generally observed sterility of hybrids. If heredity be an +affair of memory, how can an embryo, say of a mule, be expected to +build up a mule on the strength of but two mule-memories? Hybridism +causes a fault in the chain of memory, and it is to this cause that +the usual sterility of hybrids must be referred. + +Fourthly, it requires many repeated impressions to fix a method +firmly, but when it has been engrained into us we cease to have much +recollection of the manner in which it came to be so, or indeed of +any individual repetition, but sometimes a single impression, if +prolonged as well as profound, produces a lasting impression and is +liable to return with sudden force, and then to go on returning to +us at intervals. As a general rule, however, abnormal impressions +cannot long hold their own against the overwhelming preponderance of +normal authority. This appears in heredity as the normal non- +inheritance of mutilations on the one hand, and on the other as +their occasional inheritance in the case of injuries followed by +disease. + +Fifthly, if heredity and memory are essentially the same, we should +expect that no animal would develop new structures of importance +after the age at which its species begins ordinarily to continue its +race; for we cannot suppose offspring to remember anything that +happens to the parent subsequently to the parent's ceasing to +contain the offspring within itself. From the average age, +therefore, of reproduction, offspring should cease to have any +farther steady, continuous memory to fall back upon; what memory +there is should be full of faults, and as such unreliable. An +organism ought to develop as long as it is backed by memory--that is +to say, until the average age at which reproduction begins; it +should then continue to go for a time on the impetus already +received, and should eventually decay through failure of any memory +to support it, and tell it what to do. This corresponds absolutely +with what we observe in organisms generally, and explains, on the +one hand, why the age of puberty marks the beginning of completed +development--a riddle hitherto not only unexplained but, so far as I +have seen, unasked; it explains, on the other hand, the phenomena of +old age--hitherto without even attempt at explanation. + +Sixthly, those organisms that are the longest in reaching maturity +should on the average be the longest-lived, for they will have +received the most momentous impulse from the weight of memory behind +them. This harmonises with the latest opinion as to the facts. In +his article on Weismann in the Contemporary Review for May 1890, Mr. +Romanes writes: "Professor Weismann has shown that there is +throughout the metazoa a general correlation between the natural +lifetime of individuals composing any given species, and the age at +which they reach maturity or first become capable of procreation." +This, I believe, has been the conclusion generally arrived at by +biologists for some years past. + +Lateness, then, in the average age of reproduction appears to be the +principle underlying longevity. There does not appear at first +sight to be much connection between such distinct and apparently +disconnected phenomena as 1, the orderly normal progress of +development; 2, atavism and the resumption of feral characteristics; +3, the more ordinary resemblance inter se of nearer relatives; 4, +the benefit of an occasional cross, and the usual sterility of +hybrids; 5, the unconsciousness with which alike bodily development +and ordinary physiological functions proceed, so long as they are +normal; 6, the ordinary non-inheritance, but occasional inheritance +of mutilations; 7, the fact that puberty indicates the approach of +maturity; 8, the phenomena of middle life and old age; 9, the +principle underlying longevity. These phenomena have no conceivable +bearing on one another until heredity and memory are regarded as +part of the same story. Identify these two things, and I know no +phenomenon of heredity that does not immediately become infinitely +more intelligible. Is it conceivable that a theory which harmonises +so many facts hitherto regarded as without either connection or +explanation should not deserve at any rate consideration from those +who profess to take an interest in biology? + +It is not as though the theory were unknown, or had been condemned +by our leading men of science. Professor Ray Lankester introduced +it to English readers in an appreciative notice of Professor +Hering's address, which appeared in Nature, July 18, 1876. He wrote +to the Athenaeum, March 24, 1884, and claimed credit for having done +so, but I do not believe he has ever said more in public about it +than what I have here referred to. Mr. Romanes did indeed try to +crush it in Nature, January 27, 1881, but in 1883, in his "Mental +Evolution in Animals," he adopted its main conclusion without +acknowledgment. The Athenaeum, to my unbounded surprise, called him +to task for this (March 1, 1884), and since that time he has given +the Heringian theory a sufficiently wide berth. Mr. Wallace showed +himself favourably enough disposed towards the view that heredity +and memory are part of the same story when he reviewed my book "Life +and Habit" in Nature, March 27, 1879, but he has never since +betrayed any sign of being aware that such a theory existed. Mr. +Herbert Spencer wrote to the Athenaeum (April 5, 1884), and claimed +the theory for himself, but, in spite of his doing this, he has +never, that I have seen, referred to the matter again. I have dealt +sufficiently with his claim in my book, "Luck or Cunning." {43} +Lastly, Professor Hering himself has never that I know of touched +his own theory since the single short address read in 1870, and +translated by me in 1881. Every one, even its originator, except +myself, seems afraid to open his mouth about it. Of course the +inference suggests itself that other people have more sense than I +have. I readily admit it; but why have so many of our leaders shown +such a strong hankering after the theory, if there is nothing in it? + +The deadlock that I have pointed out as existing in Darwinism will, +I doubt not, lead ere long to a consideration of Professor Hering's +theory. English biologists are little likely to find Weismann +satisfactory for long, and if he breaks down there is nothing left +for them but Lamarck, supplemented by the important and elucidatory +corollary on his theory proposed by Professor Hering. When the time +arrives for this to obtain a hearing it will be confirmed, +doubtless, by arguments clearer and more forcible than any I have +been able to adduce; I shall then be delighted to resign the +championship which till then I shall continue, as for some years +past, to have much pleasure in sustaining. Heretofore my +satisfaction has mainly lain in the fact that more of our prominent +men of science have seemed anxious to claim the theory than to +refute it; in the confidence thus engendered I leave it to any +fuller consideration which the outline I have above given may +incline the reader to bestow upon it. + + + +Footnotes: + +{1} Published in the Universal Review, July 1888. + +{2} Published in the Universal Review, December 1890. + +{3} Published in the Universal Review, May 1889. As I have several +times been asked if the letters here reprinted were not fabricated +by Butler himself, I take this opportunity of stating that they are +authentic in every particular, and that the originals are now in my +possession.--R. A. S. + +{4} An address delivered at the Somerville Club, February 27, 1895. + +{5} "The Foundations of Belief," by the Right Hon. A. J. Balfour. +Longmans, 1895, p. 48. + +{6} Published in the Universal Review, November 1888. + +{7} Since this essay was written it has been ascertained by +Cavaliere Francesco Negri, of Casale Monferrato, that Tabachetti +died in 1615. If, therefore, the Sanctuary of Montrigone was not +founded until 1631, it is plain that Tabachetti cannot have worked +there. All the latest discoveries about Tabachetti's career will be +found in Cavaliere Negri's pamphlet "Il Santuario di Crea" +(Alessandria, 1902). See also note on p. 154.--R. A. S. + +{8} Published in the Universal Review, December 1889. + +{9} Longmans & Co., 1890. + +{10} Longmans & Co., 1890. + +{11} Published in the Universal Review, November 1890. + +{12} Longmans & Co., 1890. + +{13} M. Ruppen's words run: "1687 wurde die Kapelle zur hohen +Stiege gebaut, 1747 durch Zusatz vergrossert und 1755 mit Orgeln +ausgestattet. Anton Ruppen, ein geschickter Steinhauer mid +Maurermeister leitete den Kapellebau, und machte darin das kleinere +Altarlein. Bei der hohen Stiege war fruher kein Gebetshauslein; nur +ein wunderthatiges Bildlein der Mutter Gottes stand da in einer +Mauer vor dem fromme Hirten und viel andachtiges Volk unter freiem +Himmel beteten. + +"1709 wurden die kleinen Kapellelein die 15 Geheimnisse des Psalters +vorstelland auf dem Wege zur hohen Stiege gebaut. Jeder Haushalter +des Viertels Fee ubernahm den Bau eines dieser Geheimnisskapellen, +und ein besonderer Gutthater dieser frommen Unternehmung war +Heinrich Andenmatten, nachher Bruder der Geselischaft Jesu." + +{14} The story of Tabachetti's incarceration is very doubtful. +Cavaliere F. Negri, to whose book on Tabachetti and his work at Crea +I have already referred the reader, does not mention it. Tabachetti +left his native Dinant in 1585, and from that date until his death +in 1615 he appears to have worked chiefly at Varallo and Crea. +There is a document in existence stating that in 1588 he executed a +statue for the hermitage of S. Rocco, at Crea, which, if it is to be +relied on, disposes both of the incarceration and of the visit to +Saas. It is possible, however, that the date is 1598, in which case +Butler's theory of the visit to Saas may hold good. In 1590 +Tabachetti was certainly at Varallo, and again in 1594, 1599, and +1602. He died in 1615, possibly during a visit to Varallo, though +his home at that time was Costigliole, near Asti.--R. A. S. + +{15} This is thus chronicled by M. Ruppen: "1589 den 9 September +war eine Wassergrosse, die viel Schaden verursachte. Die +Thalstrasse, die von den Steinmatten an bis zur Kirche am Ufer der +Visp lag, wurde ganz zerstort. Man ward gezwungen eine neue Strasse +in einiger Entfernung vom Wasser durch einen alten Fussweg +auszuhauen welche vier und einerhalben Viertel der Klafter, oder 6 +Schuh und 9 Zoll breit soilte." (p. 43). + +{16} A lecture delivered at the Working Men's College in Great +Ormond Street, March 15, 1890; rewritten and delivered again at the +Somerville Club, February 13, 1894. + +{17} "Correlation of Forces": Longmans, 1874, p. 15. + +{18} "Three Lectures on the Science of Language," Longmans, 1889, +p. 4. + +{19} "Science of Thought," Longmans, 1887, p. 9. + +{20} Published in the Universal Review, April, May, and June 1890. + +{21} "Voyages of the Adventure and Beagle," iii. p. 237. + +{22} "Luck, or Cunning, as the main means of Organic Modification?" +(Longmans), pp. 179, 180. + +{23} Journals of the Proceedings of the Linnean Society (Zoology, +vol. iii.), 1859, p. 61. + +{24} "Darwinism" (Macmillan, 1889), p. 129. + +{25} Longmans, 1890, p. 376. + +{26} See Nature, March 6, 1890. + +{27} "Origin of Species," sixth edition, 1888, vol. i. p. 168. + +{28} "Origin of Species," sixth edition, 1888, vol. ii. p. 261. + +{29} Mr. J. T. Cunningham, of the Marine Biological Laboratory, +Plymouth, has called my attention to the fact that I have ascribed +to Professor Ray Lankester a criticism on Mr. Wallace's remarks upon +the eyes of certain fiat-fish, which Professor Ray Lankester was, in +reality, only adopting--with full acknowledgment--from Mr. +Cunningham. Mr. Cunningham has left it to me whether to correct my +omission publicly or not, but he would so plainly prefer my doing so +that I consider myself bound to insert this note. Curiously enough +I find that in my book "Evolution Old and New," I gave what Lamarck +actually said upon the eyes of flat-fish, and having been led to +return to the subject, I may as well quote his words. He wrote:- + +"Need--always occasioned by the circumstances in which an animal is +placed, and followed by sustained efforts at gratification--can not +only modify an organ--that is to say, augment or reduce it--but can +change its position when the case requires its removal. + +"Ocean fishes have occasion to see what is on either side of them, +and have their eyes accordingly placed on either side of their head. +Some fishes, however, have their abode near coasts on submarine +banks and inclinations, and are thus forced to flatten themselves as +much as possible in order to get as near as they can to the shore. +In this situation they receive more light from above than from +below, and find it necessary to pay attention to whatever happens to +be above them; this need has involved the displacement of their +eyes, which now take the remarkable position which we observe in the +case of soles, turbots, plaice, &c. The transfer of position is not +even yet complete in the case of these fishes, and the eyes are not, +therefore, symmetrically placed; but they are so with the skate, +whose head and whole body are equally disposed on either side a +longitudinal section. Hence the eyes of this fish are placed +symmetrically upon the uppermost side."--Philosophie Zoologique, +tom. i., pp. 250, 251. Edition C. Martins. Paris, 1873. + +{30} "Essays on Heredity," &c., Oxford, 1889, p. 171. + +{31} "Essays on Heredity," &c., Oxford, 1889, p. 266. + +{32} "Darwinism," 1889, p. 440. + +{33} Page 83. + +{34} Vol. i. p. 466, &c. Ed. 1885. + +{35} "Darwinism," p. 440. + +{36} Longmans, 1890. + +{37} Tom. iv. p. 383. Ed. 1753. + +{38} Essays, &c., p. 447. + +{39} "Zoonomia," 1794, vol. i. p. 480. + +{40} Longmans, 1890. + +{41} Longmans, 1890. + +{42} Longmans, 1890. + +{43} Longmans, 1890. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext Essays on Life, Art and Science, by Butler + diff --git a/old/esslf10.zip b/old/esslf10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4aaae83 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/esslf10.zip |