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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Life and Habit, by Samuel Butler
+(#13 in our series by Samuel Butler)
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+Title: Life and Habit
+
+Author: Samuel Butler
+
+Release Date: July, 2004  [EBook #6138]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on November 18, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LIFE AND HABIT ***
+
+
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1910 Jonathan Cape edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+
+
+
+
+LIFE AND HABIT
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE
+
+
+
+Since Samuel Butler published "Life and Habit" thirty-three {1} years
+have elapsed--years fruitful in change and discovery, during which
+many of the mighty have been put down from their seat and many of the
+humble have been exalted.  I do not know that Butler can truthfully
+be called humble, indeed, I think he had very few misgivings as to
+his ultimate triumph, but he has certainly been exalted with a
+rapidity that he himself can scarcely have foreseen.  During his
+lifetime he was a literary pariah, the victim of an organized
+conspiracy of silence.  He is now, I think it may be said without
+exaggeration, universally accepted as one of the most remarkable
+English writers of the latter part of the nineteenth century.  I will
+not weary my readers by quoting the numerous tributes paid by
+distinguished contemporary writers to Butler's originality and force
+of mind, but I cannot refrain from illustrating the changed attitude
+of the scientific world to Butler and his theories by a reference to
+"Darwin and Modern Science," the collection of essays published in
+1909 by the University of Cambridge, in commemoration of the Darwin
+centenary.  In that work Professor Bateson, while referring
+repeatedly to Butler's biological works, speaks of him as "the most
+brilliant and by far the most interesting of Darwin's opponents,
+whose works are at length emerging from oblivion."  With the growth
+of Butler's reputation "Life and Habit" has had much to do.  It was
+the first and is undoubtedly the most important of his writings on
+evolution.  From its loins, as it were, sprang his three later books,
+"Evolution Old and New," "Unconscious Memory," and "Luck or Cunning",
+which carried its arguments further afield.  It will perhaps interest
+Butler's readers if I here quote a passage from his note-books,
+lately published in the "New Quarterly Review" (Vol. III. No. 9), in
+which he summarizes his work in biology:
+
+"To me it seems that my contributions to the theory of evolution have
+been mainly these
+
+"1.  The identification of heredity and memory, and the corollaries
+relating to sports, the reversion to remote ancestors, the phenomena
+of old age, the causes of the sterility of hybrids, and the
+principles underlying longevity--all of which follow as a matter of
+course.  This was 'Life and Habit' [1877].
+
+"2.  The re-introduction of teleology into organic life, which to me
+seems hardly, if at all, less important than the 'Life and Habit'
+theory.  This was 'Evolution Old and New' [1879].
+
+"3.  An attempt to suggest an explanation of the physics of memory.
+This was Unconscious Memory' [1880].  I was alarmed by the suggestion
+and fathered it upon Professor Hering, who never, that I can see,
+meant to say anything of the kind, but I forced my view upon him, as
+it were, by taking hold of a sentence or two in his lecture, 'On
+Memory as a Universal Function of Organised Matter,' and thus
+connected memory with vibrations.
+
+"What I want to do now (1885) is to connect vibrations not only with
+memory but with the physical constitution of that body in which the
+memory resides, thus adopting Newland's law (sometimes called
+Mendelejeff's law) that there is only one substance, and that the
+characteristics of the vibrations going on within it at any given
+time will determine whether it will appear to us as, we will say,
+hydrogen, or sodium, or chicken doing this, or chicken doing the
+other."  [This is touched upon in the concluding chapter of "Luck or
+Cunning?" 1887].
+
+The present edition of "Life and Habit" is practically a re-issue of
+that of 1878.  I find that about the year 1890, although the original
+edition was far from being exhausted, Butler began to make
+corrections of the text of "Life and Habit," presumably with the
+intention of publishing a revised edition.  The copy of the book so
+corrected is now in my possession.  In the first five chapters there
+are numerous emendations, very few of which, however, affect the
+meaning to any appreciable extent, being mainly concerned with the
+excision of redundancies and the simplification of style.  I imagine
+that by the time he had reached the end of the fifth chapter Butler
+realised that the corrections he had made were not of sufficient
+importance to warrant a new edition, and determined to let the book
+stand as it was.  I believe, therefore, that I am carrying out his
+wishes in reprinting the present edition from the original plates.  I
+have found, however, among his papers three entirely new passages,
+which he probably wrote during the period of correction and no doubt
+intended to incorporate into the revised edition.  Mr. Henry Festing
+Jones has also given me a copy of a passage which Butler wrote and
+gummed into Mr. Jones's copy of "Life and Habit."  These four
+passages I have printed as an appendix at the end of the present
+volume.
+
+One more point deserves notice.  Butler often refers in "Life and
+Habit" to Darwin's "Variations of Animals and Plants under
+Domestication."  When he does so it is always under the name "Plants
+and Animals."  More often still he refers to Darwin's "Origin of
+Species by means Natural Selection," terming it at one time "Origin
+of Species" and at another "Natural Selection," sometimes, as on p.
+278, using both names within a few lines of each other.  Butler was
+as a rule scrupulously careful about quotations, and I can offer no
+explanation of this curious confusion of titles.
+
+R. A. STREATFEILD.
+November, 1910.
+
+
+
+AUTHOR'S PREFACE
+
+
+
+The Italics in the passages quoted in this book are generally mine,
+but I found it almost impossible to call the reader's attention to
+this upon every occasion.  I have done so once or twice, as thinking
+it necessary in these cases that there should be no mistake; on the
+whole, however, I thought it better to content myself with calling
+attention in a preface to the fact that the author quoted is not, as
+a general rule, responsible for the Italics.
+
+S. BUTLER.
+November 13, 1877.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I--ON CERTAIN ACQUIRED HABITS
+
+
+
+It will be our business in the following chapters to consider whether
+the unconsciousness, or quasi-unconsciousness, with which we perform
+certain acquired actions, would seem to throw any light upon
+Embryology and inherited instincts, and otherwise to follow the train
+of thought which the class of actions above-mentioned would suggest;
+more especially in so far as they appear to bear upon the origin of
+species and the continuation of life by successive generations,
+whether in the animal or vegetable kingdoms.
+
+In the outset, however, I would wish most distinctly to disclaim for
+these pages the smallest pretension to scientific value, originality,
+or even to accuracy of more than a very rough and ready kind--for
+unless a matter be true enough to stand a good deal of
+misrepresentation, its truth is not of a very robust order, and the
+blame will rather lie with its own delicacy if it be crushed, than
+with the carelessness of the crusher.  I have no wish to instruct,
+and not much to be instructed; my aim is simply to entertain and
+interest the numerous class of people who, like myself, know nothing
+of science, but who enjoy speculating and reflecting (not too deeply)
+upon the phenomena around them.  I have therefore allowed myself a
+loose rein, to run on with whatever came uppermost, without regard to
+whether it was new or old; feeling sure that if true, it must be very
+old or it never could have occurred to one so little versed in
+science as myself; and knowing that it is sometimes pleasanter to
+meet the old under slightly changed conditions, than to go through
+the formalities and uncertainties of making new acquaintance.  At the
+same time, I should say that whatever I have knowingly taken from any
+one else, I have always acknowledged.
+
+It is plain, therefore, that my book cannot be intended for the
+perusal of scientific people; it is intended for the general public
+only, with whom I believe myself to be in harmony, as knowing neither
+much more nor much less than they do.
+
+Taking then, the art of playing the piano as an example of the kind
+of action we are in search of, we observe that a practised player
+will perform very difficult pieces apparently without effort, often,
+indeed, while thinking and talking of something quite other than his
+music; yet he will play accurately and, possibly, with much
+expression.  If he has been playing a fugue, say in four parts, he
+will have kept each part well distinct, in such a manner as to prove
+that his mind was not prevented, by its other occupations, from
+consciously or unconsciously following four distinct trains of
+musical thought at the same time, nor from making his fingers act in
+exactly the required manner as regards each note of each part.
+
+It commonly happens that in the course of four or five minutes a
+player may have struck four or five thousand notes.  If we take into
+consideration the rests, dotted notes, accidentals, variations of
+time, &c., we shall find his attention must have been exercised on
+many more occasions than when he was actually striking notes:  so
+that it may not be too much to say that the attention of a first-rate
+player may have been exercised--to an infinitesimally small extent--
+but still truly exercised--on as many as ten thousand occasions
+within the space of five minutes, for no note can be struck nor point
+attended to without a certain amount of attention, no matter how
+rapidly or unconsciously given.
+
+Moreover, each act of attention has been followed by an act of
+volition, and each act of volition by a muscular action, which is
+composed of many minor actions; some so small that we can no more
+follow them than the player himself can perceive them; nevertheless,
+it may have been perfectly plain that the player was not attending to
+what he was doing, but was listening to conversation on some other
+subject, not to say joining in it himself.  If he has been playing
+the violin, he may have done all the above, and may also have been
+walking about.  Herr Joachim would unquestionably be able to do all
+that has here been described.
+
+So complete would the player's unconsciousness of the attention he is
+giving, and the brain power he is exerting appear to be, that we
+shall find it difficult to awaken his attention to any particular
+part of his performance without putting him out.  Indeed we cannot do
+so.  We shall observe that he finds it hardly less difficult to
+compass a voluntary consciousness of what he has once learnt so
+thoroughly that it has passed, so to speak, into the domain of
+unconsciousness, than he found it to learn the note or passage in the
+first instance.  The effort after a second consciousness of detail
+baffles him--compels him to turn to his music or play slowly.  In
+fact it seems as though he knew the piece too well to be able to know
+that he knows it, and is only conscious of knowing those passages
+which he does not know so thoroughly.
+
+At the end of his performance, his memory would appear to be no less
+annihilated than was his consciousness of attention and volition.
+For of the thousands of acts requiring the exercise of both the one
+and the other, which he has done during the five minutes, we will
+say, of his performance, he will remember hardly one when it is over.
+If he calls to mind anything beyond the main fact that he has played
+such and such a piece, it will probably be some passage which he has
+found more difficult than the others, and with the like of which he
+has not been so long familiar.  All the rest he will forget as
+completely as the breath which he has drawn while playing.
+
+He finds it difficult to remember even the difficulties he
+experienced in learning to play.  A few may have so impressed him
+that they remain with him, but the greater part will have escaped him
+as completely as the remembrance of what he ate, or how he put on his
+clothes, this day ten years ago; nevertheless, it is plain he
+remembers more than he remembers remembering, for he avoids mistakes
+which he made at one time, and his performance proves that all the
+notes are in his memory, though if called upon to play such and such
+a bar at random from the middle of the piece, and neither more nor
+less, he will probably say that he cannot remember it unless he
+begins from the beginning of the phrase which leads to it.  Very
+commonly he will be obliged to begin from the beginning of the
+movement itself, and be unable to start at any other point unless he
+have the music before him; and if disturbed, as we have seen above,
+he will have to start de novo from an accustomed starting-point.
+
+Yet nothing can be more obvious than that there must have been a time
+when what is now so easy as to be done without conscious effort of
+the brain was only done by means of brain work which was very keenly
+perceived, even to fatigue and positive distress.  Even now, if the
+player is playing something the like of which he has not met before,
+we observe he pauses and becomes immediately conscious of attention.
+
+We draw the inference, therefore, as regards pianoforte or violin
+playing, that the more the familiarity or knowledge of the art, the
+less is there consciousness of such knowledge; even so far as that
+there should seem to be almost as much difficulty in awakening
+consciousness which has become, so to speak, latent,--a consciousness
+of that which is known too well to admit of recognised self-analysis
+while the knowledge is being exercised--as in creating a
+consciousness of that which is not yet well enough known to be
+properly designated as known at all.  On the other hand, we observe
+that the less the familiarly or knowledge, the greater the
+consciousness of whatever knowledge there is.
+
+Considering other like instances of the habitual exercise of
+intelligence and volition, which, from long familiarity with the
+method of procedure, escape the notice of the person exercising them,
+we naturally think of writing.  The formation of each letter requires
+attention and volition, yet in a few minutes a practised writer will
+form several hundred letters, and be able to think and talk of
+something else all the time he is doing so.  It will not probably
+remember the formation of a single character in any page that he has
+written; nor will he be able to give more than the substance of his
+writing if asked to do so.  He knows how to form each letter so well,
+and he knows so well each word that he is about to write, that he has
+ceased to be conscious of his knowledge or to notice his acts of
+volition, each one of which is, nevertheless, followed by a
+corresponding muscular action.  Yet the uniformity of our
+handwriting, and the manner in which we almost invariably adhere to
+one method of forming the same character, would seem to suggest that
+during the momentary formation of each letter our memories must
+revert (with an intensity too rapid for our perception) to many if
+not to all the occasions on which we have ever written the same
+letter previously--the memory of these occasions dwelling in our
+minds as what has been called a residuum--an unconsciously struck
+balance or average of them all--a fused mass of individual
+reminiscences of which no trace can be found in our consciousness,
+and of which the only effect would seem to lie in the gradual changes
+of handwriting which are perceptible in most people till they have
+reached middle-age, and sometimes even later.  So far are we from
+consciously remembering any one of the occasions on which we have
+written such and such a letter, that we are not even conscious of
+exercising our memory at all, any more than we are in health
+conscious of the action of our heart.  But, if we are writing in some
+unfamiliar way, as when printing our letters instead of writing them
+in our usual running hand, our memory is so far awakened that we
+become conscious of every character we form; sometimes it is even
+perceptible as memory to ourselves, as when we try to remember how to
+print some letter, for example a g, and cannot call to mind on which
+side of the upper half of the letter we ought to put the link which
+connects it with the lower, and are successful in remembering; but if
+we become very conscious of remembering, it shows that we are on the
+brink of only trying to remember,--that is to say, of not remembering
+at all.
+
+As a general rule, we remember for a time the substance of what we
+have written, for the subject is generally new to us; but if we are
+writing what we have often written before, we lose consciousness of
+this too, as fully as we do of the characters necessary to convey the
+substance to another person, and we shall find ourselves writing on
+as it were mechanically while thinking and talking of something else.
+So a paid copyist, to whom the subject of what he is writing is of no
+importance, does not even notice it.  He deals only with familiar
+words and familiar characters without caring to go behind them, and
+thereupon writes on in a quasi-unconscious manner; but if he comes to
+a word or to characters with which he is but little acquainted, he
+becomes immediately awakened to the consciousness of either
+remembering or trying to remember.  His consciousness of his own
+knowledge or memory would seem to belong to a period, so to speak, of
+twilight between the thick darkness of ignorance and the brilliancy
+of perfect knowledge; as colour which vanishes with extremes of light
+or of shade.  Perfect ignorance and perfect knowledge are alike
+unselfconscious.
+
+The above holds good even more noticeably in respect of reading.  How
+many thousands of individual letters do our eyes run over every
+morning in the "Times" newspaper, how few of them do we notice, or
+remember having noticed?  Yet there was a time when we had such
+difficulty in reading even the simplest words, that we had to take
+great pains to impress them upon our memory so as to know them when
+we came to then again.  Now, not even a single word of all we have
+seen will remain with us, unless it is a new one, or an old one used
+in an unfamiliar sense, in which case we notice, and may very likely
+remember it.  Our memory retains the substance only, the substance
+only being unfamiliar.  Nevertheless, although we do not perceive
+more than the general result of our perception, there can be no doubt
+of our having perceived every letter in every word that we have read
+at all, for if we come upon a word misspelt our attention is at once
+aroused; unless, indeed, we have actually corrected the misspelling,
+as well as noticed it, unconsciously, through exceeding familiarity
+with the way in which it ought to be spelt.  Not only do we perceive
+the letters we have seen without noticing that we have perceived
+them, but we find it almost impossible to notice that we notice them
+when we have once learnt to read fluently.  To try to do so puts us
+out, and prevents our being able to read.  We may even go so far as
+to say that if a man can attend to the individual characters, it is a
+sign that he cannot yet read fluently.  If we know how to read well,
+we are as unconscious of the means and processes whereby we attain
+the desired result as we are about the growth of our hair or the
+circulation of our blood.  So that here again it would seem that we
+only know what we know still to some extent imperfectly, and that
+what we know thoroughly escapes our conscious perception though none
+the less actually perceived.  Our perception in fact passes into a
+latent stage, as also our memory and volition.
+
+Walking is another example of the rapid exercise of volition with but
+little perception of each individual act of exercise.  We notice any
+obstacle in our path, but it is plain we do not notice that we
+perceive much that we have nevertheless been perceiving; for if a man
+goes down a lane by night he will stumble over many things which he
+would have avoided by day, although he would not have noticed them.
+Yet time was when walking was to each one of us a new and arduous
+task--as arduous as we should now find it to wheel a wheelbarrow on a
+tight-rope; whereas, at present, though we can think of our steps to
+a certain extent without checking our power to walk, we certainly
+cannot consider our muscular action in detail without having to come
+to a dead stop.
+
+Talking--especially in one's mother tongue--may serve as a last
+example.  We find it impossible to follow the muscular action of the
+mouth and tongue in framing every letter or syllable we utter.  We
+have probably spoken for years and years before we became aware that
+the letter h is a labial sound, and until we have to utter a word
+which is difficult from its unfamiliarity we speak "trippingly on the
+tongue" with no attention except to the substance of what we wish to
+say.  Yet talking was not always the easy matter to us which it is at
+present--as we perceive more readily when we are learning a new
+language which it may take us months to master.  Nevertheless, when
+we have once mastered it we speak it without further consciousness of
+knowledge or memory, as regards the more common words, and without
+even noticing our consciousness.  Here, as in the other instances
+already given, as long as we did not know perfectly, we were
+conscious of our acts of perception, volition, and reflection, but
+when our knowledge has become perfect we no longer notice our
+consciousness, nor our volition; nor can we awaken a second
+artificial consciousness without some effort, and disturbance of the
+process of which we are endeavouring to become conscious.  We are no
+longer, so to speak, under the law, but under grace.
+
+An ascending scale may be perceived in the above instances.
+
+In playing, we have an action acquired long after birth, difficult of
+acquisition, and never thoroughly familiarised to the power of
+absolutely unconscious performance, except in the case of those who
+have either an exceptional genius for music, or who have devoted the
+greater part of their time to practising.  Except in the case of
+these persons it is generally found easy to become more or less
+conscious of any passage without disturbing the performance, and our
+action remains so completely within our control that we can stop
+playing at any moment we please.
+
+In writing, we have an action generally acquired earlier, done for
+the most part with great unconsciousness of detail, fairly well
+within our control to stop at any moment; though not so completely as
+would be imagined by those who have not made the experiment of trying
+to stop in the middle of a given character when writing at fit speed.
+Also, we can notice our formation of any individual character without
+our writing being materially hindered.
+
+Reading is usually acquired earlier still.  We read with more
+unconsciousness of attention than we write.  We find it more
+difficult to become conscious of any character without discomfiture,
+and we cannot arrest ourselves in the middle of a word, for example,
+and hardly before the end of a sentence; nevertheless it is on the
+whole well within our control.
+
+Walking is so early an acquisition that we cannot remember having
+acquired it.  In running fast over average ground we find it very
+difficult to become conscious of each individual step, and should
+possibly find it more difficult still, if the inequalities and
+roughness of uncultured land had not perhaps caused the development
+of a power to create a second consciousness of our steps without
+hindrance to our running or walking.  Pursuit and flight, whether in
+the chase or in war, must for many generations have played a much
+more prominent part in the lives of our ancestors than they do in our
+own.  If the ground over which they had to travel had been generally
+as free from obstruction as our modern cultivated lands, it is
+possible that we might not find it as easy to notice our several
+steps as we do at present.  Even as it is, if while we are running we
+would consider the action of our muscles, we come to a dead stop, and
+should probably fall if we tried to observe too suddenly; for we must
+stop to do this, and running, when we have once committed ourselves
+to it beyond a certain point, is not controllable to a step or two
+without loss of equilibrium.
+
+We learn to talk, much about the same time that we learn to walk, but
+talking requires less muscular effort than walking, and makes
+generally less demand upon our powers.  A man may talk a long while
+before he has done the equivalent of a five-mile walk; it is natural,
+therefore, that we should have had more practice in talking than in
+walking, and hence that we should find it harder to pay attention to
+our words than to our steps.  Certainly it is very hard to become
+conscious of every syllable or indeed of every word we say; the
+attempt to do so will often bring us to a check at once; nevertheless
+we can generally stop talking if we wish to do so, unless the crying
+of infants be considered as a kind of quasi-speech:  this comes
+earlier, and is often quite uncontrollable, or more truly perhaps is
+done with such complete control over the muscles by the will, and
+with such absolute certainty of his own purpose on the part of the
+wilier, that there is no longer any more doubt, uncertainty, or
+suspense, and hence no power of perceiving any of the processes
+whereby the result is attained--as a wheel which may look fast fixed
+because it is so fast revolving. {2}
+
+We may observe therefore in this ascending scale, imperfect as it is,
+that the older the habit the longer the practice, the longer the
+practice, the more knowledge--or, the less uncertainty; the less
+uncertainty the less power of conscious self-analysis and control.
+
+It will occur to the reader that in all the instances given above,
+different individuals attain the unconscious stage of perfect
+knowledge with very different degrees of facility.  Some have to
+attain it with a great sum; others are free born.  Some learn to
+play, to read, write, and talk, with hardly an effort--some show such
+an instinctive aptitude for arithmetic that, like Zerah Colburn, at
+eight years old, they achieve results without instruction, which in
+the case of most people would require a long education.  The account
+of Zerah Colburn, as quoted from Mr. Baily in Dr. Carpenter's "Mental
+Physiology," may perhaps be given here.
+
+"He raised any number consisting of ONE figure progressively to the
+tenth power, giving the results (by actual multiplication and not by
+memory) FASTER THAN THEY COULD BE SET DOWN IN FIGURES by the person
+appointed to record them.  He raised the number 8 progressively to
+the SIXTEENTH power, and in naming the last result, which consisted
+of 15 figures, he was right in every one.  Some numbers consisting of
+TWO figures he raised as high as the eighth power, though he found a
+difficulty in proceeding when the products became very large.
+
+"On being asked the SQUARE ROOT of 106,929, he answered 327 before
+the original number could be written down.  He was then required to
+find the cube root of 268,336,125, and with equal facility and
+promptness he replied 645.
+
+"He was asked how many minutes there are in 48 years, and before the
+question could be taken down he replied 25,228,800, and immediately
+afterwards he gave the correct number of seconds.
+
+"On being requested to give the factors which would produce the
+number 247,483, he immediately named 941 and 263, which are the only
+two numbers from the multiplication of which it would result.  On
+171,395 being proposed, he named 5 x 34,279, 7 x 24,485, 59 x 2905,
+83 x 2065, 35 x 4897, 295 x 581, and 413 x 415.
+
+"He was then asked to give the factors of 36,083, but he immediately
+replied that it had none, which was really the case, this being a
+prime number.  Other numbers being proposed to him indiscriminately,
+he always succeeded in giving the correct factors except in the case
+of prime numbers, which he generally discovered almost as soon as
+they were proposed to him.  The number 4,294,967,297, which is 2^32 +
+1, having been given him, he discovered, as Euler had previously
+done, that it was not the prime number which Fermat had supposed it
+to be, but that it is the product of the factors 6,700,417 x 641.
+The solution of this problem was only given after the lapse of some
+weeks, but the method he took to obtain it clearly showed that he had
+not derived his information from any extraneous source.
+
+"When he was asked to multiply together numbers both consisting of
+more than these figures, he seemed to decompose one or both of them
+into its factors, and to work with them separately.  Thus, on being
+asked to give the square of 4395, he multiplied 293 by itself, and
+then twice multiplied the product by 15.  And on being asked to tell
+the square of 999,999 he obtained the correct result,
+999,998,000,001, by twice multiplying the square of 37,037 by 27.  He
+then of his own accord multiplied that product by 49, and said that
+the result (viz., 48,999,902,000,049) was equal to the square of
+6,999,993.  He afterwards multiplied this product by 49, and observed
+that the result (viz., 2,400,995,198,002,401) was equal to the square
+of 48,999,951.  He was again asked to multiply the product by 25, and
+in naming the result (viz., 60,024,879,950,060,025) he said it was
+equal to the square of 244,999,755.
+
+"On being interrogated as to the manner in which he obtained these
+results, the boy constantly said he did not know HOW the answers came
+into his mind.  In the act of multiplying two numbers together, and
+in the raising of powers, it was evident (alike from the facts just
+stated and from the motion of his lips) that SOME operation was going
+forward in his mind; yet that operation could not (from the readiness
+with which his answers were furnished) have been at all allied to the
+usual modes of procedure, of which, indeed, he was entirely ignorant,
+not being able to perform on paper a simple sum in multiplication or
+division.  But in the extraction of roots, and in the discovery of
+the factors of large numbers, it did not appear that any operation
+COULD take place, since he gave answers IMMEDIATELY, or in a very few
+seconds, which, according to the ordinary methods, would have
+required very difficult and laborious calculations, and prime numbers
+cannot be recognised as such by any known rule."
+
+I should hope that many of the above figures are wrong.  I have
+verified them carefully with Dr. Carpenter's quotation, but further
+than this I cannot and will not go.  Also I am happy to find that in
+the end the boy overcame the mathematics, and turned out a useful but
+by no means particularly calculating member of society.
+
+The case, however, is typical of others in which persons have been
+found able to do without apparent effort what in the great majority
+of cases requires a long apprenticeship.  It is needless to multiply
+instances; the point that concerns us is, that knowledge under such
+circumstances being very intense, and the ease with which the result
+is produced extreme, it eludes the conscious apprehension of the
+performer himself, who only becomes conscious when a difficulty
+arises which taxes even his abnormal power.  Such a case, therefore,
+confirms rather than militates against our opinion that consciousness
+of knowledge vanishes on the knowledge becoming perfect--the only
+difference between those possessed of any such remarkable special
+power and the general run of people being, that the first are born
+with such an unusual aptitude for their particular specialty that
+they are able to dispense with all or nearly all the preliminary
+exercise of their faculty, while the latter must exercise it for a
+considerable time before they can get it to work smoothly and easily;
+but in either case when once the knowledge is intense it is
+unconscious.
+
+Nor again would such an instance as that of Zerah Colburn warrant us
+in believing that this white heat, as it were, of unconscious
+knowledge can be attained by any one without his ever having been
+originally cold.  Young Colburn, for example, could not extract roots
+when he was an embryo of three weeks' standing.  It is true we can
+seldom follow the process, but we know there must have been a time in
+every case when even the desire for information or action had not
+been kindled; the forgetfulness of effort on the part of those with
+exceptional genius for a special subject is due to the smallness of
+the effort necessary, so that it makes no impression upon the
+individual himself, rather than to the absence of any effort at all.
+{3}
+
+It would, therefore, appear as though perfect knowledge and perfect
+ignorance were extremes which meet and become indistinguishable from
+one another; so also perfect volition and perfect absence of
+volition, perfect memory and utter forgetfulness; for we are
+unconscious of knowing, willing, or remembering, either from not yet
+having known or willed, or from knowing and willing so well and so
+intensely as to be no longer conscious of either.  Conscious
+knowledge and volition are of attention; attention is of suspense;
+suspense is of doubt; doubt is of uncertainty; uncertainty is of
+ignorance; so that the mere fact of conscious knowing or willing
+implies the presence of more or less novelty and doubt.
+
+It would also appear as a general principle on a superficial view of
+the foregoing instances (and the reader may readily supply himself
+with others which are perhaps more to the purpose), that unconscious
+knowledge and unconscious volition are never acquired otherwise than
+as the result of experience, familiarity, or habit; so that whenever
+we observe a person able to do any complicated action unconsciously,
+we may assume both that he must have done it very often before he
+could acquire so great proficiency, and also that there must have
+been a time when he did not know how to do it at all.
+
+We may assume that there was a time when he was yet so nearly on the
+point of neither knowing nor willing perfectly, that he was quite
+alive to whatever knowledge or volition he could exert; going further
+back, we shall find him still more keenly alive to a less perfect
+knowledge; earlier still, we find him well aware that he does not
+know nor will correctly, but trying hard to do both the one and the
+other; and so on, back and back, till both difficulty and
+consciousness become little more than a sound of going in the brain,
+a flitting to and fro of something barely recognisable as the desire
+to will or know at all--much less as the desire to know or will
+definitely this or that.  Finally, they retreat beyond our ken into
+the repose--the inorganic kingdom--of as yet unawakened interest.
+
+In either case,--the repose of perfect ignorance or of perfect
+knowledge--disturbance is troublesome.  When first starting on an
+Atlantic steamer, our rest is hindered by the screw; after a short
+time, it is hindered if the screw stops.  A uniform impression is
+practically no impression.  One cannot either learn or unlearn
+without pains or pain.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II--CONSCIOUS AND UNCONSCIOUS KNOWERS--THE LAW AND GRACE
+
+
+
+
+In this chapter we shall show that the law, which we have observed to
+hold as to the vanishing tendency of knowledge upon becoming perfect,
+holds good not only concerning acquired actions or habits of body,
+but concerning opinions, modes of thought, and mental habits
+generally, which are no more recognised as soon as firmly fixed, than
+are the steps with which we go about our daily avocations.  I am
+aware that I may appear in the latter part of the chapter to have
+wandered somewhat beyond the limits of my subject, but, on the whole,
+decide upon leaving what I have written, inasmuch as it serves to
+show how far-reaching is the principle on which I am insisting.
+Having said so much, I shall during the remainder of the book keep
+more closely to the point.
+
+Certain it is that we know best what we are least conscious of
+knowing, or at any rate least able to prove, as, for example, our own
+existence, or that there is a country England.  If any one asks us
+for proof on matters of this sort, we have none ready, and are justly
+annoyed at being called to consider what we regard as settled
+questions.  Again, there is hardly anything which so much affects our
+actions as the centre of the earth (unless, perhaps, it be that still
+hotter and more unprofitable spot the centre of the universe), for we
+are incessantly trying to get as near it as circumstances will allow,
+or to avoid getting nearer than is for the time being convenient.
+Walking, running, standing, sitting, lying, waking, or sleeping, from
+birth till death it is a paramount object with us; even after death--
+if it be not fanciful to say so--it is one of the few things of which
+what is left of us can still feel the influence; yet what can engross
+less of our attention than this dark and distant spot so many
+thousands of miles away?
+
+The air we breathe, so long as it is neither too hot nor cold, nor
+rough, nor full of smoke--that is to say, so long as it is in that
+state within which we are best acquainted--seldom enters into our
+thoughts; yet there is hardly anything with which we are more
+incessantly occupied night and day.
+
+Indeed, it is not too much to say that we have no really profound
+knowledge upon any subject--no knowledge on the strength of which we
+are ready to act at all moments unhesitatingly without either
+preparation or after-thought--till we have left off feeling conscious
+of the possession of such knowledge, and of the grounds on which it
+rests.  A lesson thoroughly learned must be like the air which feels
+so light, though pressing so heavily against us, because every pore
+of our skin is saturated, so to speak, with it on all sides equally.
+This perfection of knowledge sometimes extends to positive disbelief
+in the thing known, so that the most thorough knower shall believe
+himself altogether ignorant.  No thief, for example, is such an utter
+thief--so GOOD a thief--as the kleptomaniac.  Until he has become a
+kleptomaniac, and can steal a horse as it were by a reflex action, he
+is still but half a thief, with many unthievish notions still
+clinging to him.  Yet the kleptomaniac is probably unaware that he
+can steal at all, much less that he can steal so well.  He would be
+shocked if he were to know the truth.  So again, no man is a great
+hypocrite until he has left off knowing that he is a hypocrite.  The
+great hypocrites of the world are almost invariably under the
+impression that they are among the very few really honest people to
+be found and, as we must all have observed, it is rare to find any
+one strongly under this impression without ourselves having good
+reason to differ from him.
+
+Our own existence is another case in point.  When we have once become
+articulately conscious of existing, it is an easy matter to begin
+doubting whether we exist at all.  As long as man was too
+unreflecting a creature to articulate in words his consciousness of
+his own existence, he knew very well that he existed, but he did not
+know that he knew it.  With introspection, and the perception
+recognised, for better or worse, that he was a fact, came also the
+perception that he had no solid ground for believing that he was a
+fact at all.  That nice, sensible, unintrospective people who were
+too busy trying to exist pleasantly to trouble their heads as to
+whether they existed or no--that this best part of mankind should
+have gratefully caught at such a straw as "cogito ergo sum," is
+intelligible enough.  They felt the futility of the whole question,
+and were thankful to one who seemed to clench the matter with a cant
+catchword, especially with a catchword in a foreign language; but how
+one, who was so far gone as to recognise that he could not prove his
+own existence, should be able to comfort himself with such a begging
+of the question, would seem unintelligible except upon the ground of
+sheer exhaustion.
+
+At the risk of appearing to wander too far from the matter in hand, a
+few further examples may perhaps be given of that irony of nature, by
+which it comes about that we so often most know and are, what we
+least think ourselves to know and be--and on the other hand hold most
+strongly what we are least capable of demonstrating.
+
+Take the existence of a Personal God,--one of the most profoundly-
+received and widely-spread ideas that have ever prevailed among
+mankind.  Has there ever been a DEMONSTRATION of the existence of
+such a God as has satisfied any considerable section of thinkers for
+long together?  Hardly has what has been conceived to be a
+demonstration made its appearance and received a certain acceptance
+as though it were actual proof, when it has been impugned with
+sufficient success to show that, however true the fact itself, the
+demonstration is naught.  I do not say that this is an argument
+against the personality of God; the drift, indeed, of the present
+reasoning would be towards an opposite conclusion, inasmuch as it
+insists upon the fact that what is most true and best known is often
+least susceptible of demonstration owing to the very perfectness with
+which it is known; nevertheless, the fact remains that many men in
+many ages and countries--the subtlest thinkers over the whole world
+for some fifteen hundred years--have hunted for a demonstration of
+God's personal existence; yet though so many have sought,--so many,
+and so able, and for so long a time--none have found.  There is no
+demonstration which can be pointed to with any unanimity as settling
+the matter beyond power of reasonable cavil.  On the contrary, it may
+be observed that from the attempt to prove the existence of a
+personal God to the denial of that existence altogether, the path is
+easy.  As in the case of our own existence, it will be found that
+they alone are perfect believers in a personal Deity and in the
+Christian religion who have not yet begun to feel that either stands
+in need of demonstration.  We observe that most people, whether
+Christians, or Jews, or Mohammedans, are unable to give their reasons
+for the faith that is in them with any readiness or completeness; and
+this is sure proof that they really hold it so utterly as to have no
+further sense that it either can be demonstrated or ought to be so,
+but feel towards it as towards the air which they breathe but do not
+notice.  On the other hand, a living prelate was reported in the
+"Times" to have said in one of his latest charges:  "My belief is
+that a widely extended good practice must be founded upon Christian
+doctrine."  The fact of the Archbishop's recognising this as among
+the number of his beliefs is conclusive evidence with those who have
+devoted attention to the laws of thought, that his mind is not yet
+clear as to whether or no there is any connection at all between
+Christian doctrine and widely extended good practice. {4}
+
+Again, it has been often and very truly said that it is not the
+conscious and self-styled sceptic, as Shelley for example, who is the
+true unbeliever.  Such a man as Shelley will, as indeed his life
+abundantly proves, have more in common than not with the true
+unselfconscious believer.  Gallio again, whose indifference to
+religious animosities has won him the cheapest immortality which, so
+far as I can remember, was ever yet won, was probably if the truth
+were known, a person of the sincerest piety.  It is the unconscious
+unbeliever who is the true infidel, however greatly he would be
+surprised to know the truth.  Mr. Spurgeon was reported as having
+recently asked the Almighty to "change our rulers AS SOON AS
+POSSIBLE."  There lurks a more profound distrust of God's power in
+these words than in almost any open denial of His existence.
+
+So it rather shocks us to find Mr. Darwin writing ("Plants and
+Animals under Domestication," vol. ii., p. 275):  "No doubt, in every
+case there must have been some exciting cause."  And again, six or
+seven pages later:  "No doubt, each slight variation must have its
+efficient cause."  The repetition within so short a space of this
+expression of confidence in the impossibility of causeless effects
+would suggest that Mr. Darwin's mind at the time of writing was,
+unconsciously to himself, in a state of more or less uneasiness as to
+whether effects could not occasionally come about of themselves, and
+without cause of any sort,--that he may have been standing, in fact,
+for a short time upon the brink of a denial of the indestructibility
+of force and matter.
+
+In like manner, the most perfect humour and irony is generally quite
+unconscious.  Examples of both are frequently given by men whom the
+world considers as deficient in humour; it is more probably true that
+these persons are unconscious of their own delightful power through
+the very mastery and perfection with which they hold it.  There is a
+play, for instance, of genuine fun in some of the more serious
+scientific and theological journals which for some time past we have
+looked for in vain in " ---  ."
+
+The following extract, from a journal which I will not advertise, may
+serve as an example:
+
+"Lycurgus, when they had abandoned to his revenge him who had put out
+his eyes, took him home, and the punishment he inflicted upon him was
+sedulous instructions to virtue."  Yet this truly comic paper does
+not probably know that it is comic, any more than the kleptomaniac
+knows that he steals, or than John Milton knew he was a humorist when
+he wrote a hymn upon the circumcision, and spent his honeymoon in
+composing a treatise on divorce.  No more again did Goethe know how
+exquisitely humorous he was when he wrote, in his Wilhelm Meister,
+that a beautiful tear glistened in Theresa's right eye, and then went
+on to explain that it glistened in her right eye and not in her left,
+because she had had a wart on her left which had been removed--and
+successfully.  Goethe probably wrote this without a chuckle; he
+believed what a good many people who have never read Wilhelm Meister
+believe still, namely, that it was a work full of pathos, of fine and
+tender feeling; yet a less consummate humorist must have felt that
+there was scarcely a paragraph in it from first to last the chief
+merit of which did not lie in its absurdity.
+
+Another example may be taken from Bacon of the manner in which
+sayings which drop from men unconsciously, give the key of their
+inner thoughts to another person, though they themselves know not
+that they have such thoughts at all; much less that these thoughts
+are their only true convictions.  In his Essay on Friendship the
+great philosopher writes:  "Reading good books on morality is a
+little flat and dead."  Innocent, not to say pathetic, as this
+passage may sound it is pregnant with painful inferences concerning
+Bacon's moral character.  For if he knew that he found reading good
+books of morality a little flat and dead, it follows he must have
+tried to read them; nor is he saved by the fact that he found them a
+little flat and dead; for though this does indeed show that he had
+begun to be so familiar with a few first principles as to find it
+more or less exhausting to have his attention directed to them
+further--yet his words prove that they were not so incorporate with
+him that he should feel the loathing for further discourse upon the
+matter which honest people commonly feel now.  It will be remembered
+that he took bribes when he came to be Lord Chancellor.
+
+It is on the same principle that we find it so distasteful to hear
+one praise another for earnestness.  For such praise raises a
+suspicion in our minds (pace the late Dr. Arnold and his following)
+that the praiser's attention must have been arrested by sincerity, as
+by something more or less unfamiliar to himself.  So universally is
+this recognised that the world has for some time been discarded
+entirely by all reputable people.  Truly, if there is one who cannot
+find himself in the same room with the life and letters of an earnest
+person without being made instantly unwell, the same is a just man
+and perfect in all his ways.
+
+But enough has perhaps been said.  As the fish in the sea, or the
+bird in the air, so unreasoningly and inarticulately safe must a man
+feel before he can be said to know.  It is only those who are
+ignorant and uncultivated who can know anything at all in a proper
+sense of the words.  Cultivation will breed in any man a certainty of
+the uncertainty even of his most assured convictions.  It is perhaps
+fortunate for our comfort that we can none of us be cultivated upon
+very many subjects, so that considerable scope for assurance will
+still remain to us; but however this may be, we certainly observe it
+as a fact that the greatest men are they who are most uncertain in
+spite of certainty, and at the same time most certain in spite of
+uncertainty, and who are thus best able to feel that there is nothing
+in such complete harmony with itself as a flat contradiction in
+terms.  For nature hates that any principle should breed, so to
+speak, hermaphroditically, but will give to each an help meet for it
+which shall cross it and be the undoing of it; as in the case of
+descent with modification, of which the essence would appear to be
+that every offspring should resemble its parents, and yet, at the
+same time, that no offspring should resemble its parents.  But for
+the slightly irritating stimulant of this perpetual crossing, we
+should pass our lives unconsciously as though in slumber.
+
+Until we have got to understand that though black is not white, yet
+it may be whiter than white itself (and any painter will readily
+paint that which shall show obviously as black, yet it shall be
+whiter than that which shall show no less obviously as white), we may
+be good logicians, but we are still poor reasoners.  Knowledge is in
+an inchoate state as long as it is capable of logical treatment; it
+must be transmuted into that sense or instinct which rises altogether
+above the sphere in which words can have being at all, otherwise it
+is not yet vital.  For sense is to knowledge what conscience is to
+reasoning about right and wrong; the reasoning must be so rapid as to
+defy conscious reference to first principles, and even at times to be
+apparently subversive of them altogether, or the action will halt.
+It must, in fact, become automatic before we are safe with it.  While
+we are fumbling for the grounds of our conviction, our conviction is
+prone to fall, as Peter for lack of faith sinking into the waves of
+Galilee; so that the very power to prove at all is an a priori
+argument against the truth--or at any rate the practical importance
+to the vast majority of mankind--of all that is supported by
+demonstration.  For the power to prove implies a sense of the need of
+proof, and things which the majority of mankind find practically
+important are in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred above proof.  The
+need of proof becomes as obsolete in the case of assumed knowledge,
+as the practice of fortifying towns in the middle of an old and long
+settled country.  Who builds defences for that which is impregnable
+or little likely to be assailed?  The answer is ready, that unless
+the defences had been built in former times it would be impossible to
+do without them now; but this does not touch the argument, which is
+not that demonstration is unwise, but that as long as a demonstration
+is still felt necessary, and therefore kept ready to hand, the
+subject of such demonstration is not yet securely known.  Qui
+s'excuse, s'accuse; and unless a matter can hold its own without the
+brag and self-assertion of continual demonstration, it is still more
+or less of a parvenu, which we shall not lose much by neglecting till
+it has less occasion to blow its own trumpet.  The only alternative
+is that it is an error in process of detection, for if evidence
+concerning any opinion has long been denied superfluous, and ever
+after this comes to be again felt necessary, we know that the opinion
+is doomed.
+
+If there is any truth in the above, it should follow that our
+conception of the words "science" and "scientific" should undergo
+some modification.  Not that we should speak slightingly of science,
+but that we should recognise more than we do, that there are two
+distinct classes of scientific people corresponding not inaptly with
+the two main parties unto which the political world is divided.  The
+one class is deeply versed in those sciences which have already
+become the common property of mankind; enjoying, enforcing,
+perpetuating, and engraving still more deeply unto the mind of man
+acquisitions already approved by common experience, but somewhat
+careless about extension of empire, or at any rate disinclined, for
+the most part, to active effort on their own part for the sake of
+such extension--neither progressive, in fact, nor aggressive--but
+quiet, peaceable people, who wish to live and let live, as their
+fathers before them; while the other class is chiefly intent upon
+pushing forward the boundaries of science, and is comparatively
+indifferent to what is known already save in so far as necessary for
+purposes of extension.  These last are called pioneers of science,
+and to them alone is the title "scientific" commonly accorded; but
+pioneers, unimportant to an army as they are, are still not the army
+itself; which can get on better without the pioneers than the
+pioneers without the army.  Surely the class which knows thoroughly
+well what it knows, and which adjudicates upon the value of the
+discoveries made by the pioneers--surely this class has as good a
+right or better to be called scientific than the pioneers themselves.
+
+These two classes above described blend into one another with every
+shade of gradation.  Some are admirably proficient in the well-known
+sciences--that is to say, they have good health, good looks, good
+temper, common sense, and energy, and they hold all these good things
+in such perfection as to lie altogether without introspection--to be
+not under the law, but so utterly and entirely under grace that every
+one who sees them likes them.  But such may, and perhaps more
+commonly will, have very little inclination to extend the boundaries
+of human knowledge; their aim is in another direction altogether.  Of
+the pioneers, on the other hand, some are agreeable people, well
+versed in the older sciences, though still more eminent as pioneers,
+while others, whose services in this last capacity have been of
+inestimable value, are noticeably ignorant of the sciences which have
+already become current with the larger part of mankind--in other
+words, they are ugly, rude, and disagreeable people, very
+progressive, it may be, but very aggressive to boot.
+
+The main difference between these two classes lies in the fact that
+the knowledge of the one, so far as it is new, is known consciously,
+while that of the other is unconscious, consisting of sense and
+instinct rather than of recognised knowledge.  So long as a man has
+these, and of the same kind as the more powerful body of his fellow-
+countrymen, he is a true man of science, though he can hardly read or
+write.  As my great namesake said so well, "He knows what's what, and
+that's as high as metaphysic wit can fly."  As usual, these true and
+thorough knowers do not know that they are scientific, and can seldom
+give a reason for the faith that is in them.  They believe themselves
+to be ignorant, uncultured men, nor can even the professors whom they
+sometimes outwit in their own professorial domain perceive that they
+have been outwitted by men of superior scientific attainments to
+their own.  The following passage from Dr. Carpenter's "Mesmerism,
+Spiritualism," &c., may serve as an illustration:-
+
+"It is well known that persons who are conversant with the geological
+structure of a district are often able to indicate with considerable
+certainty in what spot and at what depth water will be found; and men
+OF LESS SCIENTIFIC KNOWLEDGE, BUT OF CONSIDERABLE PRACTICAL
+EXPERIENCE"--(so that in Dr. Carpenter's mind there seems to be some
+sort of contrast or difference in kind between the knowledge which is
+derived from observation of facts and scientific knowledge)--
+"frequently arrive at a true conclusion upon this point without being
+able to assign reasons for their opinions.
+
+"Exactly the same may be said in regard to the mineral structure of a
+mining district; the course of a metallic vein being often correctly
+indicated by the shrewd guess of an OBSERVANT workman, when THE
+SCIENTIFIC REASONING of the mining engineer altogether fails."
+
+Precisely.  Here we have exactly the kind of thing we are in search
+of:  the man who has observed and observed till the facts are so
+thoroughly in his head that through familiarity he has lost sight
+both of them and of the processes whereby he deduced his conclusions
+from them--is apparently not considered scientific, though he knows
+how to solve the problem before him; the mining engineer, on the
+other hand, who reasons scientifically--that is to say, with a
+knowledge of his own knowledge--is found not to know, and to fail in
+discovering the mineral.
+
+"It is an experience we are continually encountering in other walks
+of life," continues Dr. Carpenter, "that particular persons are
+guided--some apparently by an original and others by AN ACQUIRED
+INTUITION--to conclusions for which they can give no adequate reason,
+but which subsequent events prove to have been correct."  And this, I
+take it, implies what I have been above insisting on, namely, that on
+becoming intense, knowledge seems also to become unaware of the
+grounds on which it rests, or that it has or requires grounds at all,
+or indeed even exists.  The only issue between myself and Dr.
+Carpenter would appear to be, that Dr. Carpenter, himself an
+acknowledged leader in the scientific world, restricts the term
+"scientific" to the people who know that they know, but are beaten by
+those who are not so conscious of their own knowledge; while I say
+that the term "scientific" should be applied (only that they would
+not like it) to the nice sensible people who know what's what rather
+than to the discovering class.
+
+And this is easily understood when we remember that the pioneer
+cannot hope to acquire any of the new sciences in a single lifetime
+so perfectly as to become unaware of his own knowledge.  As a general
+rule, we observe him to be still in a state of active consciousness
+concerning whatever particular science he is extending, and as long
+as he is in this state he cannot know utterly.  It is, as I have
+already so often insisted on, those who do not know that they know so
+much who have the firmest grip of their knowledge:  the best class,
+for example, of our English youth, who live much in the open air,
+and, as Lord Beaconsfield finely said, never read.  These are the
+people who know best those things which are best worth knowing--that
+is to say, they are the most truly scientific.  Unfortunately, the
+apparatus necessary for this kind of science is so costly as to be
+within the reach of few, involving, as it does, an experience in the
+use of it for some preceding generations.  Even those who are born
+with the means within their reach must take no less pains, and
+exercise no less self-control, before they can attain the perfect
+unconscious use of them, than would go to the making of a James Watt
+or a Stephenson; it is vain, therefore, to hope that this best kind
+of science can ever be put within the reach of the many; nevertheless
+it may be safely said that all the other and more generally
+recognised kinds of science are valueless except in so far as they
+tend to minister to this the highest kind.  They have no raison
+d'etre except so far as they tend to do away with the necessity for
+work, and to diffuse good health, and that good sense which is above
+self-consciousness.  They are to be encouraged because they have
+rendered the most fortunate kind of modern European possible, and
+because they tend to make possible a still more fortunate kind than
+any now existing.  But the man who devotes himself to science cannot-
+-with the rarest, if any, exceptions--belong to this most fortunate
+class himself.  He occupies a lower place, both scientifically and
+morally, for it is not possible but that his drudgery should somewhat
+soil him both in mind and health of body, or, if this be denied,
+surely it must let him and hinder him in running the race for
+unconsciousness.  We do not feel that it increases the glory of a
+king or great nobleman that he should excel in what is commonly
+called science.  Certainly he should not go further than Prince
+Rupert's drops.  Nor should he excel in music, art, literature, or
+theology--all which things are more or less parts of science.  He
+should be above them all, save in so far as he can without effort
+reap renown from the labours of others.  It is a lache in him that he
+should write music or books, or paint pictures at all; but if he must
+do so, his work should be at best contemptible.  Much as we must
+condemn Marcus Aurelius, we condemn James I. ever more severely.
+
+It is a pity there should exist so general a confusion of thought
+upon this subject, for it may be asserted without fear of
+contradiction that there is hardly any form of immorality now rife
+which produces more disastrous effects upon those who give themselves
+up to it, and upon society in general, than the so-called science of
+those who know that they know too well to be able to know truly.
+With very clever people--the people who know that they know--it is
+much as with the members of the early Corinthian Church, to whom St.
+Paul wrote, that if they looked their numbers over, they would not
+find many wise, nor powerful, nor well-born people among them.  Dog-
+fanciers tell us that performing dogs never carry their tails; such
+dogs have eaten of the tree of knowledge, and are convinced of sin
+accordingly--they know that they know things, in respect of which,
+therefore, they are no longer under grace, but under the law, and
+they have yet so much grace left as to be ashamed.  So with the human
+clever dog; he may speak with the tongues of men and angels, but so
+long as he knows that he knows, his tail will droop.  More especially
+does this hold in the case of those who are born to wealth and of old
+family.  We must all feel that a rich young nobleman with a taste for
+science and principles is rarely a pleasant object.  We do not even
+like the rich young man in the Bible who wanted to inherit eternal
+life, unless, indeed, he merely wanted to know whether there was not
+some way by which he could avoid dying, and even so he is hardly
+worth considering.  Principles are like logic, which never yet made a
+good reasoner of a bad one, but might still be occasionally useful if
+they did not invariably contradict each other whenever there is any
+temptation to appeal to them.  They are like fire, good servants but
+bad masters.  As many people or more have been wrecked on principle
+as from want of principle.  They are, as their name implies, of an
+elementary character, suitable for beginners only, and he who has so
+little mastered them as to have occasion to refer to them
+consciously, is out of place in the society of well-educated people.
+The truly scientific invariably hate him, and, for the most part, the
+more profoundly in proportion to the unconsciousness with which they
+do so.
+
+If the reader hesitates, let him go down into the streets and look in
+the shop-windows at the photographs of eminent men, whether literary,
+artistic, or scientific, and note the work which the consciousness of
+knowledge has wrought on nine out of every ten of them; then let him
+go to the masterpieces of Greek and Italian art, the truest preachers
+of the truest gospel of grace; let him look at the Venus of Milo, the
+Discobolus, the St. George of Donatello.  If it had pleased these
+people to wish to study, there was no lack of brains to do it with;
+but imagine "what a deal of scorn" would "look beautiful" upon the
+Venus of Milo's face if it were suggested to her that she should
+learn to read.  Which, think you, knows most, the Theseus, or any
+modern professor taken at random?  True, the advancement of learning
+must have had a great share in the advancement of beauty, inasmuch as
+beauty is but knowledge perfected and incarnate--but with the
+pioneers it is sic vos non vobis; the grace is not for them, but for
+those who come after.  Science is like offences.  It must needs come,
+but woe unto that man through whom it comes; for there cannot be much
+beauty where there is consciousness of knowledge, and while knowledge
+is still new it must in the nature of things involve much
+consciousness.
+
+It is not knowledge, then, that is incompatible with beauty; there
+cannot be too much knowledge, but it must have passed through many
+people who it is to be feared must be more or less disagreeable,
+before beauty or grace will have anything to say to it; it must be so
+incarnate in a man's whole being that he shall not be aware of it, or
+it will fit him constrainedly as one under the law, and not as one
+under grace.
+
+And grace is best, for where grace is, love is not distant.  Grace!
+the old Pagan ideal whose charm even unlovely Paul could not
+understand, but, as the legend tells us, his soul fainted within him,
+his heart misgave him, and, standing alone on the seashore at dusk,
+he "troubled deaf heaven with his bootless cries," his thin voice
+pleading for grace after the flesh.
+
+The waves came in one after another, the sea-gulls cried together
+after their kind, the wind rustled among the dried canes upon the
+sandbanks, and there came a voice from heaven saying, "Let My grace
+be sufficient for thee."  Whereon, failing of the thing itself, he
+stole the word and strove to crush its meaning to the measure of his
+own limitations.  But the true grace, with her groves and high
+places, and troups of young men and maidens crowned with flowers, and
+singing of love and youth and wine--the true grace he drove out into
+the wilderness--high up, it may be, into Piora, and into such-like
+places.  Happy they who harboured her in her ill report.
+
+It is common to hear men wonder what new faith will be adopted by
+mankind if disbelief in the Christian religion should become general.
+They seem to expect that some new theological or quasi-theological
+system will arise, which, mutatis mutandis, shall be Christianity
+over again.  It is a frequent reproach against those who maintain
+that the supernatural element of Christianity is without foundation,
+that they bring forward no such system of their own.  They pull down
+but cannot build.  We sometimes hear even those who have come to the
+same conclusions as the destroyers say, that having nothing new to
+set up, they will not attack the old.  But how can people set up a
+new superstition, knowing it to be a superstition?  Without faith in
+their own platform, a faith as intense as that manifested by the
+early Christians, how can they preach?  A new superstition will come,
+but it is in the very essence of things that its apostles should have
+no suspicion of its real nature; that they should no more recognise
+the common element between the new and the old than the early
+Christians recognised it between their faith and Paganism.  If they
+did, they would be paralysed.  Others say that the new fabric may be
+seen rising on every side, and that the coming religion is science.
+Certainly its apostles preach it without misgiving, but it is not on
+that account less possible that it may prove only to be the coming
+superstition--like Christianity, true to its true votaries, and, like
+Christianity, false to those who follow it introspectively.
+
+It may well be we shall find we have escaped from one set of
+taskmasters to fall into the hands of others far more ruthless.  The
+tyranny of the Church is light in comparison with that which future
+generations may have to undergo at the hands of the doctrinaires.
+The Church did uphold a grace of some sort as the summum bonum, in
+comparison with which all so-called earthly knowledge--knowledge,
+that is to say, which had not passed through so many people as to
+have become living and incarnate--was unimportant.  Do what we may,
+we are still drawn to the unspoken teaching of her less introspective
+ages with a force which no falsehood could command.  Her buildings,
+her music, her architecture, touch us as none other on the whole can
+do; when she speaks there are many of us who think that she denies
+the deeper truths of her own profounder mind, and unfortunately her
+tendency is now towards more rather than less introspection.  The
+more she gives way to this--the more she becomes conscious of
+knowing--the less she will know.  But still her ideal is in grace.
+
+The so-called man of science, on the other hand, seems now generally
+inclined to make light of all knowledge, save of the pioneer
+character.  His ideal is in self-conscious knowledge.  Let us have no
+more Lo, here, with the professor; he very rarely knows what he says
+he knows; no sooner has he misled the world for a sufficient time
+with a great flourish of trumpets than he is toppled over by one more
+plausible than himself.  He is but medicine-man, augur, priest, in
+its latest development; useful it may be, but requiring to be well
+watched by those who value freedom.  Wait till he has become more
+powerful, and note the vagaries which his conceit of knowledge will
+indulge in.  The Church did not persecute while she was still weak.
+Of course every system has had, and will have, its heroes, but, as we
+all very well know, the heroism of the hero is but remotely due to
+system; it is due not to arguments, nor reasoning, nor to any
+consciously recognised perceptions, but to those deeper sciences
+which lie far beyond the reach of self-analysis, and for the sturdy
+of which there is but one schooling--to have had good forefathers for
+many generations.
+
+Above all things, let no unwary reader do me the injustice of
+believing in ME.  In that I write at all I am among the dammed.  If
+he must believe in anything, let him believe in the music of Handel,
+the painting of Giovanni Bellini, and in the thirteenth chapter of
+St. Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians.
+
+But to return.  Whenever we find people knowing that they know this
+or that, we have the same story over and over again.  They do not yet
+know it perfectly.
+
+We come, therefore, to the conclusion that our knowledge and
+reasoning thereupon, only become perfect, assured, unhesitating, when
+they have become automatic, and are thus exercised without further
+conscious effort of the mind, much in the same way as we cannot walk
+nor read nor write perfectly till we can do so automatically.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III--APPLICATION OF FOREGOING CHAPTERS TO CERTAIN HABITS
+ACQUIRED AFTER BIRTH WHICH ARE COMMONLY CONSIDERED INSTINCTIVE.
+
+
+
+What is true of knowing is also true of willing.  The more intensely
+we will, the less is our will deliberate and capable of being
+recognised as will at all.  So that it is common to hear men declare
+under certain circumstances that they had no will, but were forced
+into their own action under stress of passion or temptation.  But in
+the more ordinary actions of life, we observe, as in walking or
+breathing, that we do not will anything utterly and without remnant
+of hesitation, till we have lost sight of the fact that we are
+exercising our will.
+
+The question, therefore, is forced upon us, how far this principle
+extends, and whether there may not be unheeded examples of its
+operation which, if we consider them, will land us in rather
+unexpected conclusions.  If it be granted that consciousness of
+knowledge and of volition vanishes when the knowledge and the
+volition have become intense and perfect, may it not be possible that
+many actions which we do without knowing how we do them, and without
+any conscious exercise of the will--actions which we certainly could
+not do if we tried to do them, nor refrain from doing if for any
+reason we wished to do so--are done so easily and so unconsciously
+owing to excess of knowledge or experience rather than deficiency, we
+having done them too often, knowing how to do them too well, and
+having too little hesitation as to the method of procedure, to be
+capable of following our own action without the utter derangement of
+such action altogether; or, in other cases, because we have so long
+settled the question, that we have stowed away the whole apparatus
+with which we work in corners of our system which we cannot now
+conveniently reach?
+
+It may be interesting to see whether we can find any class or classes
+of actions which would seem to link actions which for some time after
+birth we could not do at all, and in which our proficiency has
+reached the stage of unconscious performance obviously through
+repeated effort and failure, and through this only, with actions
+which we could do as soon as we were born, and concerning which it
+would at first sight appear absurd to say that they can have been
+acquired by any process in the least analogous to that which we
+commonly call experience, inasmuch as the creature itself which does
+them has only just begun to exist, and cannot, therefore, in the very
+nature of things, have had experience.
+
+Can we see that actions, for the acquisition of which experience is
+such an obvious necessity, that whenever we see the acquisition we
+assume the experience, gradate away imperceptibly into actions which
+would seem, according to all reasonable analogy, to presuppose
+experience, of which, however, the time and place seem obscure, if
+not impossible?
+
+Eating and drinking would appear to be such actions.  The new-born
+child cannot eat, and cannot drink, but he can swallow as soon as he
+is born; and swallowing would appear (as we may remark in passing) to
+have been an earlier faculty of animal life than that of eating with
+teeth.  The ease and unconsciousness with which we eat and drink is
+clearly attributable to practice; but a very little practice seems to
+go a long way--a suspiciously small amount of practice--as though
+somewhere or at some other time there must have been more practice
+than we can account for.  We can very readily stop eating or
+drinking, and can follow our own action without difficulty in either
+process; but, as regards swallowing, which is the earlier habit, we
+have less power of self-analysis and control:  when we have once
+committed ourselves beyond a certain point to swallowing, we must
+finish doing so,--that is to say, our control over the operation
+ceases.  Also, a still smaller experience seems necessary for the
+acquisition of the power to swallow than appeared necessary in the
+case of eating; and if we get into a difficulty we choke, and are
+more at a loss how to become introspective than we are about eating
+and drinking.
+
+Why should a baby be able to swallow--which one would have said was
+the more complicated process of the two--with so much less practice
+than it takes him to learn to eat?  How comes it that he exhibits in
+the case of the more difficult operation all the phenomena which
+ordinarily accompany a more complete mastery and longer practice?
+Analogy would certainly seem to point in the direction of thinking
+that the necessary experience cannot have been wanting, and that,
+too, not in such a quibbling sort as when people talk about inherited
+habit or the experience of the race, which, without explanation, is
+to plain-speaking persons very much the same, in regard to the
+individual, as no experience at all, but bona fide in the child's own
+person.
+
+Breathing, again, is an action acquired after birth, generally with
+some little hesitation and difficulty, but still acquired in a time
+seldom longer, as I am informed, than ten minutes or a quarter of an
+hour.  For an ant which has to be acquired at all, there would seem
+here, as in the case of eating, to be a disproportion between, on the
+one hand, the intricacy of the process performed, and on the other,
+the shortness of the time taken to acquire the practice, and the ease
+and unconsciousness with which its exercise is continued from the
+moment of acquisition.
+
+We observe that in later life much less difficult and intricate
+operations than breathing acquire much longer practice before they
+can be mastered to the extent of unconscious performance.  We observe
+also that the phenomena attendant on the learning by an infant to
+breathe are extremely like those attendant upon the repetition of
+some performance by one who has done it very often before, but who
+requires just a little prompting to set him off, on getting which,
+the whole familiar routine presents itself before him, and he repeats
+his task by rote.  Surely then we are justified in suspecting that
+there must have been more bona fide personal recollection and
+experience, with more effort and failure on the part of the infant
+itself than meet the eye.
+
+It should be noticed, also, that our control over breathing is very
+limited.  We can hold our breath a little, or breathe a little faster
+for a short time, but we cannot do this for long, and after having
+gone without air for a certain time we must breath.
+
+Seeing and hearing require some practice before their free use is
+mastered, but not very much.  They are so far within our control that
+we can see more by looking harder, and hear more by listening
+attentively--but they are beyond our control in so far as that we
+must see and hear the greater part of what presents itself to us as
+near, and at the same time unfamiliar, unless we turn away or shut
+our eyes, or stop our ears by a mechanical process; and when we do
+this it is a sign that we have already involuntarily seen or heard
+more than we wished.  The familiar, whether sight or sound, very
+commonly escapes us.
+
+Take again the processes of digestion, the action of the heart, and
+the oxygenisation of the blood--processes of extreme intricacy, done
+almost entirely unconsciously, and quite beyond the control of our
+volition.
+
+Is it possible that our unconsciousness concerning our own
+performance of all these processes arises from over-experience?
+
+Is there anything in digestion, or the oxygenisation of the blood,
+different in kind to the rapid unconscious action of a man playing a
+difficult piece of music on the piano?  There may be in degree, but
+as a man who sits down to play what he well knows, plays on, when
+once started, almost, as we say, mechanically, so, having eaten his
+dinner, he digests it as a matter of course, unless it has been in
+some way unfamiliar to him, or he to it, owing to some derangement or
+occurrence with which he is unfamiliar, and under which therefore he
+is at a loss now to comport himself, as a player would be at a loss
+how to play with gloves on, or with gout in his fingers, or if set to
+play music upside down.
+
+Can we show that all the acquired actions of childhood and after-
+life, which we now do unconsciously, or without conscious exercise of
+the will, are familiar acts--acts which we have already done a very
+great number of times?
+
+Can we also show that there are no acquired actions which we can
+perform in this automatic manner, which were not at one time
+difficult, requiring attention, and liable to repeated failure, our
+volition failing to command obedience from the members which should
+carry its purposes into execution?
+
+If so, analogy will point in the direction of thinking that other
+acts which we do even more unconsciously may only escape our power of
+self-examination and control because they are even more familiar--
+because we have done them oftener; and we may imagine that if there
+were a microscope which could show us the minutest atoms of
+consciousness and volition, we should find that even the apparently
+most automatic actions were yet done in due course, upon a balance of
+considerations, and under the deliberate exercise of the will.
+
+We should also incline to think that even such an action as the
+oxygenisation of its blood by an infant of ten minutes' old, can only
+be done so well and so unconsciously, after repeated failures on the
+part of the infant itself.
+
+True, as has been already implied, we do not immediately see when the
+baby could have made the necessary mistakes and acquired that
+infinite practice without which it could never go through such
+complex processes satisfactorily; we have therefore invented the
+words "hereditary instinct," and consider them as accounting for the
+phenomenon; but a very little reflection will show that though these
+words may be a very good way of stating the difficulty, they do
+little or nothing towards removing it.
+
+Why should hereditary instinct enable a creature to dispense with the
+experience which we see to be necessary in all other cases before
+difficult operations can be performed successfully?
+
+What is this talk that is made about the experience OF THE RACE, as
+though the experience of one man could profit another who knows
+nothing about him?  If a man eats his dinner, it nourishes HIM and
+not his neighbour; if he learns a different art, it is HE that can do
+it and not his neighbour.  Yet, practically, we see that the
+vicarious experience, which seems so contrary to our common
+observation, does nevertheless appear to hold good in the case of
+creatures and their descendants.  Is there, then, any way of bringing
+these apparently conflicting phenomena under the operation of one
+law?  Is there any way of showing that this experience of the race,
+of which so much is said without the least attempt to show in what
+way it may or does become the experience of the individual, is in
+sober seriousness the experience of one single being only, repeating
+in a great many different ways certain performances with which he has
+become exceedingly familiar?
+
+It would seem that we must either suppose the conditions of
+experience to differ during the earlier stages of life from those
+which we observe them to become during the heyday of any existence--
+and this would appear very gratuitous, tolerable only as a suggestion
+because the beginnings of life are so obscure, that in such twilight
+we may do pretty much whatever we please without danger of
+confutation--or that we must suppose the continuity of life and
+sameness between living beings, whether plants or animals, and their
+descendants, to be far closer than we have hitherto believed; so that
+the experience of one person is not enjoyed by his successor, so much
+as that the successor is bona fide but a part of the life of his
+progenitor, imbued with all his memories, profiting by all his
+experiences--which are, in fact, his own--and only unconscious of the
+extent of his own memories and experiences owing to their vastness
+and already infinite repetitions.
+
+Certainly it presents itself to us at once as a singular coincidence
+-
+
+I.  That we are MOST CONSCIOUS OF, AND HAVE MOST CONTROL OVER, such
+habits as speech, the upright position, the arts and sciences, which
+are acquisitions peculiar to the human race, always acquired after
+birth, and not common to ourselves and any ancestor who had not
+become entirely human.
+
+II.  That we are LESS CONSCIOUS OF, AND HAVE LESS CONTROL OVER,
+eating and drinking, swallowing, breathing, seeing and hearing, which
+were acquisitions of our prehuman ancestry, and for which we had
+provided ourselves with all the necessary apparatus before we saw
+light, but which are still, geologically speaking, recent, or
+comparatively recent.
+
+III.  That we are MOST UNCONSCIOUS OF, AND HAVE LEAST CONTROL OVER,
+our digestion and circulation, which belonged even to our
+invertebrate ancestry, and which are habits, geologically speaking,
+of extreme antiquity.
+
+There is something too like method in this for it to be taken as the
+result of mere chance--chance again being but another illustration of
+Nature's love of a contradiction in terms; for everything is chance,
+and nothing is chance.  And you may take it that all is chance or
+nothing chance, according as you please, but you must not have half
+chance and half not chance.
+
+Does it not seem as though the older and more confirmed the habit,
+the more unquestioning the act of volition, till, in the case of the
+oldest habits, the practice of succeeding existences has so
+formulated the procedure, that, on being once committed to such and
+such a line beyond a certain point, the subsequent course is so clear
+as to be open to no further doubt, to admit of no alternative, till
+the very power of questioning is gone, and even the consciousness of
+volition?  And this too upon matters which, in earlier stages of a
+man's existence, admitted of passionate argument and anxious
+deliberation whether to resolve them thus or thus, with heroic hazard
+and experiment, which on the losing side proved to be vice, and on
+the winning virtue.  For there was passionate argument once what
+shape a man's teeth should be, nor can the colour of his hair be
+considered as ever yet settled, or likely to be settled for a very
+long time.
+
+It is one against legion when a creature tries to differ from his own
+past selves.  He must yield or die if he wants to differ widely, so
+as to lack natural instincts, such as hunger or thirst, or not to
+gratify them.  It is more righteous in a man that he should "eat
+strange food," and that his cheek should "so much as lank not," than
+that he should starve if the strange food be at his command.  His
+past selves are living in him at this moment with the accumulated
+life of centuries.  "Do this, this, this, which we too have done, and
+found our profit in it," cry the souls of his forefathers within him.
+Faint are the far ones, coming and going as the sound of bells wafted
+on to a high mountain; loud and clear are the near ones, urgent as an
+alarm of fire.  "Withhold," cry some.  "Go on boldly," cry others.
+"Me, me, me, revert hitherward, my descendant," shouts one as it were
+from some high vantage-ground over the heads of the clamorous
+multitude.  "Nay, but me, me, me," echoes another; and our former
+selves fight within us and wrangle for our possession.  Have we not
+here what is commonly called an INTERNAL TUMULT, when dead pleasures
+and pains tug within us hither and thither?  Then may the battle be
+decided by what people are pleased to call our own experience.  Our
+own indeed!  What is our own save by mere courtesy of speech?  A
+matter of fashion.  Sanction sanctifieth and fashion fashioneth.  And
+so with death--the most inexorable of all conventions.
+
+However this may be, we may assume it as an axiom with regard to
+actions acquired after birth, that we never do them automatically
+save as the result of long practice, and after having thus acquired
+perfect mastery over the action in question.
+
+But given the practice or experience, and the intricacy of the
+process to be performed appears to matter very little.  There is
+hardly anything conceivable as being done by man, which a certain
+amount of familiarity will not enable him to do, as it were
+mechanically and without conscious effort.  "The most complex and
+difficult movements," writes Mr Darwin, "can in time be performed
+without the least effort or consciousness."  All the main business of
+life is done thus unconsciously or semi-unconsciously.  For what is
+the main business of life?  We work that we may eat and digest,
+rather than eat and digest that we may work; this, at any rate, is
+the normal state of things:  the more important business then is that
+which is carried on unconsciously.  So again the action of the brain,
+which goes on prior to our realising the idea in which it results, is
+not perceived by the individual.  So also all the deeper springs of
+action and conviction.  The residuum with which we fret and worry
+ourselves is a mere matter of detail, as the higgling and haggling of
+the market, which is not over the bulk of the price, but over the
+last halfpenny.
+
+Shall we say, then, that a baby of a day old sucks (which involves
+the whole principle of the pump, and hence a profound practical
+knowledge of the laws of pneumatics and hydrostatics), digests,
+oxygenises its blood (millions of years before Sir Humphry Davy
+discovered oxygen), sees and hears--all most difficult and
+complicated operations, involving a knowledge of the facts concerning
+optics and acoustics, compared with which the discoveries of Newton
+sink into utter insignificance?  Shall we say that a baby can do all
+these things at once, doing them so well and so regularly, without
+being even able to direct its attention to them, and without mistake,
+and at the same time not know how to do them, and never have done
+them before?
+
+Such an assertion would be a contradiction to the whole experience of
+mankind.  Surely the onus probandi must rest with him who makes it.
+
+A man may make a lucky hit now and again by what is called a fluke,
+but even this must be only a little in advance of his other
+performances of the same kind.  He may multiply seven by eight by a
+fluke after a little study of the multiplication table, but he will
+not be able to extract the cube root of 4913 by a fluke, without long
+training in arithmetic, any more than an agricultural labourer would
+be able to operate successfully for cataract.  If, then, a grown man
+cannot perform so simple an operation as that we will say, for
+cataract, unless he have been long trained in other similar
+operations, and until he has done what comes to the same thing many
+times over, with what show of reason can we maintain that one who is
+so far less capable than a grown man, can perform such vastly more
+difficult operations, without knowing how to do them, and without
+ever having done them before?  There is no sign of "fluke" about the
+circulation of a baby's blood.  There may perhaps be some little
+hesitation about its earliest breathing, but this, as a general rule,
+soon passes over, both breathing and circulation, within an hour
+after birth, being as regular and easy as at any time during life.
+Is it reasonable, then, to say that the baby does these things
+without knowing how to do them, and without ever having done them
+before, and continues to do them by a series of lifelong flukes?
+
+It would be well if those who feel inclined to hazard such an
+assertion would find some other instances of intricate processes gone
+through by people who know nothing about them, and never had any
+practice therein.  What IS to know how to do a thing?  Surely to do
+it.  What is proof that we know how to do a thing?  Surely the fact
+that we can do it.  A man shows that he knows how to throw the
+boomerang by throwing the boomerang.  No amount of talking or writing
+can get over this; ipso facto, that a baby breathes and makes its
+blood circulate, it knows how to do so and the fact that it does not
+know its own knowledge is only proof of the perfection of that
+knowledge, and of the vast number of past occasions on which it must
+have been exercised already.  As we have said already, it is less
+obvious when the baby could have gained its experience, so as to be
+able so readily to remember exactly what to do; but it is more easy
+to suppose that the necessary occasions cannot have been wanting,
+than that the power which we observe should have been obtained
+without practice and memory.
+
+If we saw any self-consciousness on the baby's part about its
+breathing or circulation, we might suspect that it had had less
+experience, or profited less by its experience, than its neighbours--
+exactly in the same manner as we suspect a deficiency of any quality
+which we see a man inclined to parade.  We all become introspective
+when we find that we do not know our business, and whenever we are
+introspective we may generally suspect that we are on the verge of
+unproficiency.  Unfortunately, in the case of sickly children, we
+observe that they sometimes do become conscious of their breathing
+and circulation, just as in later life we become conscious that we
+have a liver or a digestion.  In that case there is always something
+wrong.  The baby that becomes aware of its breathing does not know
+how to breathe, and will suffer for his ignorance and incapacity,
+exactly in the same way as he will suffer in later life for ignorance
+and incapacity in any other respect in which his peers are commonly
+knowing and capable.  In the case of inability to breath, the
+punishment is corporal, breathing being a matter of fashion, so old
+and long settled that nature can admit of no departure from the
+established custom, and the procedure in case of failure is as much
+formulated as the fashion itself in the case of the circulation, the
+whole performance has become one so utterly of rote, that the mere
+discovery that we could do it at all was considered one of the
+highest flights of human genius.
+
+It has been said a day will come when the Polar ice shall have
+accumulated, till it forms vast continents many thousands of feet
+above the level of the sea, all of solid ice.  The weight of this
+mass will, it is believed, cause the world to topple over on its
+axis, so that the earth will be upset as an ant-heap overturned by a
+ploughshare.  In that day time icebergs will come crunching against
+our proudest cities, razing them from off the face of the earth as
+though they were made of rotten blotting-paper.  There is no respect
+now of Handel nor of Shakespeare; the works of Rembrandt and Bellini
+fossilise at the bottom of the sea.  Grace, beauty, and wit, all that
+is precious in music, literature, and art--all gone.  In the morning
+there was Europe.  In the evening there are no more populous cities
+nor busy hum of men, but a sea of jagged ice, a lurid sunset, and the
+doom of many ages.  Then shall a scared remnant escape in places, and
+settle upon the changed continent when the waters have subsided--a
+simple people, busy hunting shellfish on the drying ocean beds, and
+with little time for introspection yet they can read and write and
+sum, for by that time these accomplishments will have become
+universal, and will be acquired as easily as we now learn to talk;
+but they do so as a matter of course, and without self-consciousness.
+Also they make the simpler kinds of machinery too easily to be able
+to follow their own operations--the manner of their own
+apprenticeship being to them as a buried city.  May we not imagine
+that, after the lapse of another ten thousand years or so, some one
+of them may again become cursed with lust of introspection, and a
+second Harvey may astonish the world by discovering that it can read
+and write, and that steam-engines do not grow, but are made?  It may
+be safely prophesied that he will die a martyr, and be honoured in
+the fourth generation.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV--APPLICATION OF THE FOREGOING PRINCIPLES TO ACTIONS AND
+HABITS ACQUIRED BEFORE BIRTH
+
+
+
+But if we once admit the principle that consciousness and volition
+have a tendency to vanish as soon as practice has rendered any habit
+exceedingly familiar, so that the mere presence of an elaborate but
+unconscious performance shall carry with it a presumption of infinite
+practice, we shall find it impossible to draw the line at those
+actions which we see acquired after birth, no matter at how early a
+period.  The whole history and development of the embryo in all its
+stages forces itself on our consideration.  Birth has been made too
+much of.  It is a salient feature in the history of the individual,
+but not more salient than a hundred others, and far less so than the
+commencement of his existence as a single cell uniting in itself
+elements derived from both parents, or perhaps than any point in his
+whole existence as an embryo.  For many years after we are born we
+are still very incomplete.  We cease to oxygenise our blood
+vicariously as soon as we are born, but we still derive our
+sustenance from our mothers.  Birth is but the beginning of doubt,
+the first hankering after scepticism, the dreaming of a dawn of
+trouble, the end of certainty and of settled convictions.  Not but
+what before birth there have been unsettled convictions (more's the
+pity) with not a few, and after birth we have still so made up our
+minds upon many points as to have no further need of reflection
+concerning them; nevertheless, in the main, birth is the end of that
+time when we really knew our business, and the beginning of the days
+wherein we know not what we would do, or do.  It is therefore the
+beginning of consciousness, and infancy is as the dosing of one who
+turns in his bed on waking, and takes another short sleep before he
+rises.  When we were yet unborn, our thoughts kept the roadway
+decently enough; then were we blessed; we thought as every man
+thinks, and held the same opinions as our fathers and mothers had
+done upon nearly every subject.  Life was not an art--and a very
+difficult art--much too difficult to be acquired in a lifetime; it
+was a science of which we were consummate masters.
+
+In this sense, then, birth may indeed be looked upon as the most
+salient feature in a man's life; but this is not at all the sense in
+which it is commonly so regarded.  It is commonly considered as the
+point at which we begin to live.  More truly it is the point at which
+we leave off knowing how to live.
+
+A chicken, for example, is never so full of consciousness, activity,
+reasoning faculty, and volition, as when it is an embryo in the
+eggshell, making bones, and flesh, and feathers, and eyes, and claws,
+with nothing but a little warmth and white of egg to make them from.
+This is indeed to make bricks with but a small modicum of straw.
+There is no man in the whole world who knows consciously and
+articulately as much as a half-hatched hen's egg knows unconsciously.
+Surely the egg in its own way must know quite as much as the chicken
+does.  We say of the chicken that it knows how to run about as soon
+as it is hatched.  So it does; but had it no knowledge before it was
+hatched?  What made it lay the foundations of those limbs which
+should enable it to run about?  What made it grow a horny tip to its
+bill before it was hatched, so that it might peck all round the
+larger end of the eggshell and make a hole for itself to get out at?
+Having once got outside the eggshell, the chicken throws away this
+horny tip; but is it reasonable to suppose that it would have grown
+it at all unless it had known that it would want something with which
+to break the eggshell?  And again, is it in the least agreeable to
+our experience that such elaborate machinery should be made without
+endeavour, failure, perseverance, intelligent contrivance,
+experience, and practice?
+
+In the presence of such considerations, it seems impossible to
+refrain from thinking that there must be a closer continuity of
+identity, life, and memory, between successive generations than we
+generally imagine.  To shear the thread of life, and hence of memory,
+between one generation and its successor, is so to speak, a brutal
+measure, an act of intellectual butchery, and like all such strong
+high-handed measures, a sign of weakness in him who is capable of it
+till all other remedies have been exhausted.  It is mere horse
+science, akin to the theories of the convulsionists in the geological
+kingdom, and of the believers in the supernatural origin of the
+species of plants and animals.  Yet it is to be feared that we have
+not a few among us who would feel shocked rather at the attempt
+towards a milder treatment of the facts before them, than at a
+continuance of the present crass tyranny with which we try to crush
+them inside our preconceived opinions.  It is quite common to hear
+men of education maintain that not even when it was on the point of
+being hatched, had the chicken sense enough to know that it wanted to
+get outside the eggshell.  It did indeed peck all round the end of
+the shell, which, if it wanted to get out, would certainly be the
+easiest way of effecting its purpose; but it did not, they say, peck
+because it was aware of this, but "promiscuously."  Curious, such a
+uniformity of promiscuous action among so many eggs for so many
+generations.  If we see a man knock a hole in a wall on finding that
+he cannot get out of a place by any other means, and if we see him
+knock this hole in a very workmanlike way, with an implement with
+which he has been at great pains to make for a long the past, but
+which he throws away as soon as he has no longer use for it, thus
+showing that he had made it expressly for the purpose of escape, do
+we say that this person made the implement and broke the wall of his
+prison promiscuously?  No jury would acquit a burglar on these
+grounds.  Then why, without much more evidence to the contrary than
+we have, or can hope to have, should we not suppose that with
+chickens, as with men, signs of contrivance are indeed signs of
+contrivance, however quick, subtle, and untraceable, the contrivance
+may be?  Again, I have heard people argue that though the chicken,
+when nearly hatched, had such a glimmering of sense that it pecked
+the shell because it wanted to get out, yet that it is not
+conceivable that, so long before it was hatched, it should have had
+the sense to grow the horny tip to its bill for use when wanted.
+This, at any rate, they say, it must have grown, as the persons
+previously referred to would maintain, promiscuously.
+
+Now no one indeed supposes that the chicken does what it does, with
+the same self-consciousness with which a tailor makes a suit of
+clothes.  Not any one who has thought upon the subject is likely to
+do it so great an injustice.  The probability is that it knows what
+it is about to an extent greater than any tailor ever did or will,
+for, to say the least of it, many thousands of years to come.  It
+works with such absolute certainty and so vast an experience, that it
+is utterly incapable of following the operations of its own mind--as
+accountants have been known to add up long columns of pounds,
+shillings, and pence, running the three fingers of one hand, a finger
+for each column, up the page, and putting the result down correctly
+at the bottom, apparently without an effort.  In the case of the
+accountant, we say that the processes which his mind goes through are
+so rapid and subtle as to elude his own power of observation as well
+as ours.  We do not deny that his mind goes though processes of some
+kind; we very readily admit that it must do so, and say that these
+processes are so rapid and subtle, owing, as a general rule, to long
+experience in addition.  Why then should we find it so difficult to
+conceive that this principle, which we observe to play so large a
+part in mental physiology, wherever we can observe mental physiology
+at all, may have a share also in the performance of intricate
+operations otherwise inexplicable, though the creature performing
+them is not man, or man only in embryo?
+
+Again, after the chicken is hatched, it grows more feathers and bones
+and blood, but we still say that it knows nothing about all this.
+What then do we say it DOES know?  One is almost ashamed to confess
+that we only credit it with knowing what it appears to know by
+processes which we find it exceedingly easy to follow, or perhaps
+rather, which we find it absolutely impossible to avoid following, as
+recognising too great a family likeness between them, and those which
+are most easily followed in our own minds, to be able to sit down in
+comfort under a denial of the resemblance.  Thus, for example, if we
+see a chicken running away from a fox, we do admit that the chicken
+knows the fox would kill it if it caught it.
+
+On the other hand, if we allow that the half-hatched chicken grew the
+horny tip to be ready for use, with an intensity of unconscious
+contrivance which can be only attributed to experience, we are driven
+to admit that from the first moment the men began to sit upon it--and
+earlier too than this--the egg was always full of consciousness and
+volition, and that during its embryological condition the unhatched
+chicken is doing exactly what it continues doing from the moment it
+is hatched till it dies; that is to say, attempting to better itself,
+doing (as Aristotle says all creatures do all things upon all
+occasions) what it considers most for its advantage under the
+existing circumstances.  What it may think most advantageous will
+depend, while it is in the eggshell, upon exactly the same causes as
+will influence its opinions in later life--to wit, upon its habits,
+its past circumstances and ways of thinking; for there is nothing, as
+Shakespeare tells us, good or ill, but thinking makes it so.
+
+The egg thinks feathers much more to its advantage than hair or fur,
+and much more easily made.  If it could speak, it would probably tell
+us that we could make them ourselves very easily after a few lessons,
+if we took the trouble to try, but that hair was another matter,
+which it really could not see how any protoplasm could be got to
+make.  Indeed, during the more intense and active part of our
+existence, in the earliest stages, that is to say, of our
+embryological life, we could probably have turned our protoplasm into
+feathers instead of hair if we had cared about doing so.  If the
+chicken can make feathers, there seems no sufficient reason for
+thinking that we cannot do so, beyond the fact that we prefer hair,
+and have preferred it for so many ages that we have lost the art
+along with the desire of making feathers, if indeed any of our
+ancestors ever possessed it.  The stuff with which we make hair is
+practically the same as that with which chickens make feathers.  It
+is nothing but protoplasm, and protoplasm is like certain prophecies,
+out of which anything can be made by the creature which wants to make
+it.  Everything depends upon whether a creature knows its own mind
+sufficiently well, and has enough faith in its own powers of
+achievement.  When these two requisites are wanting, the strongest
+giant cannot lift a two-ounce weight; when they are given, a bullock
+can take an eyelash out of its eye with its hind-foot, or a minute
+jelly speck can build itself a house out of various materials which
+it will select according to its purpose with the nicest care, though
+it have neither brain to think with, nor eyes to see with, nor hands
+nor feet to work with, nor is it anything but a minute speck of
+jelly--faith and protoplasm only.
+
+That this is indeed so, the following passage from Dr. Carpenter's
+"Mental Physiology" may serve to show:-
+
+"The simplest type of an animal consists of a minute mass of
+'protoplasm,' or living jelly, which is not yet DIFFERENTIATED into
+'organs;' every part having the same endowments, and taking an equal
+share in every action which the creature performs.  One of these
+'jelly specks,' the amoeba, moves itself about by changing the form
+of its body, extemporising a foot (or pseudopodium), first in one
+direction, and then in another; and then, when it has met with a
+nutritive particle, extemporises a stomach for its reception, by
+wrapping its soft body around it.  Another, instead of going about in
+search of food, remains in one place, but projects its protoplasmic
+substance into long pseudopodia, which entrap and draw in very minute
+particles, or absorb nutrient material from the liquid through which
+they extend themselves, and are continually becoming fused (as it
+were) into the central body, which is itself continually giving off
+new pseudopodia.  Now we can scarcely conceive that a creature of
+such simplicity should possess any distinct CONSCIOUSNESS of its
+needs" (why not?), "or that its actions should be directed by any
+INTENTION of its own; and yet the writer has lately found results of
+the most singular elaborateness to be wrought out by the
+instrumentality of these minute jelly specks, which build up tests or
+casings of the most regular geometrical symmetry of form, and of the
+most artificial construction."
+
+On this Dr. Carpenter remarks:- "Suppose a human mason to be put down
+by the side of a pile of stones of various shapes and sizes, and to
+be told to build a dome of these, smooth on both surfaces, without
+using more than the least possible quantity of a very tenacious, but
+very costly, cement, in holding the stones together.  If he
+accomplished this well, he would receive credit for great
+intelligence and skill.  Yet this is exactly what these little 'jelly
+specks' do on a most minute scale; the 'tests' they construct, when
+highly magnified, bearing comparison with the most skilful masonry of
+man.  From THE SAME SANDY BOTTOM one species picks up the COARSER
+quartz grains, cements them together with PHOSPHATE OF IRON secreted
+from its own substance" (should not this rather be, "which it has
+contrived in some way or other to manufacture"?) and thus constructs
+a flask-shaped 'test,' having a short neck and a large single
+orifice.  Another picks up the FINEST grains, and puts them together,
+with the same cement, into perfectly spherical 'tests' of the most
+extraordinary finish, perforated with numerous small pores disposed
+at pretty regular intervals.  Another selects the MINUTEST sand
+grains and the terminal portions of sponge spicules, and works them
+up together--apparently with no cement at all, by the mere laying of
+the spicules--into perfect white spheres, like homoeopathic globules,
+each having a single-fissured orifice.  And another, which makes a
+straight, many-chambered 'test,' that resembles in form the chambered
+shell of an orthoceratite--the conical mouth of each chamber
+projecting into the cavity of the next--while forming the walls of
+its chambers of ordinary sand grains rather loosely held together,
+shapes the conical mouth of the successive chambers by firmly
+cementing together grains of ferruginous quartz, which it must have
+picked out from the general mass."
+
+"To give these actions," continues Dr. Carpenter, "the vague
+designation of 'instinctive' does not in the least help us to account
+for them, since what we want is to discover the MECHANISM by which
+they are worked out; and it is most difficult to conceive how so
+artificial a selection can be made by a creature so simple" (Mental
+Physiology, 4th ed. pp. 41-43)
+
+This is what protoplasm can do when it has the talisman of faith--of
+faith which worketh all wonders, either in the heavens above, or in
+the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth.  Truly if a man
+have faith, even as a grain of mustard seed, though he may not be
+able to remove mountains, he will at any rate be able to do what is
+no less difficult--make a mustard plant.
+
+Yet this is but a barren kind of comfort, for we have not, and in the
+nature of things cannot have, sufficient faith in the unfamiliar,
+inasmuch as the very essence of faith involves the notion of
+familiarity, which can grow but slowly, from experience to
+confidence, and can make no sudden leap at any time.  Such faith
+cannot be founded upon reason,--that is to say, upon a recognised
+perception on the part of the person holding it that he is holding
+it, and of the reasons for his doing so--or it will shift as other
+reasons come to disturb it.  A house built upon reason is a house
+built upon the sand.  It must be built upon the current cant and
+practice of one's peers, for this is the rock which, though not
+immovable, is still most hard to move.
+
+But however this may be, we observe broadly that the intensity of the
+will to make this or that, and of the confidence that one can make
+it, depends upon the length of time during which the maker's
+forefathers have wanted the same thing before it; the older the
+custom the more inveterate the habit, and, with the exception,
+perhaps, that the reproductive system is generally the crowning act
+of development--an exception which I will hereafter explain--the
+earlier its manifestation, until, for some reason or another, we
+relinquish it and take to another, which we must, as a general rule,
+again adhere to for a vast number of generations, before it will
+permanently supplant the older habit.  In our own case, the habit of
+breathing like a fish through gills may serve as an example.  We have
+now left off this habit, yet we did it formerly for so many
+generations that we still do it a little; it still crosses our
+embryological existence like a faint memory or dream, for not easily
+is an inveterate habit broken.  On the other hand--again speaking
+broadly--the more recent the habit the later the fashion of its
+organ, as with the teeth, speech, and the higher intellectual powers,
+which are too new for development before we are actually born.
+
+But to return for a short time to Dr. Carpenter.  Dr. Carpenter
+evidently feels, what must indeed be felt by every candid mind, that
+there is no sufficient reason for supposing that these little specks
+of jelly, without brain or eyes, or stomach, or hands, or feet, but
+the very lowest known form of animal life, are not imbued with a
+consciousness of their needs, and the reasoning faculties which shall
+enable them to gratify those needs in a manner, all things
+considered, equalling the highest flights of the ingenuity of the
+highest animal--man.  This is no exaggeration.  It is true, that in
+an earlier part of the passage, Dr. Carpenter has said that we can
+scarcely conceive so simple a creature to "possess any distinct
+CONSCIOUSNESS of its needs, or that its actions should be directed by
+any intention of its own;" but, on the other hand, a little lower
+down he says, that if a workman did what comes to the same thing as
+what the amoeba does, he "would receive credit for great intelligence
+and skill."  Now if an amoeba can do that, for which a workman would
+receive credit as for a highly skilful and intelligent performance,
+the amoeba should receive no less credit than the workman; he should
+also be no less credited with skill and intelligence, which words
+unquestionably involve a distinct consciousness of needs and an
+action directed by an intention of its own.  So that Dr. Carpenter
+seems rather to blow hot and cold with one breath.  Nevertheless
+there can be no doubt to which side the minds of the great majority
+of mankind will incline upon the evidence before them; they will say
+that the creature is highly reasonable and intelligent, though they
+would readily admit that long practice and familiarity may have
+exhausted its powers of attention to all the stages of its own
+performance, just as a practised workman in building a wall certainly
+does not consciously follow all the processes which he goes through.
+
+As an example, however, of the extreme dislike which philosophers of
+a certain school have for making the admissions which seem somewhat
+grudgingly conceded by Dr. Carpenter, we may take the paragraph which
+immediately follows the ones which we have just quoted.  Dr.
+Carpenter there writes:-
+
+"The writer has often amused himself and others, when by the seaside,
+with getting a terebella (a marine worm that cases its body in a
+sandy tube) out of its house, and then, putting it into a saucer of
+water with a supply of sand and comminuted shell, watching its
+appropriation of these materials in constructing a new tube.  The
+extended tentacles soon spread themselves over the bottom of the
+saucer and lay hold of whatever comes in their way, 'all being fish
+that comes to their net,' and in half an hour or thereabouts the new
+house is finished, though on a very rude and artificial type.  Now
+here the organisation is far higher; the instrumentality obviously
+serves the needs of the animal and suffices for them; and we
+characterise the action, on account of its uniformity and apparent
+UNintelligence, as instinctive."
+
+No comment will, one would think, be necessary to make the reader
+feel that the difference between the terebella and the amoeba is one
+of degree rather than kind, and that if the action of the second is
+as conscious and reasonable as that, we will say, of a bird making
+her nest, the action of the first should be so also.  It is only a
+question of being a little less skilful, or more so, but skill and
+intelligence would seem present in both cases.  Moreover, it is more
+clever of the terebella to have made itself the limbs with which it
+can work, than of the amoeba to be able to work without the limbs;
+and perhaps it is more sensible also to want a less elaborate
+dwelling, provided it is sufficient for practical purposes.  But
+whether the terebella be less intelligent than the amoeba or not, it
+does quite enough to establish its claim to intelligence of a higher
+order; and one does not see ground for the satisfaction which Dr.
+Carpenter appears to find at having, as it were, taken the taste of
+the amoeba's performance out of our mouth, by setting us about the
+less elaborate performance of the terebella, which he thinks we can
+call unintelligent and instinctive.
+
+I may be mistaken in the impression I have derived from the
+paragraphs I have quoted.  I commonly say they give me the impression
+that I have tried to convey to the reader, i.e., that the writer's
+assent to anything like intelligence, or consciousness of needs, an
+animal low down in the scale of life, is grudging, and that he is
+more comfortable when he has got hold of onto to which he can point
+and say that mere, at any rate, is an unintelligent and merely
+instinctive creature.  I have only called attention to the passage as
+an example of the intellectual bias of a large number of exceedingly
+able and thoughtful persons, among whom, so far as I am able to form
+an opinion at all, few have greater claims to our respectful
+attention than Dr. Carpenter himself.
+
+For the embryo of a chicken, then, we damn exactly the same kind of
+reasoning power and contrivance which we damn for the amoeba, or for
+our own intelligent performances in later life.  We do not claim for
+it much, if any, perception of its own forethought, for we know very
+well that it is among the most prominent features of intellectual
+activity that, after a number of repetitions, it ceases to be
+perceived, and that it does not, in ordinary cases, cease to be
+perceived till after a very great number of repetitions.  The fact
+that the embryo chicken makes itself always as nearly as may be in
+the same way, would lead us to suppose that it would be unconscious
+of much of its own action, PROVIDED IT WERE ALWAYS THE SAME CHICKEN
+WHICH MADE ITSELF OVER AND OVER AGAIN.  So far we can see, it always
+IS unconscious of the greater part of its own wonderful performance.
+Surely then we have a presumption that IT IS THE SAME CHICKEN WHICH
+MAKES ITSELF OVER AND OVER AGAIN; for such unconsciousness is not
+won, so far as our experience goes, by any other means than by
+frequent repetition of the same act on the part of one and the same
+individual.  How this can be we shall perceive in subsequent
+chapters.  In the meantime, we may say that all knowledge and
+volition would seem to be merely parts of the knowledge and volition
+of the primordial cell (whatever this may be), which slumbers but
+never dies--which has grown, and multiplied, and differentiated
+itself into the compound life of the womb, and which never becomes
+conscious of knowing what it has once learnt effectually, till it is
+for some reason on the point of, or in danger of, forgetting it.
+
+The action, therefore, of an embryo making its way up in the world
+from a simple cell to a baby, developing for itself eyes, ears,
+hands, and feet while yet unborn, proves to be exactly of one and the
+same kind as that of a man of fifty who goes into the City and tells
+his broker to buy him so many Great Northern A shares--that is to
+say, an effort of the will exercised in due course on a balance of
+considerations as to the immediate expediency, and guided by past
+experience; while children who do not reach birth are but prenatal
+spendthrifts, ne'er-do-weels, inconsiderate innovators, the
+unfortunate in business, either through their own fault or that of
+others, or through inevitable mischances, beings who are culled out
+before birth instead of after; so that even the lowest idiot, the
+most contemptible in health or beauty, may yet reflect with pride
+that they were BORN.  Certainly we observe that those who have had
+good fortune (mother and sole cause of virtue, and sole virtue in
+itself), and have profited by their experience, and known their
+business best before birth, so that they made themselves both to be
+and to look well, do commonly on an average prove to know it best in
+after-life:  they grow their clothes best who have grown their limbs
+best.  It is rare that those who have not remembered how to finish
+their own bodies fairly well should finish anything well in later
+life.  But how small is the addition to their unconscious attainments
+which even the Titans of human intellect have consciously
+accomplished, in comparison with the problems solved by the meanest
+baby living, nay, even by one whose birth is untimely!  In other
+words, how vast is that back knowledge over which we have gone fast
+asleep, through the prosiness of perpetual repetition; and how little
+in comparison, is that whose novelty keeps it still within the scope
+of our conscious perception!  What is the discovery of the laws of
+gravitation as compared with the knowledge which sleeps in every
+hen's egg upon a kitchen shelf?
+
+It is all a matter of habit and fashion.  Thus we see kings and
+councillors of the earth admired for facing death before what they
+are pleased to call dishonour.  If, on being required to go without
+anything they have been accustomed to, or to change their habits, or
+do what is unusual in the case of other kings under like
+circumstances, then, if they but fold their cloak decently around
+them, and die upon the spot of shame at having had it even required
+of them to do thus or thus, then are they kings indeed, of old race,
+that know their business from generation to generation.  Or if, we
+will say, a prince, on having his dinner brought to him ill-cooked,
+were to feel the indignity so keenly as that he should turn his face
+to the wall, and breathe out his wounded soul in one sigh, do we not
+admire him as a "REAL prince," who knows the business of princes so
+well that he can conceive of nothing foreign to it in connection with
+himself, the bare effort to realise a state of things other than what
+princes have been accustomed to being immediately fatal to him?  Yet
+is there no less than this in the demise of every half-hatched hen's
+egg, shaken rudely by a schoolboy, or neglected by a truant mother;
+for surely the prince would not die if he knew how to do otherwise,
+and the hen's egg only dies of being required to do something to
+which it is not accustomed.
+
+But the further consideration of this and other like reflections
+would too long detain us.  Suffice it that we have established the
+position that all living creatures which show any signs of
+intelligence, must certainly each one have already gone through the
+embryonic stages an infinite number of times, or they could no more
+have achieved the intricate process of self-development
+unconsciously, than they could play the piano unconsciously without
+any previous knowledge of the instrument.  It remains, therefore, to
+show the when and where of their having done so, and this leads us
+naturally to the subject of the following chapter--Personal Identity.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V--PERSONAL IDENTITY
+
+
+
+"Strange difficulties have been raised by some," says Bishop Butler,
+"concerning personal identity, or the sameness of living agents as
+implied in the notion of our existing now and hereafter, or indeed in
+any two consecutive moments."  But in truth it is not easy to see the
+strangeness of the difficulty, if the words either "personal" or
+"identity" are used in any strictness.
+
+Personality is one of those ideas with which we are so familiar that
+we have lost sight of the foundations upon which it rests.  We regard
+our personality as a simple definite whole; as a plain, palpable,
+individual thing, which can be seen going about the streets or
+sitting indoors at home, which lasts us our lifetime, and about the
+confines of which no doubt can exist in the minds of reasonable
+people.  But in truth this "we," which looks so simple and definite,
+is a nebulous and indefinable aggregation of many component parts
+which war not a little among themselves, our perception of our
+existence at all being perhaps due to this very clash of warfare, as
+our sense of sound and light is due to the jarring of vibrations.
+Moreover, as the component parts of our identity change from moment
+to moment, our personality becomes a thing dependent upon the
+present, which has no logical existence, but lives only upon the
+sufferance of times past and future, slipping out of our hands into
+the domain of one or other of these two claimants the moment we try
+to apprehend it.  And not only is our personality as fleeting as the
+present moment, but the parts which compose it blend some of them so
+imperceptibly into, and are so inextricably linked on to, outside
+things which clearly form no part of our personality, that when we
+try to bring ourselves to book, and determine wherein we consist, or
+to draw a line as to where we begin or end, we find ourselves
+completely baffled.  There is nothing but fusion and confusion.
+
+Putting theology on one side, and dealing only with the common daily
+experience of mankind, our body is certainly part of our personality.
+With the destruction of our bodies, our personality, as far as we can
+follow it, comes to a full stop; and with every modification of them
+it is correspondingly modified.  But what are the limits of our
+bodies?  They are composed of parts, some of them so unessential as
+to be hardly included in personality at all, and to be separable from
+ourselves without perceptible effect, as the hair, nails, and daily
+waste of tissue.  Again, other parts are very important, as our
+hands, feet, arms, legs, &c., but still are no essential parts of our
+"self" or "soul," which continues to exist in spite of their
+amputation.  Other parts, as the brain, heart, and blood, are so
+essential that they cannot be dispensed with, yet it is impossible to
+say that personality consists in any one of them.
+
+Each one of these component members of our personality is continually
+dying and being born again, supported in this process by the food we
+eat, the water we drink, and the air we breathe; which three things
+link us on, and fetter us down, to the organic and inorganic world
+about us.  For our meat and drink, though no part of our personality
+before we eat and drink, cannot, after we have done so, be separated
+entirely from us without the destruction of our personality
+altogether, so far as we can follow it; and who shall say at what
+precise moment our food has or has not become part of ourselves?  A
+famished man eats food; after a short time his whole personality is
+so palpably affected that we know the food to have entered into him
+and taken, as it were, possession of him; but who can say at what
+precise moment it did so?  Thus we find that we are rooted into
+outside things and melt away into them, nor can any man say he
+consists absolutely in this or that, nor define himself so certainly
+as to include neither more nor less than himself; many undoubted
+parts of his personality being more separable from it, and changing
+it less when so separated, both to his own senses and those of other
+people, than other parts which are strictly speaking no parts at all.
+
+A man's clothes, for example, as they lie on a chair at night are no
+part of him, but when he wears them they would appear to be so, as
+being a kind of food which warms him and hatches him, and the loss of
+which may kill him of cold.  If this be denied, and a man's clothes
+be considered as no part of his self, nevertheless they, with his
+money, and it may perhaps be added his religious opinions, stamp a
+man's individuality as strongly as any natural feature could stamp
+it.  Change in style of dress, gain or loss of money, make a man feel
+and appear more changed than having his chin shaved or his nails cut.
+In fact, as soon as we leave common parlance on one side, and try for
+a scientific definition of personality, we find that there is none
+possible, any more than there can be a demonstration of the fact that
+we exist at all--a demonstration for which, as for that of a personal
+God, many have hunted but none have found.  The only solid foundation
+is, as in the case of the earth's crust, pretty near the surface of
+things; the deeper we try to go, the damper and darker and altogether
+more uncongenial we find it.  There is no knowing into what quagmire
+of superstition we may not find ourselves drawn, if we once cut
+ourselves adrift from those superficial aspects of things, in which
+alone our nature permits us to be comforted.
+
+Common parlance, however, settles the difficulty readily enough (as
+indeed it settles most others if they show signs of awkwardness) by
+the simple process of ignoring it:  we decline, and very properly, to
+go into the question of where personality begins and ends, but assume
+it to be known by every one, and throw the onus of not knowing it
+upon the over-curious, who had better think as their neighbours do,
+right or wrong, or there is no knowing into what villainy they may
+not presently fall.
+
+Assuming, then, that every one knows what is meant by the word
+"person" (and such superstitious bases as this are the foundations
+upon which all action, whether of man, beast, or plant, is
+constructed and rendered possible; for even the corn in the fields
+grows upon a superstitious basis as to its own existence, and only
+turns the earth and moisture into wheat through the conceit of its
+own ability to do so, without which faith it were powerless; and the
+lichen only grows upon the granite rock by first saying to itself, "I
+think I can do it;" so that it would not be able to grow unless it
+thought it could grow, and would not think it could grow unless it
+found itself able to grow, and thus spends its life arguing in a most
+vicious circle, basing its action upon a hypothesis, which hypothesis
+is in turn based upon its action)--assuming that we know what is
+meant by the word "person," we say that we are one and the same from
+the moment of our birth to the moment of our death, so that whatever
+is done by or happens to any one between birth and death, is said to
+happen to or be done by one individual.  This in practice is found to
+be sufficient for the law courts and the purposes of daily life,
+which, being full of hurry and the pressure of business, can only
+tolerate compromise, or conventional rendering of intricate
+phenomena.  When facts of extreme complexity have to be daily and
+hourly dealt with by people whose time is money, they must be
+simplified, and treated much as a painter treats them, drawing them
+in squarely, seizing the more important features, and neglecting all
+that does not assert itself as too essential to be passed over--hence
+the slang and cant words of every profession, and indeed all
+language; for language at best is but a kind of "patter," the only
+way, it is true, in many cases, of expressing our ideas to one
+another, but still a very bad way, and not for one moment comparable
+to the unspoken speech which we may sometimes have recourse to.  The
+metaphors and facons de parler to which even in the plainest speech
+we are perpetually recurring (as, for example, in this last two
+lines, "plain," "perpetually," and "recurring," are all words based
+on metaphor, and hence more or less liable to mislead) often deceive
+us, as though there were nothing more than what we see and say, and
+as though words, instead of being, as they are, the creatures of our
+convenience, had some claim to be the actual ideas themselves
+concerning which we are conversing.
+
+This is so well expressed in a letter I have recently received from a
+friend, now in New Zealand, and certainly not intended by him for
+publication, that I shall venture to quote the passage, but should
+say that I do so without his knowledge or permission which I should
+not be able to receive before this book must be completed.
+
+"Words, words, words," he writes, "are the stumbling-blocks in the
+way of truth.  Until you think of things as they are, and not of the
+words that misrepresent them, you cannot think rightly.  Words
+produce the appearance of hard and fast lines where there are none.
+Words divide; thus we call this a man, that an ape, that a monkey,
+while they are all only differentiations of the same thing.  To think
+of a thing they must be got rid of:  they are the clothes that
+thoughts wear--only the clothes.  I say this over and over again, for
+there is nothing of more importance.  Other men's words will stop you
+at the beginning of an investigation.  A man may play with words all
+his life, arranging them and rearranging them like dominoes.  If I
+could THINK to you without words you would understand me better."
+
+If such remarks as the above hold good at all, they do so with the
+words "personal identity."  The least reflection will show that
+personal identity in any sort of strictness is an impossibility.  The
+expression is one of the many ways in which we are obliged to scamp
+our thoughts through pressure of other business which pays us better.
+For surely all reasonable people will feel that an infant an hour
+before birth, when in the eye of the law he has no existence, and
+could not be called a peer for another sixty minutes, though his
+father were a peer, and already dead,--surely such an embryo is more
+personally identical with the baby into which he develops within an
+hour's time than the born baby is so with itself (if the expression
+may be pardoned), one, twenty, or it may be eighty years after birth.
+There is more sameness of matter; there are fewer differences of any
+kind perceptible by a third person; there is more sense of continuity
+on the part of the person himself; and far more of all that goes to
+make up our sense of sameness of personality between an embryo an
+hour before birth and the child on being born, than there is between
+the child just born and the man of twenty.  Yet there is no
+hesitation about admitting sameness of personality between these two
+last.
+
+On the other hand, if that hazy contradiction in terms, "personal
+identity," be once allowed to retreat behind the threshold of the
+womb, it has eluded us once for all.  What is true of one hour before
+birth is true of two, and so on till we get back to the impregnate
+ovum, which may fairly claim to have been personally identical with
+the man of eighty into which it ultimately developed, in spite of the
+fact that there is no particle of same matter nor sense of continuity
+between them, nor recognised community of instinct, nor indeed of
+anything which goes to the making up of that which we call identity.
+
+There is far more of all these things common to the impregnate ovum
+and the ovum immediately before impregnation, or again between the
+impregnate ovum, and both the ovum before impregnation and the
+spermatozoon which impregnated it.  Nor, if we admit personal
+identity between the ovum and the octogenarian, is there any
+sufficient reason why we should not admit it between the impregnate
+ovum and the two factors of which it is composed, which two factors
+are but offshoots from two distinct personalities, of which they are
+as much part as the apple is of the apple-tree; so that an impregnate
+ovum cannot without a violation of first principles be debarred from
+claiming personal identity with both its parents, and hence, by an
+easy chain of reasoning, WITH EACH OF THE IMPREGNATE OVA FROM WHICH
+ITS PARENTS WERE DEVELOPED.
+
+So that each ovum when impregnate should be considered not as
+descended from its ancestors, but as being a continuation of the
+personality of every ovum in the chain of its ancestry, which every
+ovum IT ACTUALLY IS quite as truly as the octogenarian IS the same
+identity with the ovum from which he has been developed.
+
+This process cannot stop short of the primordial cell, which again
+will probably turn out to be but a brief resting-place.  We therefore
+prove each one of us to BE ACTUALLY the primordial cell which never
+died nor dies, but has differentiated itself into the life of the
+world, all living beings whatever, being one with it, and members one
+of another.
+
+To look at the matter for a moment in another light, it will be
+admitted that if the primordial cell had been killed before leaving
+issue, all its possible descendants would have been killed at one and
+the same time.  It is hard to see how this single fact does not
+establish at the point, as it were, of a logical bayonet, an
+identity, between any creature and all others that are descended from
+it.
+
+In Bishop Butler's first dissertation on personality, we find
+expressed very much the same opinions as would follow from the above
+considerations, though they are mentioned by the Bishop only to be
+condemned, namely, "that personality is not a permanent but a
+transient thing; that it lives and dies, begins and ends continually;
+that no man can any more remain one and the same person two moments
+together, than two successive moments can be one and the same
+moment;" in which case, he continues, our present self would not be
+"in reality the same with the self of yesterday, but another like
+self or person coming up in its room and mistaken for it, to which
+another self will succeed to-morrow."  This view the Bishop proceeds
+to reduce to absurdity by saying, "It must be a fallacy upon
+ourselves to charge our present selves with anything we did, or to
+imagine our present selves interested in anything which befell us
+yesterday; or that our present self will be interested in what will
+befall us to-morrow.  This, I say, must follow, for if the self or
+person of to-day and that of to-morrow are not the same, but only
+like persons, the person of to-day is really no more interested in
+what will befall the person of to-morrow than in what will befall any
+other person.  It may be thought, perhaps, that this is not a just
+representation of the opinion we are speaking of, because those who
+maintain it allow that a person is the same as far back as his
+remembrance reaches.  And indeed they do use the words IDENTITY and
+SAME PERSON.  Nor will language permit these words to be laid aside,
+since, if they were, there must be I know not what ridiculous
+periphrasis substituted in the room of them.  But they cannot
+consistently with themselves mean that the person is really the same.
+For it is self-evident that the personality cannot be really the
+same, if, as they expressly assert, that in which it consists is not
+the same.  And as consistently with themselves they cannot, so I
+think it appears they do not mean that the person is really the same,
+but only that he is so in a fictitious sense; in such a sense only as
+they assert--for this they do assert--that any number of persons
+whatever may be the same person.  The bare unfolding of this notion,
+and laying it thus naked and open, seems the best confutation of it."
+
+This fencing, for it does not deserve the name of serious
+disputation, is rendered possible by the laxness with which the words
+"identical" and "identity" are commonly used.  Bishop Butler would
+not seriously deny that personality undergoes great changes between
+infancy and old age, and hence that it must undergo some change from
+moment to moment.  So universally is this recognised, that it is
+common to hear it said of such and such a man that he is not at all
+the person he was, or of such and such another that he is twice the
+man he used to be--expressions than which none nearer the truth can
+well be found.  On the other hand, those whom Bishop Butler is
+intending to confute would be the first to admit that, though there
+are many changes between infancy and old age, yet they come about in
+any one individual under such circumstances as we are all agreed in
+considering as the factors of personal identity rather than as
+hindrances thereto--that is to say, there has been no death on the
+part of the individual between any two phases of his existence, and
+any one phase has had a permanent though perhaps imperceptible effect
+upon all succeeding ones.  So that no one ever seriously argued in
+the manner supposed by Bishop Butler, unless with modifications and
+saving clauses, to which it does not suit his purpose to call
+attention.
+
+Identical strictly means "one and the same;" and if it were tied down
+to its strictest usage, it would indeed follow very logically, as we
+have said already, that no such thing as personal identity is
+possible, but that the case actually is as Bishop Butler has supposed
+his opponents without qualification to maintain it.  In common use,
+however, the word "identical" is taken to mean anything so like
+another that no vital or essential differences can be perceived
+between them; as in the case of two specimens of the same kind of
+plant, when we say they are identical in spite of considerable
+individual differences.  So with two impressions of a print from the
+same plate; so with the plate itself, which is somewhat modified with
+every impression taken from it.  In like manner "identity" is not
+held to its strict meaning--absolute sameness--but is predicated
+rightly of a past and present which are now very widely asunder,
+provided they have been continuously connected by links so small as
+not to give too sudden a sense of change at any one point; as, for
+instance, in the case of the Thames at Oxford and Windsor or again at
+Greenwich, we say the same river flows by all three places, by which
+we mean that much of the water at Greenwich has come down from Oxford
+and Windsor in a continuous stream.  How sudden a change at any one
+point, or how great a difference between the two extremes is
+sufficient to bar identity, is one of the most uncertain things
+imaginable, and seems to be decided on different grounds in different
+cases, sometimes very intelligibly, and again at others arbitrarily
+and capriciously.
+
+Personal identity is barred at one end, in the common opinion, by
+birth, and at the other by death.  Before birth, a child cannot
+complain either by himself or another, in such way as to set the law
+in motion; after death he is in like manner powerless to make himself
+felt by society, except in so far as he can do so by acts done before
+the breath has left his body.  At any point between birth and death
+he is liable, either by himself or another, to affect his fellow-
+creatures; hence, no two other epochs can be found of equal
+convenience for social purposes, and therefore they have been seized
+by society as settling the whole question of when personal identity
+begins and ends--society being rightly concerned with its own
+practical convenience, rather than with the abstract truth concerning
+its individual members.  No one who is capable of reflection will
+deny that the limitation of personality is certainly arbitrary to a
+degree as regards birth, nor yet that it is very possibly arbitrary
+as regards death; and as for intermediate points, no doubt it would
+be more strictly accurate to say, "you are the now phase of the
+person I met last night," or "you are the being which has been
+evolved from the being I met last night," than "you are the person I
+met last night."  But life is too short for the pen-phrases which
+would crowd upon us from every quarter, if we did not set our face
+against all that is under the surface of things, unless, that is to
+say, the going beneath the surface is, for some special chance of
+profit, excusable or capable of extenuation.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI--PERSONAL IDENTITY--(Continued)
+
+
+
+How arbitrary current notions concerning identity really are, may
+perhaps be perceived by reflecting upon some of the many different
+phases of reproduction.
+
+Direct reproduction in which a creation reproduces another, the
+facsimile, or nearly so, of itself may perhaps occur among the lowest
+forms of animal life; but it is certainly not the rule among beings
+of a higher order.
+
+A hen lays an egg, which egg becomes a chicken, which chicken, in the
+course of time, becomes a hen.
+
+A moth lays an egg, which egg becomes a caterpillar, which
+caterpillar, after going through several stages, becomes a chrysalis,
+which chrysalis becomes a moth.
+
+A medusa begets a ciliated larva, the larva begets a polyp, the polyp
+begets a strobila, and the strobila begets a medusa again; the cycle
+of reproduction being completed in the fourth generation.
+
+A frog lays an egg, which egg becomes a tadpole; the tadpole, after
+more or fewer intermediate stages, becomes a frog.
+
+The mammals lay eggs, which they hatch inside their own bodies,
+instead of outside them; but the difference is one of degree and not
+of kind.  In all these cases how difficult is it to say where
+identity begins or ends, or again where death begins or ends, or
+where reproduction begins or ends.
+
+How small and unimportant is the difference between the changes which
+a caterpillar undergoes before becoming a moth, and those of a
+strobila before becoming a medusa.  Yet in the one case we say the
+caterpillar does not die, but is changed (though, if the various
+changes in its existence be produced metagenetically, as is the case
+with many insects, it would appear to make a clean sweep of every
+organ of its existence, and start de novo, growing a head where its
+feet were, and so on--at least twice between its lives as caterpillar
+and butterfly); in this case, however, we say the caterpillar does
+not die, but is changed; being, nevertheless, one personality with
+the moth, into which it is developed.  But in the case of the
+strobila we say that it is not changed, but dies, and is no part of
+the personality of the medusa.
+
+We say the egg becomes the caterpillar, not by the death of the egg
+and birth of the caterpillar, but by the ordinary process of
+nutrition and waste--waste and repair--waste and repair continually.
+In like manner we say the caterpillar becomes the chrysalis, and the
+chrysalis the moth, not through the death of either one or the other,
+but by the development of the same creature, and the ordinary
+processes of waste and repair.  But the medusa after three or four
+cycles becomes the medusa again, not, we say, by these same processes
+of nutrition and waste, but by a series of generations, each one
+involving an actual birth and an actual death.  Why this difference?
+Surely only because the changes in the offspring of the medusa are
+marked by the leaving a little more husk behind them, and that husk
+less shrivelled, than is left on the occasion of each change between
+the caterpillar and the butterfly.  A little more residuum, which
+residuum, it may be, can move about; and though shrivelling from hour
+to hour, may yet leave a little more offspring before it is reduced
+to powder; or again, perhaps, because in the one case, though the
+actors are changed, they are changed behind the scenes, and come on
+in parts and dresses, more nearly resembling those of the original
+actors, than in the other.
+
+When the caterpillar emerges from the egg, almost all that was inside
+the egg has become caterpillar; the shell is nearly empty, and cannot
+move; therefore we do not count it, and call the caterpillar a
+continuation of the egg's existence, and personally identical with
+the egg.  So with the chrysalis and the moth; but after the moth has
+laid her eggs she can still move her wings about, and she looks
+nearly as large as she did before she laid them; besides, she may yet
+lay a few more, therefore we do not consider the moth's life as
+continued in the life of her eggs, but rather in their husk, which we
+still call the moth, and which we say dies in a day or two, and there
+is an end of it.  Moreover, if we hold the moth's life to be
+continued in that of her eggs, we shall be forced to admit her to be
+personally identical with each single egg, and, hence, each egg to be
+identical with every other egg, as far as the past, and community of
+memories, are concerned; and it is not easy at first to break the
+spell which words have cast around us, and to feel that one person
+may become many persons, and that many different persons may be
+practically one and the same person, as far as their past experience
+is concerned; and again, that two or more persons may unite and
+become one person, with the memories and experiences of both, though
+this has been actually the case with every one of us.
+
+Our present way of looking at these matters is perfectly right and
+reasonable, so long as we bear in mind that it is a facon de parler,
+a sort of hieroglyphic which shall stand for the course of nature,
+but nothing more.  Repair (as is now universally admitted by
+physiologists) is only a phase of reproduction, or rather
+reproduction and repair are only phases of the same power; and again,
+death and the ordinary daily waste of tissue, are phases of the same
+thing.  As for identity it is determined in any true sense of the
+word, not by death alone, but by a combination of death and failure
+of issue, whether of mind or body.
+
+To repeat.  Wherever there is a separate centre of thought and
+action, we see that it is connected with its successive stages of
+being, by a series of infinitely small changes from moment to moment,
+with, perhaps, at times more startling and rapid changes, but,
+nevertheless, with no such sudden, complete, and unrepaired break up
+of the preceding condition, as we shall agree in calling death.  The
+branching out from it at different times of new centres of thought
+and action, has commonly as little appreciable effect upon the
+parent-stock as the fall of an apple full of ripe seeds has upon an
+apple-tree; and though the life of the parent, from the date of the
+branching off of such personalities, is more truly continued in these
+than in the residuum of its own life, we should find ourselves
+involved in a good deal of trouble if we were commonly to take this
+view of the matter.  The residuum has generally the upper hand.  He
+has more money, and can eat up his new life more easily than his new
+life, him.  A moral residuum will therefore prefer to see the
+remainder of his life in his own person, than in that of his
+descendants, and will act accordingly.  Hence we, in common with most
+other living beings, ignore the offspring as forming part of the
+personality of the parent, except in so far as that we make the
+father liable for its support and for its extravagances (than which
+no greater proof need be wished that the law is at heart a
+philosopher, and perceives the completeness of the personal identity
+between father and son) for twenty-one years from birth.  In other
+respects we are accustomed, probably rather from considerations of
+practical convenience than as the result of pure reason, to ignore
+the identity between parent and offspring as completely as we ignore
+personality before birth.  With these exceptions, however, the common
+opinion concerning personal identity is reasonable enough, and is
+found to consist neither in consciousness of such identity, nor yet
+in the power of recollecting its various phases (for it is plain that
+identity survives the distinction or suspension of both these), but
+in the fact that the various stages appear to the majority of people
+to have been in some way or other linked together.
+
+For a very little reflection will show that identity, as commonly
+predicated of living agents, does not consist in identity of matter,
+of which there is no same particle in the infant, we will say, and
+the octogenarian into whom he has developed.  Nor, again, does it
+depend upon sameness of form or fashion; for personality is felt to
+survive frequent and radical modification of structure, as in the
+case of caterpillars and other insects.  Mr. Darwin, quoting from
+Professor Owen, tells us (Plants and Animals under Domestication,
+vol. ii. p. 362, ed. 1875), that in the case of what is called
+metagenetic development, "the new parts are not moulded upon the
+inner surfaces of the old ones.  The plastic force has changed its
+mode of operation.  THE OUTER CASE, AND ALL THAT GAVE FORM AND
+CHARACTER TO THE PRECEDENT INDIVIDUAL, PERISH, AND ARE CAST OFF; THEY
+ARE NOT CHANGED into the corresponding parts of the same individual.
+These are due to a new and distinct developmental process."
+Assuredly, there is more birth and death in the world than is dreamt
+of by the greater part of us; but it is so masked, and on the whole,
+so little to our purpose, that we fail to see it.  Yet radical and
+sweeping as the changes of organism above described must be, we do
+not feel them to be more a bar to personal identity than the
+considerable changes which take place in the structure of our own
+bodies between youth and old age.
+
+Perhaps the most striking illustration of this is to be found in the
+case of some Echinoderms, concerning which Mr. Darwin tells us, that
+"the animal in the second stage of development is formed almost like
+a bud within the animal of the first stage, the latter being then
+cast off like an old vestment, yet sometimes maintaining for a short
+period an independent vitality" ("Plants and Animals under
+Domestication," vol. ii. p. 362, ed. 1875).
+
+Nor yet does personality depend upon any consciousness or sense of
+such personality on the part of the creature itself--it is not likely
+that the moth remembers having been a caterpillar, more than we
+ourselves remember having been children of a day old.  It depends
+simply upon the fact that the various phases of existence have been
+linked together, by links which we agree in considering sufficient to
+cause identity, and that they have flowed the one out of the other in
+what we see as a continuous, though it may be at times, a troubled
+stream.  This is the very essence of personality, but it involves the
+probable unity of all animal and vegetable life, as being, in
+reality, nothing but one single creature, of which the component
+members are but, as it were, blood corpuscles or individual cells;
+life being a sort of leaven, which, if once introduced into the
+world, will leaven it altogether; or of fire, which will consume all
+it can burn; or of air or water, which will turn most things into
+themselves.  Indeed, no difficulty would probably be felt about
+admitting the continued existence of personal identity between
+parents and their offspring through all time (there being no SUDDEN
+break at any time between the existence of any maternal parent and
+that of its offspring), were it not that after a certain time the
+changes in outward appearance between descendants and ancestors
+become very great, the two seeming to stand so far apart, that it
+seems absurd in any way to say that they are one and the same being;
+much in the same way as after a time--though exactly when no one can
+say--the Thames becomes the sea.  Moreover, the separation of the
+identity is practically of far greater importance to it than its
+continuance.  We want to be ourselves; we do not want any one else to
+claim part and parcel of our identity.  This community of identities
+is not found to answer in everyday life.  When then our love of
+independence is backed up by the fact that continuity of life between
+parents and offspring is a matter which depends on things which are a
+good deal hidden, and that thus birth gives us an opportunity of
+pretending that there has been a sudden leap into a separate life;
+when also we have regard to the utter ignorance of embryology, which
+prevailed till quite recently, it is not surprising that our ordinary
+language should be found to have regard to what is important and
+obvious, rather than to what is not quite obvious, and is quite
+unimportant.
+
+Personality is the creature of time and space, changing, as time
+changes, imperceptibly; we are therefore driven to deal with it as
+with all continuous and blending things; as with time, for example,
+itself, which we divide into days, and seasons, and times, and years,
+into divisions that are often arbitrary, but coincide, on the whole,
+as nearly as we can make them do so, with the more marked changes
+which we can observe.  We lay hold, in fact, of anything we can
+catch; the most important feature in any existence as regards
+ourselves being that which we can best lay hold of rather than that
+which is most essential to the existence itself.  We can lay hold of
+the continued personality of the egg and the moth into which the egg
+develops, but it is less easy to catch sight of the continued
+personality between the moth and the eggs which she lays; yet the one
+continuation of personality is just as true and free from quibble as
+the other.  A moth becomes each egg that she lays, and that she does
+so, she will in good time show by doing, now that she has got a fresh
+start, as near as may be what she did when first she was an egg, and
+then a moth, before; and this I take it, so far as I can gather from
+looking at life and things generally, she would not be able to do if
+she had not travelled the same road often enough already, to be able
+to know it in her sleep and blindfold, that is to say, to remember it
+without any conscious act of memory.
+
+So also a grain of wheat is linked with an ear, containing, we will
+say, a dozen grains, by a series of changes so subtle that we cannot
+say at what moment the original grain became the blade, nor when each
+ear of the head became possessed of an individual centre of action.
+To say that each grain of the head is personally identical with the
+original grain would perhaps be an abuse of terms; but it can be no
+abuse to say that each grain is a continuation of the personality of
+the original grain, and if so, of every grain in the chain of its own
+ancestry; and that, as being such a continuation, it must be stored
+with the memories and experiences of its past existences, to be
+recollected under the circumstances most favourable to recollection,
+i.e., when under similar conditions to those when the impression was
+last made and last remembered.  Truly, then, in each case the new egg
+and the new grain IS the egg, and the grain from which its parent
+sprang, as completely as the full-grown ox is the calf from which it
+has grown.
+
+Again, in the case of some weeping trees, whose boughs spring up into
+fresh trees when they have reached the ground, who shall say at what
+time they cease to be members of the parent tree?  In the case of
+cuttings from plants it is easy to elude the difficulty by making a
+parade of the sharp and sudden act of separation from the parent
+stock, but this is only a piece of mental sleight of hand; the
+cutting remains as much part of its parent plant as though it had
+never been severed from it; it goes on profiting by the experience
+which it had before it was cut off, as much as though it had never
+been cut off at all.  This will be more readily seen in the case of
+worms which have been cut in half.  Let a worm be cut in half, and
+the two halves will become fresh worms; which of them is the original
+worm?  Surely both.  Perhaps no simpler case than this could readily
+be found of the manner in which personality eludes us, the moment we
+try to investigate its real nature.  There are few ideas which on
+first consideration appear so simple, and none which becomes more
+utterly incapable of limitation or definition as soon as it is
+examined closely.
+
+Finally, Mr. Darwin ("Plants and Animals under Domestication," vol.
+ii. p. 38, ed. 1875), writes -
+
+"Even with plants multiplied by bulbs, layers, &c., which may IN ONE
+SENSE be said to form part of the same individual," &c., &c.; and
+again, p. 58, "The same rule holds good with plants when propagated
+by bulbs, offsets, &c., which IN ONE SENSE still form parts of the
+same individual," &c.  In each of these passages it is plain that the
+difficulty of separating the personality of the offspring from that
+of the parent plant is present to his mind.  Yet, p. 351 of the same
+volume as above, he tells us that asexual generation "is effected in
+many ways--by the formation of buds of various kinds, and by
+fissiparous generation, that is, by spontaneous or artificial
+division."  The multiplication of plants by bulbs and layers clearly
+comes under this head, nor will any essential difference be felt
+between one kind of asexual generation and another; if, then, the
+offspring formed by bulbs and layers is in one sense part of the
+original plant, so also, it would appear, is all offspring developed
+by asexual generation in its manifold phrases.
+
+If we now turn to p. 357, we find the conclusion arrived at, as it
+would appear, on the most satisfactory evidence, that "sexual and
+asexual reproduction are not seen to differ essentially; and . . . .
+that asexual reproduction, the power of regrowth, and development are
+all parts of one and the same great law."  Does it not then follow,
+quite reasonably and necessarily, that all offspring, however
+generated, is IN ONE SENSE part of the individuality of its parent or
+parents.  The question, therefore, turns upon "in what sense" this
+may be said to be the case?  To which I would venture to reply, "In
+the same sense as the parent plant (which is but the representative
+of the outside matter which it has assimilated during growth, and of
+its own powers of development) is the same individual that it was
+when it was itself an offset, or a cow the same individual that it
+was when it was a calf--but no otherwise."
+
+Not much difficulty will be felt about supposing the offset of a
+plant, to be imbued with the memory of the past history of the plant
+of which it is an offset.  It is part of the plant itself; and will
+know whatever the plant knows.  Why, then, should there be more
+difficulty in supposing the offspring of the highest mammals, to
+remember in a profound but unselfconscious way, the anterior history
+of the creatures of which they too have been part and parcel?
+
+Personal identity, then, is much like species itself.  It is now,
+thanks to Mr. Darwin, generally held that species blend or have
+blended into one another; so that any possibility of arrangement and
+apparent subdivision into definite groups, is due to the suppression
+by death both of individuals and whole genera, which, had they been
+now existing, would have linked all living beings by a series of
+gradations so subtle that little classification could have been
+attempted.  How it is that the one great personality of life as a
+whole, should have split itself up into so many centres of thought
+and action, each one of which is wholly, or at any rate nearly,
+unconscious of its connection with the other members, instead of
+having grown up into a huge polyp, or as it were coral reef or
+compound animal over the whole world, which should be conscious but
+of its own one single existence; how it is that the daily waste of
+this creature should be carried on by the conscious death of its
+individual members, instead of by the unconscious waste of tissue
+which goes on in the bodies of each individual (if indeed the tissue
+which we waste daily in our own bodies is so unconscious of its birth
+and death as we suppose); how, again, that the daily repair of this
+huge creature life should have become decentralised, and be carried
+on by conscious reproduction on the part of its component items,
+instead of by the unconscious nutrition of the whole from a single
+centre, as the nutrition of our own bodies would appear (though
+perhaps falsely) to be carried on; these are matters upon which I
+dare not speculate here, but on which some reflections may follow in
+subsequent chapters.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII--OUR SUBORDINATE PERSONALITIES
+
+
+
+We have seen that we can apprehend neither the beginning nor the end
+of our personality, which comes up out of infinity as an island out
+of the sea, so gently, that none can say when it is first visible on
+our mental horizon, and fades away in the case of those who leave
+offspring, so imperceptibly that none can say when it is out of
+sight.  But, like the island, whether we can see it or no, it is
+always there.  Not only are we infinite as regards time, but we are
+so also as regards extension, being so linked on to the external
+world that we cannot say where we either begin or end.  If those who
+so frequently declare that man is a finite creature would point out
+his boundaries, it might lead to a better understanding.
+
+Nevertheless, we are in the habit of considering that our
+personality, or soul, no matter where it begins or ends, and no
+matter what it comprises, is nevertheless a single thing,
+uncompounded of other souls.  Yet there is nothing more certain than
+that this is not at all the case, but that every individual person is
+a compound creature, being made up of an infinite number of distinct
+centres of sensation and will, each one of which is personal, and has
+a soul and individual existence, a reproductive system, intelligence,
+and memory of its own, with probably its hopes and fears, its times
+of scarcity and repletion, and a strong conviction that it is itself
+the centre of the universe.
+
+True, no one is aware of more than one individuality in his own
+person at one time.  We are, indeed, often greatly influenced by
+other people, so much so, that we act on many occasions in accordance
+with their will rather than our own, making our actions answer to
+their sensations, and register the conclusions of their cerebral
+action and not our own; for the time being, we become so completely
+part of them, that we are ready to do things most distasteful and
+dangerous to us, if they think it for their advantage that we should
+do so.  Thus we sometimes see people become mere processes of their
+wives or nearest relations.  Yet there is a something which blinds
+us, so that we cannot see how completely we are possessed by the
+souls which influence us upon these occasions.  We still think we are
+ourselves, and ourselves only, and are as certain as we can be of any
+fact, that we are single sentient beings, uncompounded of other
+sentient beings, and that our action is determined by the sole
+operation of a single will.
+
+But in reality, over and above this possession of our souls by others
+of our own species, the will of the lower animals often enters into
+our bodies and possesses them, making us do as they will, and not as
+we will; as, for example, when people try to drive pigs, or are run
+away with by a restive horse, or are attacked by a savage animal
+which masters them.  It is absurd to say that a person is a single
+"ego" when he is in the clutches of a lion.  Even when we are alone,
+and uninfluenced by other people except in so far as we remember
+their wishes, we yet generally conform to the usages which the
+current feeling of our peers has taught us to respect; their will
+having so mastered our original nature, that, do what we may, we can
+never again separate ourselves and dwell in the isolation of our own
+single personality.  And even though we succeeded in this, and made a
+clean sweep of every mental influence which had ever been brought to
+bear upon us, and though at the same time we were alone in some
+desert where there was neither beast nor bird to attract our
+attention or in any way influence our action, yet we could not escape
+the parasites which abound within us; whose action, as every medical
+man well knows, is often such as to drive men to the commission of
+grave crimes, or to throw them into convulsions, make lunatics of
+them, kill them--when but for the existence and course of conduct
+pursued by these parasites they would have done no wrong to any man.
+
+These parasites--are they part of us or no?  Some are plainly not so
+in any strict sense of the word, yet their action may, in cases which
+it is unnecessary to detail, affect us so powerfully that we are
+irresistibly impelled to act in such or such a manner; and yet we are
+as wholly unconscious of any impulse outside of our own "ego" as
+though they were part of ourselves; others again are essential to our
+very existence, as the corpuscles of the blood, which the best
+authorities concur in supposing to be composed of an infinite number
+of living souls, on whose welfare the healthy condition of our blood,
+and hence of our whole bodies, depends.  We breathe that they may
+breathe, not that we may do so; we only care about oxygen in so far
+as the infinitely small beings which course up and down in our veins
+care about it:  the whole arrangement and mechanism of our lungs may
+be our doing, but is for their convenience, and they only serve us
+because it suits their purpose to do so, as long as we serve them.
+Who shall draw the line between the parasites which are part of us,
+and the parasites which are not part of us?  Or again, between the
+influence of those parasites which are within us, but are yet not US,
+and the external influence of other sentient beings and our fellow-
+men?  There is no line possible.  Everything melts away into
+everything else; there are no hard edges; it is only from a little
+distance that we see the effect as of individual features and
+existences.  When we go close up, there is nothing but a blur and
+confused mass of apparently meaningless touches, as in a picture by
+Turner.
+
+The following passage from Mr. Darwin's provisional theory of
+Pangenesis, will sufficiently show that the above is no strange and
+paradoxical view put forward wantonly, but that it follows as a
+matter of course from the conclusions arrived at by those who are
+acknowledged leaders in the scientific world.  Mr. Darwin writes
+thus:-
+
+"THE FUNCTIONAL INDEPENDENCE OF THE ELEMENTS OR UNITS OF THE BODY.--
+Physiologists agree that the whole organism consists of a multitude
+of elemental parts, which are to a great extent independent of one
+another.  Each organ, says Claude Bernard, has its proper life, its
+autonomy; it can develop and reproduce itself independently of the
+adjoining tissues.  A great German authority, Virchow, asserts still
+more emphatically that each system consists of 'an enormous mass of
+minute centres of action. . . .  Every element has its own special
+action, and even though it derive its stimulus to activity from other
+parts, yet alone effects the actual performance of duties. . . .
+Every single epithelial and muscular fibre-cell leads a sort of
+parasitical existence in relation to the rest of the body. . . .
+Every single bone corpuscle really possesses conditions of nutrition
+peculiar to itself.'  Each element, as Sir J. Paget remarks, lives
+its appointed time, and then dies, and is replaced after being cast
+off and absorbed.  I presume that no physiologist doubts that, for
+instance, each bone corpuscle of the finger differs from the
+corresponding corpuscle of the corresponding joint of the toe," &c.,
+&c.  ("Plants and Animals under Domestication," vol ii. pp. 364, 365,
+ed. 1875).
+
+In a work on heredity by M. Ribot, I find him saying, "Some recent
+authors attribute a memory" (and if so, surely every attribute of
+complete individuality) "to every organic element of the body;" among
+them Dr. Maudsley, who is quoted by M. Ribot, as saying, "The
+permanent effects of a particular virus, such as that of the variola,
+in the constitution, shows that the organic element remembers for the
+remainder of its life certain modifications it has received.  The
+manner in which a cicatrix in a child's finger grows with the growth
+of the body, proves, as has been shown by Paget, that the organic
+element of the part does not forget the impression it has received.
+What has been said about the different nervous centres of the body
+demonstrates the existence of a memory in the nerve cells diffused
+through the heart and intestines; in those of the spinal cord, in the
+cells of the motor ganglia, and in the cells of the cortical
+substance of the cerebal hemispheres."
+
+Now, if words have any meaning at all, it must follow from the
+passages quoted above, that each cell in the human body is a person
+with an intelligent soul, of a low class, perhaps, but still
+differing from our own more complex soul in degree, and not in kind;
+and, like ourselves, being born, living, and dying.  So that each
+single creature, whether man or beast, proves to be as a ray of white
+light, which, though single, is compounded of the red, blue, and
+yellow rays.  It would appear, then, as though "we," "our souls," or
+"selves," or "personalities," or by whatever name we may prefer to be
+called, are but the CONSENSUS and full flowing stream of countless
+sensations and impulses on the part of our tributary souls or
+"selves," who probably know no more that we exist, and that they
+exist as part of us, than a microscopic water-flea knows the results
+of spectrum analysis, or than an agricultural labourer knows the
+working of the British constitution:  and of whom we know no more,
+until some misconduct on our part, or some confusion of ideas on
+theirs, has driven them into insurrection, than we do of the habits
+and feelings of some class widely separated from our own.
+
+These component souls are of many and very different natures, living
+in territories which are to them vast continents, and rivers, and
+seas, but which are yet only the bodies of our other component souls;
+coral reefs and sponge-beds within us; the animal itself being a kind
+of mean proportional between its house and its soul, and none being
+able to say where house ends and animal begins, more than they can
+say where animal ends and soul begins.  For our bones within us are
+but inside walls and buttresses, that is to say, houses constructed
+of lime and stone, as it were, by coral insects; and our houses
+without us are but outside bones, a kind of exterior skeleton or
+shell, so that we perish of cold if permanently and suddenly deprived
+of the coverings which warm us and cherish us, as the wing of a hen
+cherishes her chickens.  If we consider the shells of many living
+creatures, we shall find it hard to say whether they are rather
+houses, or part of the animal itself, being, as they are, inseparable
+from the animal, without the destruction of its personality.
+
+Is it possible, then, to avoid imagining that if we have within us so
+many tributary souls, so utterly different from the soul which they
+unite to form, that they neither can perceive us, nor we them, though
+it is in us that they live and move and have their being, and though
+we are what we are, solely as the result of their co-operation--is it
+possible to avoid imagining that we may be ourselves atoms,
+undesignedly combining to form some vaster being, though we are
+utterly incapable of perceiving that any such being exists, or of
+realising the scheme or scope of our own combination?  And this, too,
+not a spiritual being, which, without matter, or what we think matter
+of some sort, is as complete nonsense to us as though men bade us
+love and lean upon an intelligent vacuum, but a being with what is
+virtually flesh and blood and bones; with organs, senses, dimensions,
+in some way analogous to our own, into some other part of which
+being, at the time of our great change we must infallibly re-enter,
+starting clean anew, with bygones bygones, and no more ache for ever
+from either age or antecedents.  Truly, sufficient for the life is
+the evil thereof.  Any speculations of ours concerning the nature of
+such a being, must be as futile and little valuable as those of a
+blood corpuscle might be expected to be concerning the nature of man;
+but if I were myself a blood corpuscle, I should be amused at making
+the discovery that I was not only enjoying life in my own sphere, but
+was bona fide part of an animal which would not die with myself, and
+in which I might thus think of myself as continuing to live to all
+eternity, or to what, as far as my power of thought would carry me,
+must seem practically eternal.  But, after all, the amusement would
+be of a rather dreary nature.
+
+On the other hand, if I were the being of whom such an introspective
+blood corpuscle was a component item, I should conceive he served me
+better by attending to my blood and making himself a successful
+corpuscle, than by speculating about my nature.  He would serve me
+best by serving himself best, without being over curious.  I should
+expect that my blood might suffer if his brain were to become too
+active.  If, therefore, I could discover the vein in which he was, I
+should let him out to begin life anew in some other and, qua me, more
+profitable capacity.
+
+With the units of our bodies it is as with the stars of heaven:
+there is neither speech nor language, but their voices are heard
+among them.  Our will is the fiat of their collective wisdom, as
+sanctioned in their parliament, the brain; it is they who make us do
+whatever we do--it is they who should be rewarded if they have done
+well, or hanged if they have committed murder.  When the balance of
+power is well preserved among them, when they respect each other's
+rights and work harmoniously together, then we thrive and are well;
+if we are ill, it is because they are quarrelling with themselves, or
+are gone on strike for this or that addition to their environment,
+and our doctor must pacify or chastise them as best he may.  They are
+we and we are they; and when we die it is but a redistribution of the
+balance of power among them or a change of dynasty, the result, it
+may be, of heroic struggle, with more epics and love romances than we
+could read from now to the Millennium, if they were so written down
+that we could comprehend them.
+
+It is plain, then, that the more we examine the question of
+personality the more it baffles us, the only safeguard against utter
+confusion and idleness of thought being to fall back upon the
+superficial and common sense view, and refuse to tolerate discussions
+which seem to hold out little prospect of commercial value, and which
+would compel us, if logically followed, to be at the inconvenience of
+altering our opinions upon matters which we have come to consider as
+settled.
+
+And we observe that this is what is practically done by some of our
+ablest philosophers, who seem unwilling, if one may say so without
+presumption, to accept the conclusions to which their own experiments
+and observations would seem to point.
+
+Dr. Carpenter, for example, quotes the well-known experiments upon
+headless frogs.  If we cut off a frog's head and pinch any part of
+its skin, the animal at once begins to move away with the same
+regularity as though the brain had not been removed.  Flourens took
+guinea-pigs, deprived them of the cerebral lobes, and then irritated
+their skin; the animals immediately walked, leaped, and trotted
+about, but when the irritation was discontinued they ceased to move.
+Headless birds, under excitation, can still perform with their wings
+the rhythmic movements of flying.  But here are some facts more
+curious still, and more difficult of explanation.  If we take a frog
+or a strong and healthy triton, and subject it to various
+experiments; if we touch, pinch, or burn it with acetic acid, and if
+then, after decapitating the animal, we subject it to the same
+experiments, it will be seen that the reactions are exactly the same;
+it will strive to be free of the pain, and to shake off the acetic
+acid that is burning it; it will bring its foot up to the part of its
+body that is irritated, and this movement of the member will follow
+the irritation wherever it may be produced.
+
+The above is mainly taken from M. Ribot's work on heredity rather
+than Dr. Carpenter's, because M. Ribot tells us that the head of the
+frog was actually cut off, a fact which does not appear so plainly in
+Dr. Carpenter's allusion to the same experiments.  But Dr. Carpenter
+tells us that AFTER THE BRAIN OF A FROG HAS BEEN REMOVED--which would
+seem to be much the same thing as though its head were cut off--"if
+acetic acid be applied over the upper and under part of the thigh,
+the foot of the same side will wipe it away; BUT IF THAT FOOT BE CUT
+OFF, AFTER SOME INEFFECTUAL EFFORTS AND A SHORT PERIOD OF INACTION,"
+during which it is hard not to surmise that the headless body is
+considering what it had better do under the circumstances, "THE SAME
+MOVEMENT WILL BE MADE BY THE FOOT OF THE OPPOSITE SIDE," which, to
+ordinary people, would convey the impression that the headless body
+was capable of feeling the impressions it had received, and of
+reasoning upon them by a psychological act; and this of course
+involves the possession of a soul of some sort.
+
+Here is a frog whose right thigh you burn with acetic acid.  Very
+naturally it tries to get at the place with its right foot to remove
+the acid.  You then cut off the frog's head, and put more acetic acid
+on the some place:  the headless frog, or rather the body of the late
+frog, does just what the frog did before its head was cut off--it
+tries to get at the place with its right foot.  You now cut off its
+right foot:  the headless body deliberates, and after a while tries
+to do with its left foot what it can no longer do with its right.
+Plain matter-of-fact people will draw their own inference.  They will
+not be seduced from the superficial view of the matter.  They will
+say that the headless body can still, to some extent, feel, think,
+and act, and if so, that it must have a living soul.
+
+Dr. Carpenter writes as follows:- "Now the performance of these, as
+well as of many other movements, that show a most remarkable
+adaptation to a purpose, might be supposed to indicate that
+sensations are called up by the IMPRESSIONS, and that the animal can
+not only FEEL, but can voluntarily direct its movements so as to get
+rid of the irritation which annoys it.  But such an inference would
+be inconsistent with other facts.  In the first place, the motions
+performed under such circumstances are never spontaneous, but are
+always excited by a stimulus of some kind."
+
+Here we pause to ask ourselves whether any action of any creature
+under any circumstances is ever excited without "stimulus of some
+kind," and unless we can answer this question in the affirmative, it
+is not easy to see how Dr. Carpenter's objection is valid.
+
+"Thus," he continues, "a decapitated frog" (here then we have it that
+the frog's head was actually cut off) "after the first violent
+convulsive moments occasioned by the operation have passed away,
+remains at rest until it is touched; and then the leg, or its whole
+body may be thrown into sudden action, which suddenly subsides
+again."  (How does this quiescence when it no longer feels anything
+show that the "leg or whole body" had not perceived something which
+made it feel when it was not quiescent?)--"Again we find that such
+movements may be performed not only when the brain has been removed,
+the spinal cord remaining entire, but also when the spinal cord has
+been itself cut across, so as to be divided into two or more
+portions, each of them completely isolated from each other, and from
+other parts of the nervous centres.  Thus, if the head of a frog be
+cut off, and its spinal cord be divided in the middle of the back, so
+that its fore legs remain connected with the upper part, and its hind
+legs with the lower, each pair of members may be excited to movements
+by stimulants applied to itself; but the two pairs will not exhibit
+any consentaneous motions, as they will do when the spinal cord is
+undivided."
+
+This may be put perhaps more plainly thus.  If you take a frog and
+cut it into three pieces--say, the head for one piece, the fore legs
+and shoulder for another, and the hind legs for a third--and then
+irritate any one of these pieces, you will find it move much as it
+would have moved under like irritation if the animal had remained
+undivided, but you will no longer find any concert between the
+movements of the three pieces; that is to say, if you irritate the
+head, the other two pieces will remain quiet, and if you irritate the
+hind legs, you will excite no action in the fore legs or head.
+
+Dr. Carpenter continues:  "Or if the spinal cord be cut across
+without the removal of the brain, the lower limbs may be EXCITED to
+movement by an appropriate stimulant, though the animal has clearly
+no power over them, whilst the upper part remains under its control
+as completely as before."
+
+Why are the head and shoulders "the animal" more than the hind legs
+under these circumstances?  Neither half can exist long without the
+other; the two parts, therefore, being equally important to each
+other, we have surely as good a right to claim the title of "the
+animal" for the hind legs, and to maintain that they have no power
+over the head and shoulders, as any one else has to claim the
+animalship for these last.  What we say is, that the animal has
+ceased to exist as a frog on being cut in half, and that the two
+halves are no longer, either of them, the frog, but are simply pieces
+of still living organism, each of which has a soul of its own, being
+capable of sensation, and of intelligent psychological action as the
+consequence of sensations, though the one part has probably a much
+higher and more intelligent soul than the other, and neither part has
+a soul for a moment comparable in power and durability to that of the
+original frog.
+
+"Now it is scarcely conceivable," continues Dr Carpenter, "that in
+this last case sensations should be felt and volition exercised
+through the instrumentality of that portion of the spinal cord which
+remains connected with the nerves of the posterior extremities, but
+which is cut off from the brain.  For if it were so, there must be
+two distinct centres of sensation and will in the same animal, the
+attributes of the brain not being affected; and by dividing the
+spinal cord into two or more segments we might thus create in the
+body of one animal two or more such independent centres in addition
+to that which holds its proper place in the head."
+
+In the face of the facts before us, it does not seen far-fetched to
+suppose that there ARE two, or indeed an infinite number of centres
+of sensation and will in an animal, the attributes of whose brain are
+not affected but that these centres, while the brain is intact,
+habitually act in connection with and in subordination to that
+central authority; as in the ordinary state of the fish trade, fish
+is caught, we will say, at Yarmouth, sent up to London, and then sent
+down to Yarmouth again to be eaten, instead of being eaten at
+Yarmouth when caught.  But from the phenomena exhibited by three
+pieces of an animal, it is impossible to argue that the causes of the
+phenomena were present in the quondam animal itself; the memory of an
+infinite series of generations having so habituated the local centres
+of sensation and will, to act in concert with the central government,
+that as long as they can get at that government, they are absolutely
+incapable of acting independently.  When thrown on their own
+resources, they are so demoralised by ages of dependence on the
+brain, that they die after a few efforts at self-assertion, from
+sheer unfamiliarity with the position, and inability to recognise
+themselves when disjointed rudely from their habitual associations.
+
+In conclusion, Dr. Carpenter says, "To say that two or more distinct
+centres of sensation and will are present in such a case, would
+really be the same as saying that we have the power of constituting
+two or more distinct egos in one body, WHICH IS MANIFESTLY ABSURD."
+One sees the absurdity of maintaining that we can make one frog into
+two frogs by cutting a frog into two pieces, but there is no
+absurdity in believing that the two pieces have minor centres of
+sensation and intelligence within themselves, which, when the animal
+is entire, act in much concert with the brain, and with each other,
+that it is not easy to detect their originally autonomous character,
+but which, when deprived of their power of acting in concert, are
+thrown back upon earlier habit, now too long forgotten to be capable
+of permanent resumption.
+
+Illustrations are apt to mislead, nevertheless they may perhaps be
+sometimes tolerated.  Suppose, for example, that London to the
+extent, say, of a circle with a six-mile radius from Charing Cross,
+were utterly annihilated in the space of five minutes during the
+Session of Parliament.  Suppose, also, that two entirely impassable
+barriers, say of five miles in width, half a mile high, and red hot,
+were thrown across England; one from Gloucester to Harwich, and
+another from Liverpool to Hull, and at the same time the sea were to
+become a mass of molten lava, so no water communication should be
+possible; the political, mercantile, social, and intellectual life of
+the country would be convulsed in a manner which it is hardly
+possible to realise.  Hundreds of thousands would die through the
+dislocation of existing arrangements.  Nevertheless, each of the
+three parts into which England was divided would show signs of
+provincial life for which it would find certain imperfect organisms
+ready to hand.  Bristol, Birmingham, Liverpool, and Manchester,
+accustomed though they are to act in subordination to London, would
+probably take up the reins of government in their several sections;
+they would make their town councils into local governments, appoint
+judges from the ablest of their magistrates, organise relief
+committees, and endeavour as well as they could to remove any acetic
+acid that might be now poured on Wiltshire, Warwickshire, or
+Northumberland, but no concert between the three divisions of the
+country would be any longer possible.  Should we be justified, under
+these circumstances, in calling any of the three parts of England,
+England?  Or, again, when we observed the provincial action to be as
+nearly like that of the original undivided nation as circumstances
+would allow, should we be justified in saying that the action, such
+as it was, was not political?  And, lastly, should we for a moment
+think that an admission that the provincial action was of a bona fide
+political character would involve the supposition that England,
+undivided, had more than one "ego" as England, no matter how many
+subordinate "egos" might go to the making of it, each one of which
+proved, on emergency, to be capable of a feeble autonomy?
+
+M. Ribot would seem to take a juster view of the phenomenon when he
+says (p. 222 of the English translation) -
+
+"We can hardly say that here the movements are co-ordinated like
+those of a machine; the acts of the animal are adapted to a special
+end; we find in them the characters of intelligence and will, a
+knowledge and choice of means, since they are as variable as the
+cause which provokes them.
+
+"If these, then, and similar acts, were such that both the
+impressions which produced them and the acts themselves were
+perceived by the animal, would they not be called psychological?  Is
+there not in them all that constitutes an intelligent act--adaptation
+of means to ends; not a general and vague adaptation, but a
+determinate adaptation to a determinate end?  In the reflex action we
+find all that constitutes in some sort the very groundwork of an
+intelligent act--that is to say, the same series of stages, in the
+same order, with the same relations between them.  We have thus, in
+the reflex act, all that constitutes the psychological act except
+consciousness.  The reflex act, which is physiological, differs in
+nothing from the psychological act, save only in this--that it is
+without consciousness."
+
+The only remark which suggests itself upon this, is that we have no
+right to say that the part of the animal which moves does not also
+perceive its own act of motion, as much as it has perceived the
+impression which has caused it to move.  It is plain "the animal"
+cannot do so, for the animal cannot be said to be any longer in
+existence.  Half a frog is not a frog; nevertheless, if the hind legs
+are capable, as M. Ribot appears to admit, of "perceiving the
+impression" which produces their action, and if in that action there
+is (and there would certainly appear to be so) "all that constitutes
+an intelligent act, . . . a determinate adaptation to a determinate
+end," one fails to see on what ground they should be supposed to be
+incapable of perceiving their own action, in which case the action of
+the hind legs becomes distinctly psychological.
+
+Secondly, M. Ribot appears to forget that it is the tendency of all
+psychological action to become unconscious on being frequently
+repeated, and that no line can be drawn between psychological acts
+and those reflex acts which he calls physiological.  All we can say
+is, that there are acts which we do without knowing that we do them;
+but the analogy of many habits which we have been able to watch in
+their passage from laborious consciousness to perfect
+unconsciousness, would suggest that all action is really
+psychological, only that the soul's action becomes invisible to
+ourselves after it has been repeated sufficiently often--that there
+is, in fact, a law as simple as in the case of optics or gravitation,
+whereby conscious perception of any action shall vary inversely as
+the square, say, of its being repeated.
+
+It is easy to understand the advantage to the individual of this
+power of doing things rightly without thinking about them; for were
+there no such power, the attention would be incapable of following
+the multitude of matters which would be continually arresting it;
+those animals which had developed a power of working automatically,
+and without a recurrence to first principles when they had once
+mastered any particular process, would, in the common course of
+events, stand a better chance of continuing their species, and thus
+of transmitting their new power to their descendants.
+
+M. Ribot declines to pursue the subject further, and has only
+cursorily alluded to it.  He writes, however, that, on the "obscure
+problem" of the difference between reflex and psychological actions,
+some say, "when there can be no consciousness, because the brain is
+wanting, there is, in spite of appearances, only mechanism," whilst
+others maintain, that "when there is selection, reflection, psychical
+action, there must also be consciousness in spite of appearances."  A
+little later (p. 223), he says, "It is quite possible that if a
+headless animal could live a sufficient length of time" (that is to
+say, if THE HIND LEGS OF AN ANIMAL could live a sufficient length of
+time without the brain), "there would be found in it" (THEM) "a
+consciousness like that of the lower species, which would consist
+merely in the faculty of apprehending the external world."  (Why
+merely?  It is more than apprehending the outside world to be able to
+try to do a thing with one's left foot, when one finds that one
+cannot do it with one's right.)  "It would not be correct to say that
+the amphioxus, the only one among fishes and vertebrata which has a
+spinal cord without a brain, has no consciousness because it has no
+brain; and if it be admitted that the little ganglia of the
+invertebrata can form a consciousness, the same may hold good for the
+spinal cord."
+
+We conclude, therefore, that it is within the common scope and
+meaning of the words "personal identity," not only that one creature
+can become many as the moth becomes manifold in her eggs, but that
+each individual may be manifold in the sense of being compounded of a
+vast number of subordinate individualities which have their separate
+lives within him, with their hopes, and fears, and intrigues, being
+born and dying within us, many generations, of them during our single
+lifetime.
+
+"An organic being," writes Mr. Darwin, "is a microcosm, a little
+universe, formed of a host of self-propagating organisms,
+inconceivably minute, and numerous as the stars in heaven."
+
+As these myriads of smaller organisms are parts and processes of us,
+so are we but parts and processes of life at large.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII--APPLICATION OF THE FOREGOING CHAPTERS--THE ASSIMILATION
+OF OUTSIDE MATTER
+
+
+
+Let us now return to the position which we left at the end of the
+fourth chapter.  We had then concluded that the self-development of
+each new life in succeeding generations--the various stages through
+which it passes (as it would appear, at first sight, without rhyme or
+reason)--the manner in which it prepares structures of the most
+surpassing intricacy and delicacy, for which it has no use at the
+time when it prepares them--and the many elaborate instincts which it
+exhibits immediately on, and indeed before, birth--all point in the
+direction of habit and memory, as the only causes which could produce
+them.
+
+Why should the embryo of any animal go through so many stages--
+embryological allusions to forefathers of a widely different type?
+And why, again, should the germs of the same kind of creature always
+go through the same stages?  If the germ of any animal now living is,
+in its simplest state, but part of the personal identity of one of
+the original germs of all life whatsoever, and hence, if any now
+living organism must be considered without quibble as being itself
+millions of years old, and as imbued with an intense though
+unconscious memory of all that it has done sufficiently often to have
+made a permanent impression; if this be so, we can answer the above
+questions perfectly well.  The creature goes through so many
+intermediate stages between its earliest state as life at all, and
+its latest development, for the simplest of all reasons, namely,
+because this is the road by which it has always hitherto travelled to
+its present differentiation; this is the road it knows, and into
+every turn and up or down of which, it has been guided by the force
+of circumstances and the balance of considerations.  These, acting in
+such a manner for such and such a time, caused it to travel in such
+and such fashion, which fashion having been once sufficiently
+established, becomes a matter of trick or routine to which the
+creature is still a slave, and in which it confirms itself by
+repetition in each succeeding generation.
+
+Thus I suppose, as almost every one else, so far as I can gather,
+supposes, that we are descended from ancestors of widely different
+characters to our own.  If we could see some of our forefathers a
+million years back, we should find them unlike anything we could call
+man; if we were to go back fifty million years, we should find them,
+it may be, fishes pure and simple, breathing through gills, and
+unable to exist for many minutes in air.
+
+It is admitted on all hands that there is more or less analogy
+between the embryological development of the individual, and the
+various phases or conditions of life through which his forefathers
+have passed.  I suppose, then, that the fish of fifty million years
+back and the man of to-day are one single living being, in the same
+sense, or very nearly so, as the octogenarian is one single living
+being with the infant from which he has grown; and that the fish has
+lived himself into manhood, not as we live out our little life,
+living, and living, and living till we die, but living by pulsations,
+so to speak; living so far, and after a certain time going into a new
+body, and throwing off the old; making his body much as we make
+anything that we want, and have often made already, that is to say,
+as nearly as may be in the same way as he made it last time; also
+that he is as unable as we ourselves are, to make what he wants
+without going through the usual processes with which he is familiar,
+even though there may be other better ways of doing the same thing,
+which might not be far to seek, if the creature thought them better,
+and had not got so accustomed to such and such a method, that he
+would only be baffled and put out by any attempt to teach him
+otherwise.
+
+And this oneness of personality between ourselves and our supposed
+fishlike ancestors of many millions of years ago, must hold also
+between each individual one of us and the single pair of fishes from
+which we are each (on the present momentary hypothesis) descended;
+and it must also hold between such pair of fishes and all their
+descendants besides man, it may be some of them birds, and others
+fishes; all these descendants, whether human or otherwise, being but
+the way in which the creature (which was a pair of fishes when we
+first took it in hand though it was a hundred thousand other things
+as well, and had been all manner of other things before any part of
+it became fishlike) continues to exist--its manner, in fact, of
+growing.  As the manner in which the human body grows is by the
+continued birth and death, in our single lifetime, of many
+generations of cells which we know nothing about, but say that we
+have had only one hand or foot all our lives, when we have really had
+many, one after another; so this huge compound creature, LIFE,
+probably thinks itself but one single animal whose component cells,
+as it may imagine, grow, and it may be waste and repair, but do not
+die.
+
+It may be that the cells of which we are built up, and which we have
+already seen must be considered as separate persons, each one of them
+with a life and memory of its own--it may be that these cells reckon
+time in a manner inconceivable by us, so that no word can convey any
+idea of it whatever.  What may to them appear a long and painful
+process may to us be so instantaneous as to escape us altogether, we
+wanting some microscope to show us the details of time.  If, in like
+manner, we were to allow our imagination to conceive the existence of
+a being as much in need of a microscope for our time and affairs as
+we for those of our own component cells, the years would be to such a
+being but as the winkings or the twinklings of an eye.  Would he
+think, then, that all the ants and flies of one wink were different
+from those of the next? or would he not rather believe that they were
+always the same flies, and, again, always the same men and women, if
+he could see them at all, and if the whole human race did not appear
+to him as a sort of spreading and lichen-like growth over the earth,
+not differentiated at all into individuals?  With the help of a
+microscope and the intelligent exercise of his reason, he would in
+time conceive the truth.  He would put Covent Garden Market on the
+field of his microscope, and would perhaps write a great deal of
+nonsense about the unerring "instinct" which taught each costermonger
+to recognise his own basket or his own donkey-cart; and this, mutatis
+mutandis, is what we are getting to do as regards our own bodies.
+What I wish is, to make the same sort of step in an upward direction
+which has already been taken in a downward one, and to show reason
+for thinking that we are only component atoms of a single compound
+creature, LIFE, which has probably a distinct conception of its own
+personality though none whatever of ours, more than we of our own
+units.  I wish also to show reason for thinking that this creature,
+LIFE, has only come to be what it is, by the same sort of process as
+that by which any human art or manufacture is developed, i.e.,
+through constantly doing the same thing over and over again,
+beginning from something which is barely recognisable as faith, or as
+the desire to know, or do, or live at all, and as to the origin of
+which we are in utter darkness,--and growing till it is first
+conscious of effort, then conscious of power, then powerful with but
+little consciousness, and finally, so powerful and so charged with
+memory as to be absolutely without all self-consciousness whatever,
+except as regards its latest phases in each of its many
+differentiations, or when placed in such new circumstances as compel
+it to choose between death and a reconsideration of its position.
+
+No conjecture can be hazarded as to how the smallest particle of
+matter became so imbued with faith that it must be considered as the
+beginning of LIFE, or as to what such faith is, except that it is the
+very essence of all things, and that it has no foundation.
+
+In this way, then, I conceive we can fairly transfer the experience
+of the race to the individual, without any other meaning to our words
+than what they would naturally suggest; that is to say, that there is
+in every impregnate ovum a bona fide memory, which carries it back
+not only to the time when it was last an impregnate ovum, but to that
+earlier date when it was the very beginning of life at all, which
+same creature it still is, whether as man or ovum, and hence imbued,
+so far as time and circumstance allow, with all its memories.  Surely
+this is no strained hypothesis; for the mere fact that the germ, from
+the earliest moment that we are able to detect it, appears to be so
+perfectly familiar with its business, acts with so little hesitation
+and so little introspection or reference to principles, this alone
+should incline us to suspect that it must be armed with that which,
+so far as we observe in daily life, can alone ensure such a result--
+to wit, long practice, and the memory of many similar performances.
+
+The difficulty is, that we are conscious of no such memory in our own
+persons, and beyond the one great proof of memory given by the actual
+repetition of the performance--and of some of the latest deviations
+from the ordinary performance (and this proof ought in itself, one
+would have thought, to outweigh any save the directest evidence to
+the contrary) we can detect no symptom of any such mental operation
+as recollection on the part of the embryo.  On the other hand, we
+have seen that we know most intensely those things that we are least
+conscious of knowing; we will most intensely what we are least
+conscious of willing; we feel continually without knowing that we
+feel, and our attention is hourly arrested without our attention
+being arrested by the arresting of our attention.  Memory is no less
+capable of unconscious exercise, and on becoming intense through
+frequent repetition, vanishes no less completely as a conscious
+action of the mind than knowledge and volition.  We must all be aware
+of instances in which it is plain we must have remembered, without
+being in the smallest degree conscious of remembering.  Is it then
+absurd to suppose that our past existences have been repeated on such
+a vast number of occasions that the germ, linked on to all preceding
+germs, and, by once having become part of their identity, imbued with
+all their memories, remembers too intensely to be conscious of
+remembering, and works on with the same kind of unconsciousness with
+which we play, or walk, or read, until something unfamiliar happens
+to us? and is it not singularly in accordance with this view that
+consciousness should begin with that part of the creature's
+performance with which it is least familiar, as having repeated it
+least often--that is to say, in our own case, with the commencement
+of our human life--at birth, or thereabouts?
+
+It is certainly noteworthy that the embryo is never at a loss, unless
+something happens to it which has not usually happened to its
+forefathers, and which in the nature of things it cannot remember.
+
+When events are happening to it which have ordinarily happened to its
+forefathers, and which it would therefore remember, if it was
+possessed of the kind of memory which we are here attributing to it,
+IT ACTS PRECISELY AS IT WOULD ACT IF IT WERE POSSESSED OF SUCH
+MEMORY.
+
+When, on the other hand, events are happening to it which, if it has
+the kind of memory we are attributing to it, would baffle that
+memory, or which have rarely or never been included in the category
+of its recollections, IT ACTS PRECISELY AS A CREATURE ACTS WHEN ITS
+RECOLLECTION IS DISTURBED, OR WHEN IT IS REQUIRED TO DO SOMETHING
+WHICH IT HAS NEVER DONE BEFORE.
+
+We cannot remember having been in the embryonic stage, but we do not
+on that account deny that we ever were in such a stage at all.  On a
+little reflection it will appear no more reasonable to maintain that,
+when we were in the embryonic stage, we did not remember our past
+existences, than to say that we never were embryos at all.  We cannot
+remember what we did or did not recollect in that state; we cannot
+now remember having grown the eyes which we undoubtedly did grow,
+much less can we remember whether or not we then remembered having
+grown them before; but it is probable that our memory was then, in
+respect of our previous existences as embryos, as much more intense
+than it is now in respect of our childhood, as our power of acquiring
+a new language was greater when we were one or two years old, than
+when we were twenty.  And why should this power of acquiring
+languages be greater at two years than at twenty, but that for many
+generations we have learnt to speak at about this age, and hence look
+to learn to do so again on reaching it, just as we looked to making
+eyes, when the time came at which we were accustomed to make them.
+
+If we once had the memory of having been infants (which we had from
+day to day during infancy), and have lost it, we may well have had
+other and more intense memories which we have lost no less
+completely.  Indeed, there is nothing more extraordinary in the
+supposition that the impregnate ovum has an intense sense of its
+continuity with, and therefore of its identity with, the two
+impregnate ova from which it has sprung, than in the fact that we
+have no sense of our continuity with ourselves as infants.  If then,
+there is no a priori objection to this view, and if the impregnate
+ovum acts in such a manner as to carry the strongest conviction that
+it must have already on many occasions done what it is doing now, and
+that it has a vivid though unconscious recollection of what all, and
+more especially its nearer, ancestral ova did under similar
+circumstances, there would seem to be little doubt what conclusion we
+ought to come to.
+
+A hen's egg, for example, as soon as the hen begins to sit, sets to
+work immediately to do as nearly as may be what the two eggs from
+which its father and mother were hatched did when hens began to sit
+upon them.  The inference would seem almost irresistible,--that the
+second egg remembers the course pursued by the eggs from which it has
+sprung, and of whose present identity it is unquestionably a part-
+phase; it also seems irresistibly forced upon us to believe that the
+intensity of this memory is the secret of its easy action.
+
+It has, I believe, been often remarked, that a hen is only an egg's
+way of making another egg.  Every creature must be allowed to "run"
+its own development in its own way; the egg's way may seem a very
+roundabout manner of doing things; but it IS its way, and it is one
+of which man, upon the whole, has no great reason to complain.  Why
+the fowl should be considered more alive than the egg, and why it
+should be said that the hen lays the egg, and not that the egg lays
+the hen, these are questions which lie beyond the power of
+philosophic explanation, but are perhaps most answerable by
+considering the conceit of man, and his habit, persisted in during
+many ages, of ignoring all that does not remind him of himself, or
+hurt him, or profit him; also by considering the use of language,
+which, if it is to serve at all, can only do so by ignoring a vast
+number of facts which gradually drop out of mind from being out of
+sight.  But, perhaps, after all, the real reason is, that the egg
+does not cackle when it has laid the hen, and that it works towards
+the hen with gradual and noiseless steps, which we can watch if we be
+so minded; whereas, we can less easily watch the steps which lead
+from the hen to the egg, but hear a noise, and see an egg where there
+was no egg.  Therefore, we say, the development of the fowl from the
+egg bears no sort of resemblance to that of the egg from the fowl,
+whereas, in truth, a hen, or any other living creature, is only the
+primordial cell's way of going back upon itself.
+
+But to return.  We see an egg, A, which evidently knows its own
+meaning perfectly well, and we know that a twelvemonth ago there were
+two other such eggs, B and C, which have now disappeared, but from
+which we know A to have been so continuously developed as to be part
+of the present form of their identity.  A's meaning is seen to be
+precisely the same as B and C's meaning; A's personal appearance is,
+to all intents and purposes, B and C's personal appearance; it would
+seem, then, unreasonable to deny that A is only B and C come back,
+with such modification as they may have incurred since their
+disappearance; and that, in spite of any such modification, they
+remember in A perfectly well what they did as B and C.
+
+We have considered the question of personal identity so as to see
+whether, without abuse of terms, we can claim it as existing between
+any two generations of living agents (and if between two, then
+between any number up to infinity), and we found that we were not
+only at liberty to claim this, but that we are compelled irresistibly
+to do so, unless, that is to say, we would think very differently
+concerning personal identity than we do at present.  We found it
+impossible to hold the ordinary common sense opinions concerning
+personal identity, without admitting that we are personally identical
+with all our forefathers, who have successfully assimilated outside
+matter to themselves, and by assimilation imbued it with all their
+own memories; we being nothing else than this outside matter so
+assimilated and imbued with such memories.  This, at least, will, I
+believe, balance the account correctly.
+
+A few remarks upon the assimilation of outside matter by living
+organisms may perhaps be hazarded here.
+
+As long as any living organism can maintain itself in a position to
+which it has been accustomed, more or less nearly, both in its own
+life and in those of its forefathers, nothing can harm it.  As long
+as the organism is familiar with the position, and remembers its
+antecedents, nothing can assimilate it.  It must be first dislodged
+from the position with which it is familiar, as being able to
+remember it, before mischief can happen to it.  Nothing can
+assimilate living organism.
+
+On the other hand, the moment living organism loses sight of its own
+position and antecedents, it is liable to immediate assimilation, and
+to be thus familiarised with the position and antecedents of some
+other creature.  If any living organism be kept for but a very short
+time in a position wholly different from what it has been accustomed
+to in its own life, and in the lives of its forefathers, it commonly
+loses its memories completely, once and for ever; but it must
+immediately acquire new ones, for nothing can know nothing;
+everything must remember either its own antecedents, or some one
+else's.  And as nothing can know nothing, so nothing can believe in
+nothing.
+
+A grain of corn, for example, has never been accustomed to find
+itself in a hen's stomach--neither it nor its forefathers.  For a
+grain so placed leaves no offspring, and hence cannot transmit its
+experience.  The first minute or so after being eaten, it may think
+it has just been sown, and begin to prepare for sprouting, but in a
+few seconds, it discovers the environment to be unfamiliar; it
+therefore gets frightened, loses its head, is carried into the
+gizzard, and comminuted among the gizzard stones.  The hen succeeded
+in putting it into a position with which it was unfamiliar; from this
+it was an easy stage to assimilating it entirely.  Once assimilated,
+the grain ceases to remember any more as a grain, but becomes
+initiated into all that happens to, and has happened to, fowls for
+countless ages.  Then it will attack all other grains whenever it
+sees them; there is no such persecutor of grain, as another grain
+when it has once fairly identified itself with a hen.
+
+We may remark in passing, that if anything be once familiarised with
+anything, it is content.  The only things we really care for in life
+are familiar things; let us have the means of doing what we have been
+accustomed to do, of dressing as we have been accustomed to dress, of
+eating as we have been accustomed to eat, and let us have no less
+liberty than we are accustomed to have, and last, but not least, let
+us not be disturbed in thinking as we have been accustomed to think,
+and the vast majority of mankind will be very fairly contented--all
+plants and animals will certainly be so.  This would seem to suggest
+a possible doctrine of a future state; concerning which we may
+reflect that though, after we die, we cease to be familiar with
+ourselves, we shall nevertheless become immediately familiar with
+many other histories compared with which our present life must then
+seem intolerably uninteresting.
+
+This is the reason why a very heavy and sudden shock to the nervous
+system does not pain, but kills outright at once; while one with
+which the system can, at any rate, try to familiarise itself is
+exceedingly painful.  We cannot bear unfamiliarity.  The part that is
+treated in a manner with which it is not familiar cries immediately
+to the brain--its central government--for help, and makes itself
+generally as troublesome as it can, till it is in some way comforted.
+Indeed, the law against cruelty to animals is but an example of the
+hatred we feel on seeing even dumb creatures put into positions with
+which they are not familiar.  We hate this so much for ourselves,
+that we will not tolerate it for other creatures if we can possibly
+avoid it.  So again, it is said, that when Andromeda and Perseus had
+travelled but a little way from the rock where Andromeda had so long
+been chained, she began upbraiding him with the loss of her dragon,
+who, on the whole, she said, had been very good to her.  The only
+things we really hate are unfamiliar things, and though nature would
+not be nature if she did not cross our love of the familiar with a
+love also of the unfamiliar, yet there can be no doubt which of the
+two principles is master.
+
+Let us return, however, to the grain of corn.  If the grain had had
+presence of mind to avoid being carried into the gizzard stones, as
+many seeds do which are carried for hundreds of miles in birds'
+stomachs, and if it had persuaded itself that the novelty of the
+position was not greater than it could very well manage to put up
+with--if, in fact, it had not known when it was beaten--it might have
+stuck in the hen's stomach and begun to grow; in this case it would
+have assimilated a good part of the hen before many days were over;
+for hens are not familiar with grains that grow in their stomachs,
+and unless the one in question was as strongminded for a hen, as the
+grain that could avoid being assimilated would be for a grain, the
+hen would soon cease to take an interest in her antecedents.  It is
+to be doubted, however, whether a grain has ever been grown which has
+had strength of mind enough to avoid being set off its balance on
+finding itself inside a hen's gizzard.  For living organism is the
+creature of habit and routine, and the inside of a gizzard is not in
+the grain's programme.
+
+Suppose, then, that the grain, instead of being carried into the
+gizzard, had stuck in the hen's throat and choked her.  It would now
+find itself in a position very like what it had often been in before.
+That is to say, it would be in a damp, dark, quiet place, not too far
+from light, and with decaying matter around it.  It would therefore
+know perfectly well what to do, and would begin to grow until
+disturbed, and again put into a position with which it might, very
+possibly, be unfamiliar.
+
+The great question between vast masses of living organism is simply
+this:  "Am I to put you into a position with which your forefathers
+have been unfamiliar, or are you to put me into one about which my
+own have been in like manner ignorant?"  Man is only the dominant
+animal on the earth, because he can, as a general rule, settle this
+question in his own favour.
+
+The only manner in which an organism, which has once forgotten its
+antecedents, can ever recover its memory, is by being assimilated by
+a creature of its own kind; one, moreover, which knows its business,
+or is not in such a false position as to be compelled to be aware of
+being so.  It was, doubtless, owing to the recognition of this fact,
+that some Eastern nations, as we are told by Herodotus, were in the
+habit of eating their deceased parents--for matter which has once
+been assimilated by any identity or personality, becomes for all
+practical purposes part of the assimilating personality.
+
+The bearing of the above will become obvious when we return, as we
+will now do, to the question of personal identity.  The only
+difficulty would seem to lie in our unfamiliarity with the real
+meanings which we attach to words in daily use.  Hence, while
+recognising continuity without sudden break as the underlying
+principle of identity, we forget that this involves personal identity
+between all the beings who are in one chain of descent, the numbers
+of such beings, whether in succession, or contemporaneous, going for
+nothing at all.  Thus we take two eggs, one male and one female, and
+hatch them; after some months the pair of fowls so hatched, having
+succeeded in putting a vast quantity of grain and worms into false
+positions, become full-grown, breed, and produce a dozen new eggs.
+
+Two live fowls and a dozen eggs are the present phase of the
+personality of the two original eggs.  They are also part of the
+present phase of the personality of all the worms and grain which the
+fowls have assimilated from their leaving the eggshell; but the
+personalities of these last do not count; they have lost their grain
+and worm memories, and are instinct with the memorises of the whole
+ancestry of the creature which has assimilated them.
+
+We cannot, perhaps, strictly say that the two fowls and the dozen new
+eggs actually ARE the two original eggs; these two eggs are no longer
+in existence, and we see the two birds themselves which were hatched
+from them.  A bird cannot be called an egg without an abuse of terms.
+Nevertheless, it is doubtful how far we should not say this, for it
+is only with a mental reserve--and with no greater mental reserve--
+that we predicate absolute identity concerning any living being for
+two consecutive moments; and it is certainly as free from quibble to
+say to two fowls and a dozen eggs, "you are the two eggs I had on my
+kitchen shelf twelve months ago," as to say to a man, "you are the
+child whom I remember thirty years ago in your mother's arms."  In
+either case we mean, "you have been continually putting other
+organisms into a false position, and then assimilating them, ever
+since I last saw you, while nothing has yet occurred to put YOU into
+such a false position as to have made you lose the memory of your
+antecedents."
+
+It would seem perfectly fair, therefore, to say to any egg of the
+twelve, or to the two fowls and the whole twelve eggs together, "you
+were a couple of eggs twelve months ago; twelve months before that
+you were four eggs;" and so on, ad infinitum, the number neither of
+the ancestors nor of the descendants counting for anything, and
+continuity being the sole thing looked to.  From daily observation we
+are familiar with the fact that identity does both unite with other
+identities, so that a single new identity is the result, and does
+also split itself up into several identities, so that the one becomes
+many.  This is plain from the manner in which the male and female
+sexual elements unite to form a single ovum, which we observe to be
+instinct with the memories of both the individuals from which it has
+been derived; and there is the additional consideration, that each of
+the elements whose fusion goes to make up the impregnate ovum, is
+held by some to be itself composed of a fused mass of germs, which
+stand very much in the same relation to the spermatozoon and ovum, as
+the living cellular units of which we are composed do to ourselves--
+that is to say, are living independent organisms, which probably have
+no conception of the existence of the spermatozoon nor of the ovum,
+more than the spermatozoon or ovum have of theirs.
+
+This, at least, is what I gather from Mr. Darwin's provisional theory
+of Pangenesis; and, again, from one of the concluding sentences in
+his "Effects of Cross and Self Fertilisation," where, asking the
+question why two sexes have been developed, he replies that the
+answer seems to lie "in the great good which is derived from the
+fusion of two somewhat differentiated individuals.  With the
+exception," he continues, "or the lowest organisms this is possible
+only by means of the sexual elements--THESE CONSISTING OF CELLS
+SEPARATED FROM THE BODY" (i.e., separated from the bodies of each
+parent) "CONTAINING THE GERMS OF EVERY PART" (i.e., consisting of the
+seeds or germs from which each individual cell of the coming organism
+will be developed--these seeds or germs having been shed by each
+individual cell of the parent forms), "AND CAPABLE OF BEING FUSED
+COMPLETELY TOGETHER" (i.e., so at least I gather, capable of being
+fused completely, in the same way as the cells of our own bodies are
+fused, and thus, of forming a single living personality in the case
+of both the male and female element; which elements are themselves
+capable of a second fusion so as to form the impregnate ovum).  This
+single impregnate ovum, then, is a single identity that has taken the
+place of and come up in the room of two distinct personalities, each
+of whose characteristics it, to a certain extent, partakes, and which
+consist, each one of them, of the fused germs of a vast mass of other
+personalities.
+
+As regards the dispersion of one identity into many, this also is a
+matter of daily observation in the case of all female creatures that
+are with egg or young; the identity of the young with the female
+parent is in many respects so complete, as to need no enforcing, in
+spite of the entrance into the offspring of all the elements derived
+from the male parent, and of the gradual separation of the two
+identities, which becomes more and more complete, till in time it is
+hard to conceive that they can ever have been united.
+
+Numbers, therefore, go for nothing; and, as far as identity or
+continued personality goes, it is as fair to say to the two fowls,
+above referred to, "you were four fowls twelve months ago," as it is
+to say to a dozen eggs, "you were two eggs twelve months ago."  But
+here a difficulty meets us; for if we say, "you were two eggs twelve
+months ago," it follows that we mean, "you are now those two eggs;"
+just as when we say to a person, "you were such and such a boy twenty
+years ago," we mean, "you are now that boy, or all that represents
+him;" it would seem, then, that in like manner we should say to the
+two fowls, "you ARE the four fowls who between them laid the two eggs
+from which you sprung."  But it may be that all these four fowls are
+still to be seen running about; we should be therefore saying, "you
+two fowls are really not yourselves only, but you are also the other
+four fowls into the bargain;" and this might be philosophically true,
+and might, perhaps, be considered so, but for the convenience of the
+law courts.
+
+The difficulty would seem to arise from the fact that the eggs must
+disappear before fowls can be hatched from them, whereas, the hens so
+hatched may outlive the development of other hens, from the eggs
+which they in due course have laid.  The original eggs being out of
+sight are out of mind, and it is without an effort that we acquiesce
+in the assertion,--that the dozen new eggs actually are the two
+original ones.  But the original four fowls being still in sight,
+cannot be ignored, we only, therefore, see the new ones as growths
+from the original ones.
+
+The strict rendering of the facts should be, "you are part of the
+present phase of the identity of such and such a past identity,"
+i.e., either of the two eggs or the four fowls, as the case may be;
+this will put the eggs and the fowls, as it were, into the same box,
+and will meet both the philosophical and legal requirement of the
+case, only it is a little long.
+
+So far then, as regards actual identity of personality; which, we
+find, will allow us to say, that eggs are part of the present phase
+of a certain past identity, whether of other eggs, or of fowls, or
+chickens, and in like, manner that chickens are part of the present
+phase of certain other chickens, or eggs, or fowls; in fact, that
+anything is part of the present phase of any past identity in the
+line of its ancestry.  But as regards the actual memory of such
+identity (unconscious memory, but still clearly memory), we observe
+that the egg, as long as it is an egg, appears to have a very
+distinct recollection of having been an egg before, and the fowl of
+having been a fowl before, but that neither egg nor fowl appear to
+have any recollection of any other stage of their past existences,
+than the one corresponding to that in which they are themselves at
+the moment existing.
+
+So we, at six or seven years old, have no recollection of ever having
+been infants, much less of having been embryos; but the manner in
+which we shed our teeth and make new ones, and the way in which we
+grow generally, making ourselves for the most part exceedingly like
+what we made ourselves, in the person of some one of our nearer
+ancestors, and not unfrequently repeating the very blunders which we
+made upon that occasion when we come to a corresponding age, proves
+most incontestably that we remember our past existences, though too
+utterly to be capable of introspection in the matter.  So, when we
+grow wisdom teeth, at the age it may be of one or two and twenty, it
+is plain we remember our past existences at that age, however
+completely we may have forgotten the earlier stages of our present
+existence.  It may be said that it is the jaw which remembers, and
+not we, but it seems hard to deny the jaw a right of citizenship in
+our personality; and in the case of a growing boy, every part of him
+seems to remember equally well, and if every part of him combined
+does not make HIM, there would seem but little use in continuing the
+argument further.
+
+In like manner, a caterpillar appears not to remember having been an
+egg, either in its present or any past existence.  It has no concern
+with eggs as soon as it is hatched, but it clearly remembers not only
+having been a caterpillar before, but also having turned itself into
+a chrysalis before; for when the time comes for it to do this, it is
+at no loss, as it would certainly be if the position was unfamiliar,
+but it immediately begins doing what it did when last it was in a
+like case, repeating the process as nearly as the environment will
+allow, taking every step in the same order as last time, and doing
+its work with that ease and perfection which we observe to belong to
+the force of habit, and to be utterly incompatible with any other
+supposition than that of long long practice.
+
+Once having become a chrysalis, its memory of its caterpillarhood
+appears to leave it for good and all, not to return until it again
+assumes the shape of a caterpillar by process of descent.  Its memory
+now overleaps all past modifications, and reverts to the time when it
+was last what it is now, and though it is probable that both
+caterpillar and chrysalis, on any given day of their existence in
+either of these forms, have some sort of dim power of recollecting
+what happened to them yesterday, or the day before; yet it is plain
+their main memory goes back to the corresponding day of their last
+existence in their present form, the chrysalis remembering what
+happened to it on such a day far more practically, though less
+consciously, than what happened to it yesterday; and naturally, for
+yesterday is but once, and its past existences have been legion.
+Hence, it prepares its wings in due time, doing each day what it did
+on the corresponding day of its last chrysalishood and at length
+becoming a moth; whereon its circumstances are so changed that it
+loses all sense of its identity as a chrysalis (as completely as we,
+for precisely the same reason, lose all sense of our identity with
+ourselves as infants), and remembers nothing but its past existences
+as a moth.
+
+We observe this to hold throughout the animal and vegetable kingdoms.
+In any one phase of the existence of the lower animals, we observe
+that they remember the corresponding stage, and a little on either
+side of it, of all their past existences for a very great length of
+time.  In their present existence they remember a little behind the
+present moment (remembering more and more the higher they advance in
+the scale of life), and being able to foresee about as much as they
+could foresee in their past existences, sometimes more and sometimes
+less.  As with memory, so with prescience.  The higher they advance
+in the scale of life the more prescient they are.  It must, of
+course, be remembered, and will later on be more fully dwelt upon,
+that no offspring can remember anything which happens to its parents
+after it and its parents have parted company; and this is why there
+is, perhaps, more irregularity as regards our wisdom-teeth than about
+anything else that we grow; inasmuch as it must not uncommonly have
+happened in a long series of generations, that the offspring has been
+born before the parents have grown their wisdom-teeth, and thus there
+will be faults in the memory.
+
+Is there, then, anything in memory, as we observe it in ourselves and
+others, under circumstances in which we shall agree in calling it
+memory pure and simple without ambiguity of terms--is there anything
+in memory which bars us from supposing it capable of overleaping a
+long time of abeyance, and thus of enabling each impregnate ovum, or
+each grain, to remember what it did when last in a like condition,
+and to go on remembering the corresponding period of its prior
+developments throughout the whole period of its present growth,
+though such memory has entirely failed as regards the interim between
+any two corresponding periods, and is not consciously recognised by
+the individual as being exercised at all?
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX--ON THE ABEYANCE OF MEMORY
+
+
+
+Let us assume, for the moment, that the action of each impregnate
+germ is due to memory, which, as it were, pulsates anew in each
+succeeding generation, so that immediately on impregnation, the
+germ's memory reverts to the last occasion on which it was in a like
+condition, and recognising the position, is at no loss what to do.
+It is plain that in all cases where there are two parents, that is to
+say, in the greater number of cases, whether in the vegetable or
+animal kingdoms, there must be two such last occasions, each of which
+will have an equal claim upon the attention of the new germ.  Its
+memory would therefore revert to both, and though it would probably
+adhere more closely to the course which it took either as its father
+or its mother, and thus come out eventually male or female, yet it
+would be not a little influenced by the less potent memory.
+
+And not only this, but each of the germs to which the memory of the
+new germ reverts, is itself imbued with the memories of its own
+parent germs, and these again with the memories of preceding
+generations, and so on ad infinitum; so that, ex hypothesi, the germ
+must become instinct with all these memories, epitomised as after
+long time, and unperceived though they may well be, not to say
+obliterated in part or entirely so far as many features are
+concerned, by more recent impressions.  In this case, we must
+conceive of the impregnate germ as of a creature which has to repeat
+a performance already repeated before on countless different
+occasions, but with no more variation on the more recent ones than is
+inevitable in the repetition of any performance by an intelligent
+being.
+
+Now if we take the most parallel case to this which we can find, and
+consider what we should ourselves do under such circumstances, that
+is to say, if we consider what course is actually taken by beings who
+are influenced by what we all call memory, when they repeat an
+already often-repeated performance, and if we find a very strong
+analogy between the course so taken by ourselves, and that which from
+whatever cause we observe to be taken by a living germ, we shall
+surely be much inclined to think that there must be a similarity in
+the causes of action in each case; and hence, to conclude, that the
+action of the germ is due to memory.
+
+It will, therefore, be necessary to consider the general tendency of
+our minds in regard to impressions made upon us, and the memory of
+such impressions.
+
+Deep impressions upon the memory are made in two ways, differing
+rather in degree than kind, but with two somewhat widely different
+results.  They are made:-
+
+I.  By unfamiliar objects, or combinations, which come at
+comparatively long intervals, and produce their effect, as it were,
+by one hard blow.  The effect of these will vary with the
+unfamiliarity of the impressions themselves, and the manner in which
+they seem likely to lead to a further development of the unfamiliar,
+i.e., with the question, whether they seem likely to compel us to
+change our habits, either for better or worse.
+
+Thus, if an object or incident be very unfamiliar, as, we will say, a
+whale or an iceberg to one travelling to America for the first time,
+it will make a deep impression, though but little affecting our
+interests; but if we struck against the iceberg and were shipwrecked,
+or nearly so, it would produce a much deeper impression, we should
+think much more about icebergs, and remember much more about them,
+than if we had merely seen one.  So, also, if we were able to catch
+the whale and sell its oil, we should have a deep impression made
+upon us.  In either case we see that the amount of unfamiliarity,
+either present or prospective, is the main determinant of the depth
+of the impression.
+
+As with consciousness and volition, so with sudden unfamiliarity.  It
+impresses us more and more deeply the more unfamiliar it is, until it
+reaches such a point of impressiveness as to make no further
+impression at all; on which we then and there die.  For death only
+kills through unfamiliarity--that is to say, because the new
+position, whatever it is, is so wide a cross as compared with the old
+one, that we cannot fuse the two so as to understand the combination;
+hence we lose all recognition of, and faith in, ourselves and our
+surroundings.
+
+But however much we imagine we remember concerning the details of any
+remarkable impression which has been made us by a single blow, we do
+not remember as much or nearly as much as we think we do.  The
+subordinate details soon drop out of mind.  Those who think they
+remember even such a momentous matter as the battle of Waterloo
+recall now probably but half-a-dozen episodes, a gleam here, and a
+gleam there, so that what they call remembering the battle of
+Waterloo, is, in fact, little more than a kind of dreaming--so soon
+vanishes the memory of any unrepeated occurrence.
+
+As for smaller impressions, there is very little of what happens to
+us in each week that will be in our memories a week hence; a man of
+eighty remembers few of the unrepeated incidents of his life beyond
+those of the last fortnight, a little here, and a little there,
+forming a matter of perhaps six weeks or two months in all, if
+everything that he can call to mind were acted over again with no
+greater fulness than he can remember it.  As for incidents that have
+been often repeated, his mind strikes a balance of its past
+reminiscences, remembering the two or three last performances, and a
+general method of procedure, but nothing more.
+
+If, then, the recollection of all that is not very novel, or very
+often repeated, so soon fades from our own minds, during what we
+consider as our single lifetime, what wonder that the details of our
+daily experience should find no place in that brief epitome of them
+which is all we can give in so small a volume as offspring?
+
+If we cannot ourselves remember the hundred-thousandth part of what
+happened to us during our own childhood, how can we expect our
+offspring to remember more than what, through frequent repetition,
+they can now remember as a residuum, or general impression.  On the
+other hand, whatever we remember in consequence of but a single
+impression, we remember consciously.  We can at will recall details,
+and are perfectly well aware, when we do so, that we are
+recollecting.  A man who has never seen death looks for the first
+time upon the dead face of some near relative or friend.  He gazes
+for a few short minutes, but the impression thus made does not soon
+pass out of his mind.  He remembers the room, the hour of the day or
+night, and if by day, what sort of a day.  He remembers in what part
+of the room, and how disposed the body of the deceased was lying.
+Twenty years afterwards he can, at will, recall all these matters to
+his mind, and picture to himself the scene as he originally witnessed
+it.
+
+The reason is plain; the impression was very unfamiliar, and affected
+the beholder, both as regards the loss of one who was dear to him,
+and as reminding him with more than common force that he will one day
+die himself.  Moreover the impression was a simple one, not involving
+much subordinate detail; we have in this case, therefore, an example
+of the most lasting kind of impression that can be made by a single
+unrepeated event.  But if we examine ourselves closely, we shall find
+that after a lapse of years we do not remember as much as we think we
+do, even in such a case as this; and that beyond the incidents above
+mentioned, and the expression upon the face of the dead person, we
+remember little of what we can so consciously and vividly recall.
+
+II.  Deep impressions are also made by the repetition, more or less
+often, of a feeble impression which, if unrepeated, would have soon
+passed out of our minds.  We observe, therefore, that we remember
+best what we have done least often--any unfamiliar deviation, that is
+to say, from our ordinary method of procedure--and what we have done
+most often, with which, therefore, we are most familiar; our memory
+being mainly affected by the force of novelty and the force of
+routine--the most unfamiliar, and the most familiar, incidents or
+objects.
+
+But we remember impressions which have been made upon us by force of
+routine, in a very different way to that in which we remember a
+single deep impression.  As regards this second class, which
+comprises far the most numerous and important of the impressions with
+which our memory is stored, it is often only by the fact of our
+performance itself that we are able to recognise or show to others
+that we remember at all.  We often do not remember how, or when, or
+where we acquired our knowledge.  All we remember is, that we did
+learn, and that at one time and another we have done this or that
+very often.
+
+As regards this second class of impressions we may observe:-
+
+1.  That as a general rule we remember only the individual features
+of the last few repetitions of the act--if, indeed, we remember this
+much.  The influence of preceding ones is to be found only in the
+general average of the procedure, which is modified by them, but
+unconsciously to ourselves.  Take, for example, some celebrated
+singer, or pianoforte player, who has sung the same air, or performed
+the same sonata several hundreds or, it may be, thousands of times:
+of the details of individual performances, he can probably call to
+mind none but those of the last few days, yet there can be no
+question that his present performance is affected by, and modified
+by, all his previous ones; the care he has bestowed on these being
+the secret of his present proficiency.
+
+In each performance (the performer being supposed in the same state
+of mental and bodily health), the tendency will be to repeat the
+immediately preceding performances more nearly than remoter ones.  It
+is the common tendency of living beings to go on doing what they have
+been doing most recently.  The last habit is the strongest.  Hence,
+if he took great pains last time, he will play better now, and will
+take a like degree of pains, and play better still next time, and so
+go on improving while life and vigour last.  If, on the other hand,
+he took less pains last time, he will play worse now, and be inclined
+to take little pains next time, and so gradually deteriorate.  This,
+at least, is the common everyday experience of mankind.
+
+So with painters, actors, and professional men of every description;
+after a little while the memory of many past performances strikes a
+sort of fused balance in the mind, which results in a general method
+of procedure with but little conscious memory of even the latest
+performances, and with none whatever of by far the greater number of
+the remoter ones.
+
+Still, it is noteworthy, that the memory of some even of these will
+occasionally assert itself, so far as we can see, arbitrarily, the
+reason why this or that occasion should still haunt us, when others
+like them are forgotten, depending on some cause too subtle for our
+powers of observation.
+
+Even with such a simple matter as our daily dressing and undressing,
+we may remember some few details of our yesterday's toilet, but we
+retain nothing but a general and fused recollection of the many
+thousand earlier occasions on which we have dressed, or gone to bed.
+Men invariably put the same leg first into their trousers--this is
+the survival of memory in a residuum; but they cannot, till they
+actually put on a pair of trousers, remember which leg they DO put in
+first; this is the rapid fading away of any small individual
+impression.
+
+The seasons may serve as another illustration; we have a general
+recollection of the kind of weather which is seasonable for any month
+in a year; what flowers are due about what time, and whether the
+spring is on the whole backward or early; but we cannot remember the
+weather on any particular day a year ago, unless some unusual
+incident has impressed it upon our memory.  We can remember, as a
+general rule, what kind of season it was, upon the whole, a year ago,
+or perhaps, even two years; but more than this, we rarely remember,
+except in such cases as the winter of 1854-1855, or the summer of
+1868; the rest is all merged.
+
+We observe, then, that as regards small and often repeated
+impressions, our tendency is to remember best, and in most detail,
+what we have been doing most recently, and what in general has
+occurred most recently, but that the earlier impressions though
+forgotten individually, are nevertheless, not wholly lost.
+
+2.  When we have done anything very often, and have got into the
+habit of doing it, we generally take the various steps in the same
+order; in many cases this seems to be a sine qua non for our
+repetition of the action at all.  Thus, there is probably no living
+man who could repeat the words of "God save the Queen" backwards,
+without much hesitation and many mistakes; so the musician and the
+singer must perform their pieces in the order of the notes as
+written, or at any rate as they ordinarily perform them; they cannot
+transpose bars or read them backwards, without being put out, nor
+would the audience recognise the impressions they have been
+accustomed to, unless these impressions are made in the accustomed
+order.
+
+3.  If, when we have once got well into the habit of doing anything
+in a certain way, some one shows us some other way of doing it, or
+some way which would in part modify our procedure, or if in our
+endeavours to improve, we have hit upon some new idea which seems
+likely to help us, and thus we vary our course, on the next occasion
+we remember this idea by reason of its novelty, but if we try to
+repeat it, we often find the residuum of our old memories pulling us
+so strongly into our old groove, that we have the greatest difficulty
+in repeating our performance in the new manner; there is a clashing
+of memories, a conflict, which if the idea is very new, and involves,
+so to speak, too sudden a cross--too wide a departure from our
+ordinary course--will sometimes render the performance monstrous, or
+baffle us altogether, the new memory failing to fuse harmoniously
+with the old.  If the idea is not too widely different from our older
+ones, we can cross them with it, but with more or less difficulty, as
+a general rule in proportion to the amount of variation.  The whole
+process of understanding a thing consists in this, and, so far as I
+can see at present, in this only.
+
+Sometimes we repeat the new performance for a few times, in a way
+which shows that the fusion of memories is still in force; and then
+insensibly revert to the old, in which case the memory of the new
+soon fades away, leaving a residuum too feeble to contend against
+that of our many earlier memories of the same kind.  If, however, the
+new way is obviously to our advantage, we make an effort to retain
+it, and gradually getting into the habit of using it, come to
+remember it by force of routine, as we originally remembered it by
+force of novelty.  Even as regards our own discoveries, we do not
+always succeed in remembering our most improved and most striking
+performances, so as to be able to repeat them at will immediately:
+in any such performance we may have gone some way beyond our ordinary
+powers, owing to some unconscious action of the mind.  The supreme
+effort has exhausted us, and we must rest on our oars a little,
+before we make further progress; or we may even fall back a little,
+before we make another leap in advance.
+
+In this respect, almost every conceivable degree of variation is
+observable, according to differences of character and circumstances.
+Sometimes the new impression has to be made upon us many times from
+without, before the earlier strain of action is eliminated; in this
+case, there will long remain a tendency to revert to the earlier
+habit.  Sometimes, after the impression has been once made, we repeat
+our old way two or three times, and then revert to the new, which
+gradually ousts the old; sometimes, on the other hand, a single
+impression, though involving considerable departure from our routine,
+makes its mark so deeply that we adopt the new at once, though not
+without difficulty, and repeat it in our next performance, and
+henceforward in all others; but those who vary their performance thus
+readily will show a tendency to vary subsequent performances
+according as they receive fresh ideas from others, or reason them out
+independently.  They are men of genius.
+
+This holds good concerning all actions which we do habitually,
+whether they involve laborious acquirement or not.  Thus, if we have
+varied our usual dinner in some way that leaves a favourable
+impression upon our minds, so that our dinner may, in the language of
+the horticulturist, be said to have "sported," our tendency will be
+to revert to this particular dinner either next day, or as soon as
+circumstances will allow, but it is possible that several hundred
+dinners may elapse before we can do so successfully, or before our
+memory reverts to this particular dinner.
+
+4.  As regards our habitual actions, however unconsciously we
+remember them, we, nevertheless, remember them with far greater
+intensity than many individual impressions or actions, it may be of
+much greater moment, that have happened to us more recently.  Thus,
+many a man who has familiarised himself, for example, with the odes
+of Horace, so as to have had them at his fingers' ends as the result
+of many repetitions, will be able years hence to repeat a given ode,
+though unable to remember any circumstance in connection with his
+having learnt it, and no less unable to remember when he repeated it
+last.  A host of individual circumstances, many of them not
+unimportant, will have dropped out of his mind, along with a mass of
+literature read but once or twice, and not impressed upon the memory
+by several repetitions; but he returns to the well-known ode with so
+little effort, that he would not know that he was remembering unless
+his reason told him so.  The ode seems more like something born with
+him.
+
+We observe, also, that people who have become imbecile, or whose
+memory is much impaired, yet frequently retain their power of
+recalling impression which have been long ago repeatedly made upon
+them.
+
+In such cases, people are sometimes seen to forget what happened last
+week, yesterday, or an hour ago, without even the smallest power of
+recovering their recollection; but the oft repeated earlier
+impression remains, though there may be no memory whatever of how it
+came to be impressed so deeply.  The phenomena of memory, therefore,
+are exactly like those of consciousness and volition, in so far as
+that the consciousness of recollection vanishes, when the power of
+recollection has become intense.  When we are aware that we are
+recollecting, and are trying, perhaps hard, to recollect, it is a
+sign that we do not recollect utterly.  When we remember utterly and
+intensely, there is no conscious effort of recollection; our
+recollection can only be recognised by ourselves and others, through
+our performance itself, which testifies to the existence of a memory,
+that we could not otherwise follow or detect.
+
+5.  When circumstances have led us to change our habits of life--as
+when the university has succeeded school, or professional life the
+university--we get into many fresh ways, and leave many old ones.
+But on revisiting the old scene, unless the lapse of time has been
+inordinately great, we experience a desire to revert to old habits.
+We say that old associations crowd upon us.  Let a Trinity man, after
+thirty years absence from Cambridge, pace for five minutes in the
+cloister of Neville's Court, and listen to the echo of his footfall,
+as it licks up against the end of the cloister, or let an old Johnian
+stand wherever he likes in the third Court of St. John's, in either
+case he will find the thirty years drop out of his life, as if they
+were half-an-hour; his life will have rolled back upon itself, to the
+date when he was an undergraduate, and his instinct will be to do
+almost mechanically, whatever it would have come most natural to him
+to do, when he was last there at the same season of the year, and the
+same hour of the day; and it is plain this is due to similarity of
+environment, for if the place he revisits be much changed, there will
+be little or no association.
+
+So those who are accustomed at intervals to cross the Atlantic, get
+into certain habits on board ship, different to their usual ones.  It
+may be that at home they never play whist; on board ship they do
+nothing else all the evening.  At home they never touch spirits; on
+the voyage they regularly take a glass of something before they go to
+bed.  They do not smoke at home; here they are smoking all day.  Once
+the voyage is at an end, they return without an effort to their usual
+habits, and do not feel any wish for cards, spirits, or tobacco.
+They do not remember yesterday, when they did want all these things;
+at least, not with such force as to be influenced by it in their
+desires and actions; their true memory--the memory which makes them
+want, and do, reverts to the last occasion on which they were in
+circumstances like their present; they therefore want now what they
+wanted then, and nothing more; but when the time comes for them to go
+on shipboard again, no sooner do they smell the smell of the ship,
+than their real memory reverts to the times when they were last at
+sea, and striking a balance of their recollections, they smoke, play
+cards, and drink whisky and water.
+
+We observe it then as a matter of the commonest daily occurrence
+within our own experience, that memory does fade completely away, and
+recur with the recurrence of surroundings like those which made any
+particular impression in the first instance.  We observe that there
+is hardly any limit to the completeness and the length of time during
+which our memory may remain in abeyance.  A smell may remind an old
+man of eighty of some incident of his childhood, forgotten for nearly
+as many years as he has lived.  In other words, we observe that when
+an impression has been repeatedly made in a certain sequence on any
+living organism--that impression not having been prejudicial to the
+creature itself--the organism will have a tendency, on reassuming the
+shape and conditions in which it was when the impression was last
+made, to remember the impression, and therefore to do again now what
+it did then; all intermediate memories dropping clean out of mind, so
+far as they have any effect upon action.
+
+6.  Finally, we should note the suddenness and apparent caprice with
+which memory will assert itself at odd times; we have been saying or
+doing this or that, when suddenly a memory of something which
+happened to us, perhaps in infancy, comes into our head; nor can we
+in the least connect this recollection with the subject of which we
+have just been thinking, though doubtless there has been a
+connection, too rapid and subtle for our apprehension.
+
+The foregoing phenomena of memory, so far as we can judge, would
+appear to be present themselves throughout the animal and vegetable
+kingdoms.  This will be readily admitted as regards animals; as
+regards plants it may be inferred from the fact that they generally
+go on doing what they have been doing most lately, though accustomed
+to make certain changes at certain points in their existence.  When
+the time comes for these changes, they appear to know it, and either
+bud forth into leaf or shed their leaves, as the case may be.  If we
+keep a bulb in a paper bag it seems to remember having been a bulb
+before, until the time comes for it to put forth roots and grow.
+Then, if we supply it with earth and moisture, it seems to know where
+it is, and to go on doing now whatever it did when it was last
+planted; but if we keep it in the bag too long, it knows that it
+ought, according to its last experience, to be treated differently,
+and shows plain symptoms of uneasiness; it is distracted by the bag,
+which makes it remember its bulbhood, and also by the want of earth
+and water, without which associations its memory of its previous
+growth cannot be duly kindled.  Its roots, therefore, which are most
+accustomed to earth and water, do not grow; but its leaves, which do
+not require contact with these things to jog their memory, make a
+more decided effort at development--a fact which would seem to go
+strongly in favour of the functional independence of the parts of all
+but the very simplest living organisms, if, indeed, more evidence
+were wanted in support of this.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X--WHAT WE SHOULD EXPECT TO FIND IF DIFFERENTIATIONS OF
+STRUCTURE AND INSTINCT ARE MAINLY DUE TO MEMORY
+
+
+
+To repeat briefly;--we remember best our last few performances of any
+given kind, and our present performance is most likely to resemble
+one or other of these; we only remember our earlier performances by
+way of residuum; nevertheless, at times, some older feature is liable
+to reappear.
+
+We take our steps in the same order on each successive occasion, and
+are for the most part incapable of changing that order.
+
+The introduction of slightly new elements into our manner is attended
+with benefit; the new can be fused with the old, and the monotony of
+our action is relieved.  But if the new element is too foreign, we
+cannot fuse the old and new--nature seeming equally to hate too wide
+a deviation from our ordinary practice, and no deviation at all.  Or,
+in plain English--if any one gives us a new idea which is not too far
+ahead of us, such an idea is often of great service to us, and may
+give new life to our work--in fact, we soon go back, unless we more
+or less frequently come into contact with new ideas, and are capable
+of understanding and making use of them; if; on the other hand, they
+are too new, and too little led up to, so that we find them too
+strange and hard to be able to understand them and adopt them, then
+they put us out, with every degree of completeness--from simply
+causing us to fail in this or that particular part, to rendering us
+incapable of even trying to do our work at all, from pure despair of
+succeeding.
+
+It requires many repetitions to fix an impression firmly; but when it
+is fixed, we cease to have much recollection of the manner in which
+it came to be so, or of any single and particular recurrence.
+
+Our memory is mainly called into action by force of association and
+similarity in the surroundings.  We want to go on doing what we did
+when we were last as we are now, and we forget what we did in the
+meantime.
+
+These rules, however, are liable to many exceptions; as for example,
+that a single and apparently not very extraordinary occurrence may
+sometimes produce a lasting impression, and be liable to return with
+sudden force at some distant time, and then to go on returning to us
+at intervals.  Some incidents, in fact, we know not how nor why,
+dwell with us much longer than others which were apparently quite as
+noteworthy or perhaps more so.
+
+Now I submit that if the above observations are just, and if, also,
+the offspring, after having become a new and separate personality,
+yet retains so much of the old identity of which it was once
+indisputably part, that it remembers what it did when it was part of
+that identity as soon as it finds itself in circumstances which are
+calculated to refresh its memory owing to their similarity to certain
+antecedent ones, then we should expect to find:-
+
+I.  That offspring should, as a general rule, resemble its own most
+immediate progenitors; that is to say, that it should remember best
+what it has been doing most recently.  The memory being a fusion of
+its recollections of what it did, both when it was its father and
+also when it was its mother, the offspring should have a very common
+tendency to resemble both parents, the one in some respects, and the
+other in others; but it might also hardly less commonly show a more
+marked recollection of the one history than of the other, thus more
+distinctly resembling one parent than the other.  And this is what we
+observe to be the case.  Not only so far as that the offspring is
+almost invariably either male or female, and generally resembles
+rather the one parent than the other, but also that in spite of such
+preponderance of one set of recollections, the sexual characters and
+instincts of the OPPOSITE sex appear, whether in male or female,
+though undeveloped and incapable of development except by abnormal
+treatment, such as has occasionally caused milk to be developed in
+the mammary glands of males; or by mutilation, or failure of sexual
+instinct through age, upon which, male characteristics frequently
+appear in the females of any species.
+
+Brothers and sisters, each giving their own version of the same
+story, though in different words, should resemble each other more
+closely than more distant relations.  This too we see.
+
+But it should frequently happen that offspring should resemble its
+penultimate rather than its latest phase, and should thus be more
+like a grand-parent than a parent; for we observe that we very often
+repeat a performance in a manner resembling that of some earlier, but
+still recent, repetition; rather than on the precise lines of our
+very last performance.  First-cousins may in this case resemble each
+other more closely than brothers and sisters.
+
+More especially, we should not expect very successful men to be
+fathers of particularly gifted children; for the best men are, as it
+were, the happy thoughts and successes of the race--nature's
+"flukes," so to speak, in her onward progress.  No creature can
+repeat at will, and immediately, its highest flight.  It needs
+repose.  The generations are the essays of any given race towards the
+highest ideal which it is as yet able to see ahead of itself, and
+this, in the nature of things, cannot be very far; so that we should
+expect to see success followed by more or less failure, and failure
+by success--a very successful creature being a GREAT "fluke."  And
+this is what we find.
+
+In its earlier stages the embryo should be simply conscious of a
+general method of procedure on the part of its forefathers, and
+should, by reason of long practice, compress tedious and complicated
+histories into a very narrow compass, remembering no single
+performance in particular.  For we observe this in nature, both as
+regards the sleight-of-hand which practice gives to those who are
+thoroughly familiar with their business, and also as regards the
+fusion of remoter memories into a general residuum.
+
+II.  We should expect to find that the offspring, whether in its
+embryonic condition, or in any stage of development till it has
+reached maturity, should adopt nearly the same order in going through
+all its various stages.  There should be such slight variations as
+are inseparable from the repetition of any performance by a living
+being (as contrasted with a machine), but no more.  And this is what
+actually happens.  A man may cut his wisdom-teeth a little later than
+he gets his beard and whiskers, or a little earlier; but on the
+whole, he adheres to his usual order, and is completely set off his
+balance, and upset in his performance, if that order be interfered
+with suddenly.  It is, however, likely that gradual modifications of
+order have been made and then adhered to.
+
+After any animal has reached the period at which it ordinarily begins
+to continue its race, we should expect that it should show little
+further power of development, or, at any rate, that few great changes
+of structure or fresh features should appear; 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
+would cease to have any further experience on which to fall back, and
+would thus continue to make the best use of what it already knew,
+till memory failing either in one part or another, the organism would
+begin to decay.
+
+To this cause must be referred the phenomena of old age, which
+interesting subject I am unable to pursue within the limits of this
+volume.
+
+Those creatures who are longest in reaching maturity might be
+expected also to be the longest lived; I am not certain, however, how
+far what is called alternate generation militates against this view,
+but I do not think it does so seriously.
+
+Lateness of marriage, provided the constitution of the individuals
+marrying is in no respect impaired, should also tend to longevity.
+
+I believe that all the above will be found sufficiently well
+supported by facts.  If so, when we feel that we are getting old we
+should try and give our cells such treatment as they will find it
+most easy to understand, through their experience of their own
+individual life, which, however, can only guide them inferentially,
+and to a very small extent; and throughout life we should remember
+the important bearing which memory has upon health, and both
+occasionally cross the memories of our component cells with slightly
+new experiences, and be careful not to put them either suddenly or
+for long together into conditions which they will not be able to
+understand.  Nothing is so likely to make our cells forget
+themselves, as neglect of one or other of these considerations.  They
+will either fail to recognise themselves completely, in which case we
+shall die; or they will go on strike, more or less seriously as the
+case may be, or perhaps, rather, they will try and remember their
+usual course, and fail; they will therefore try some other, and will
+probably make a mess of it, as people generally do when they try to
+do things which they do not understand, unless indeed they have very
+exceptional capacity.
+
+It also follows that when we are ill, our cells being in such or such
+a state of mind, and inclined to hold a corresponding opinion with
+more or less unreasoning violence, should not be puzzled more than
+they are puzzled already, by being contradicted too suddenly; for
+they will not be in a frame of mind which can understand the position
+of an open opponent:  they should therefore either be let alone, if
+possible, without notice other than dignified silence, till their
+spleen is over, and till they have remembered themselves; or they
+should be reasoned with as by one who agrees with them, and who is
+anxious to see things as far as possible from their own point of
+view.  And this is how experience teaches that we must deal with
+monomaniacs, whom we simply infuriate by contradiction, but whose
+delusion we can sometimes persuade to hang itself if we but give it
+sufficient rope.  All which has its bearing upon politics, too, at
+much sacrifice, it may be, of political principles, but a politician
+who cannot see principles where principle-mongers fail to see them,
+is a dangerous person.
+
+I may say, in passing, that the reason why a small wound heals, and
+leaves no scar, while a larger one leaves a mark which is more or
+less permanent, may be looked for in the fact that when the wound is
+only small, the damaged cells are snubbed, so to speak, by the vast
+majority of the unhurt cells in their own neighbourhood.  When the
+wound is more serious they can stick to it, and bear each other out
+that they were hurt.
+
+III.  We should expect to find a predominance of sexual over asexual
+generation, in the arrangements of nature for continuing her various
+species, inasmuch as two heads are better than one, and a locus
+poenitentiae is thus given to the embryo--an opportunity of
+correcting the experience of one parent by that of the other.  And
+this is what the more intelligent embryos may be supposed to do; for
+there would seem little reason to doubt that there are clever embryos
+and stupid embryos, with better or worse memories, as the case may
+be, of how they dealt with their protoplasm before, and better or
+worse able to see how they can do better now; and that embryos differ
+as widely in intellectual and moral capacity, and in a general sense
+of the fitness of things, and of what will look well into the
+bargain, as those larger embryos--to wit, children--do.  Indeed it
+would seem probable that all our mental powers must go through a
+quasi-embryological condition, much as the power of keeping, and
+wisely spending, money must do so, and that all the qualities of
+human thought and character are to be found in the embryo.
+
+Those who have observed at what an early age differences of intellect
+and temper show themselves in the young, for example, of cats and
+dogs, will find it difficult to doubt that from the very moment of
+impregnation, and onward, there has been a corresponding difference
+in the embryo--and that of six unborn puppies, one, we will say, has
+been throughout the whole process of development more sensible and
+better looking--a nicer embryo, in fact--than the others.
+
+IV.  We should expect to find that all species, whether of plants or
+animals, are occasionally benefited by a cross; but we should also
+expect that a cross should have a tendency to introduce a disturbing
+element, if it be too wide, inasmuch as the offspring would be pulled
+hither and thither by two conflicting memories or advices, much as
+though a number of people speaking at once were without previous
+warning to advise an unhappy performer to vary his ordinary
+performance--one set of people telling him he has always hitherto
+done thus, and the other saying no less loudly that he did it thus;--
+and he were suddenly to become convinced that they each spoke the
+truth.  In such a case he will either completely break down, if the
+advice be too conflicting, or if it be less conflicting, he may yet
+be so exhausted by the one supreme effort of fusing these experiences
+that he will never be able to perform again; or if the conflict of
+experience be not great enough to produce such a permanent effect as
+this, it will yet, if it be at all serious, probably damage his
+performances on their next several occasions, through his inability
+to fuse the experiences into a harmonious whole, or, in other words,
+to understand the ideas which are prescribed to him; for to fuse is
+only to understand.
+
+And this is absolutely what we find in fact.  Mr. Darwin writes
+concerning hybrids and first crosses:- "The male element may reach
+the female element, but be incapable of causing an embryo to be
+developed, as seems to have been the case with some of Thuret's
+experiments on Fuci.  No explanation can be given of these facts any
+more than why certain trees cannot be grafted on others."
+
+I submit that what I have written above supplies a very fair prima
+facie explanation.
+
+Mr. Darwin continues:-
+
+"Lastly, an embryo may be developed, and then perish at an early
+period.  This latter alternative has not been sufficiently attended
+to; but I believe, from observations communicated to me by Mr.
+Hewitt, who has had great experience in hybridising pheasants and
+fowls, that the early death of the embryo is a very frequent cause of
+sterility in first crosses.  Mr. Salter has recently given the
+results of an examination of about five hundred eggs produced from
+various crosses between three species of Gallus and their hybrids;
+the majority of these eggs had been fertilised; and in the majority
+of the fertilised eggs, the embryos had either been partially
+developed, and had then perished, or had become nearly mature, but
+the young chickens had been unable to break through the shell.  Of
+the chickens which were born more than four-fifths died within the
+first few days, or at latest weeks, 'without any obvious cause,
+apparently from mere inability to live,' so that from the five
+hundred eggs only twelve chickens were reared" ("Origin of Species,"
+249, ed. 1876).
+
+No wonder the poor creatures died, distracted as they were by the
+internal tumult of conflicting memories.  But they must have suffered
+greatly; and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals may
+perhaps think it worth while to keep an eye even on the embryos of
+hybrids and first crosses.  Five hundred creatures puzzled to death
+is not a pleasant subject for contemplation.  Ten or a dozen should,
+I think, be sufficient for the future.
+
+As regards plants, we read:-
+
+"Hybridised embryos probably often perish in like manner . . . of
+which fact Max Wichura has given some striking cases with hybrid
+willows . . . It may be here worth noticing, that in some cases of
+parthenogenesis, the embryos within the eggs of silk moths, which
+have not been fertilised, pass through their early stages of
+development, and then perish like the embryos produced by a cross
+between distinct species" (Ibid).
+
+This last fact would at first sight seem to make against me, but we
+must consider that the presence of a double memory, provided it be
+not too conflicting, would be a part of the experience of the silk
+moth's egg, which might be then as fatally puzzled by the monotony of
+a single memory as it would be by two memories which were not
+sufficiently like each other.  So that failure here must be referred
+to the utter absence of that little internal stimulant of slightly
+conflicting memory which the creature has always hitherto
+experienced, and without which it fails to recognise itself.  In
+either case, then, whether with hybrids or in cases of
+parthenogenesis, the early death of the embryo is due to inability to
+recollect, owing to a fault in the chain of associated ideas.  All
+the facts here given are an excellent illustration of the principle,
+elsewhere insisted upon by Mr. Darwin, that ANY great and sudden
+change of surroundings has a tendency to induce sterility; on which
+head he writes ("Plants and Animals under Domestication," vol. ii. p.
+143, ed. 1875):-
+
+"It would appear that any change in the habits of life, whatever
+their habits may be, if great enough, tends to affect in an
+inexplicable manner the powers of reproduction."
+
+And again on the next page:-
+
+"Finally, we must conclude, limited though the conclusion is, that
+changed conditions of life have an especial power of acting
+injuriously on the reproductive system.  The whole case is quite
+peculiar, for these organs, though not diseased, are thus rendered
+incapable of performing their proper functions, or perform them
+imperfectly."
+
+One is inclined to doubt whether the blame may not rest with the
+inability on the part of the creature reproduced to recognise the new
+surroundings, and hence with its failing to know itself.  And this
+seems to be in some measure supported--but not in such a manner as I
+can hold to be quite satisfactory--by the continuation of the passage
+in the "Origin of Species," from which I have just been quoting--for
+Mr. Darwin goes on to say:-
+
+"Hybrids, however, are differently circumstanced before and after
+birth.  When born, and living in a country where their parents live,
+they are generally placed under suitable conditions of life.  But a
+hybrid partakes of only half of the nature and condition of its
+mother; it may therefore before birth, as long as it is nourished
+within its mother's womb, or within the egg or seed produced by its
+mother, be exposed to conditions in some degree unsuitable, and
+consequently be liable to perish at an early period . . . "  After
+which, however, the conclusion arrived at is, that, "after all, the
+cause more probably lies in some imperfection in the original act of
+impregnation, causing the embryo to be imperfectly developed rather
+than in the conditions to which it is subsequently exposed."  A
+conclusion which I am not prepared to accept.
+
+Returning to my second alternative, that is to say, to the case of
+hybrids which are born well developed and healthy, but nevertheless
+perfectly sterile, it is less obvious why, having succeeded in
+understanding the conflicting memories of their parents, they should
+fail to produce offspring; but I do not think the reader will feel
+surprised that this should be the case.  The following anecdote, true
+or false, may not be out of place here:-
+
+"Plutarch tells us of a magpie, belonging to a barber at Rome, which
+could imitate to a nicety almost every word it heard.  Some trumpets
+happened one day to be sounded before the shop, and for a day or two
+afterwards the magpie was quite mute, and seemed pensive and
+melancholy.  All who knew it were greatly surprised at its silence;
+and it was supposed that the sound of the trumpets had so stunned it
+as to deprive it at once of both voice and hearing.  It soon
+appeared, however, that this was far from being the case; for, says
+Plutarch, the bird had been all the time occupied in profound
+meditation, studying how to imitate the sound of the trumpets; and
+when at last master of it, the magpie, to the astonishment of all its
+friends, suddenly broke its long silence by a perfect imitation of
+the flourish of trumpets it had heard, observing with the greatest
+exactness all the repetitions, stops, and changes.  THE ACQUISITION
+OF THIS LESSON HAD, HOWEVER, EXHAUSTED THE WHOLE OF THE MAGPIE'S
+STOCK OF INTELLECT, FOR IT MADE IT FORGET EVERYTHING IT HAD LEARNED
+BEFORE" ("Percy Anecdotes," Instinct, p. 166).
+
+Or, perhaps, more seriously, the memory of every impregnate ovum from
+which every ancestor of a mule, for example, has sprung, has reverted
+to a very long period of time during which its forefathers have been
+creatures like that which it is itself now going to become:  thus,
+the impregnate ovum from which the mule's father was developed
+remembered nothing but horse memories; but it felt its faith in these
+supported by the recollection of a VAST NUMBER of previous
+generations, in which it was, to all intents and purposes, what it
+now is.  In like manner, the impregnate ovum from which the mule's
+mother was developed would be backed by the assurance that it had
+done what it is going to do now a hundred thousand times already.
+All would thus be plain sailing.  A horse and a donkey would result.
+These two are brought together; an impregnate ovum is produced which
+finds an unusual conflict of memory between the two lines of its
+ancestors, nevertheless, being accustomed to SOME conflict, it
+manages to get over the difficulty, AS ON EITHER SIDE IT FINDS ITSELF
+BACKED BY A VERY LONG SERIES OF SUFFICIENTLY STEADY MEMORY.  A mule
+results--a creature so distinctly different from either horse or
+donkey, that reproduction is baffled, owing to the creature's having
+nothing but its own knowledge of itself to fall back upon, behind
+which there comes an immediate dislocation, or fault of memory, which
+is sufficient to bar identity, and hence reproduction, by rendering
+too severe an appeal to reason necessary--for no creature can
+reproduce itself on the shallow foundation which reason can alone
+give.  Ordinarily, therefore, the hybrid, or the spermatozoon or
+ovum, which it may throw off (as the case may be), finds one single
+experience too small to give it the necessary faith, on the strength
+of which even to try to reproduce itself.  In other cases the hybrid
+itself has failed to be developed; in others the hybrid, or first
+cross, is almost fertile; in others it is fertile, but produces
+depraved issue.  The result will vary with the capacities of the
+creatures crossed, and the amount of conflict between their several
+experiences.
+
+The above view would remove all difficulties out of the way of
+evolution, in so far as the sterility of hybrids is concerned.  For
+it would thus appear that this sterility has nothing to do with any
+supposed immutable or fixed limits of species, but results simply
+from the same principle which prevents old friends, no matter how
+intimate in youth, from returning to their old intimacy after a lapse
+of years, during which they have been subjected to widely different
+influences, inasmuch as they will each have contracted new habits,
+and have got into new ways, which they do not like now to alter.
+
+We should expect that our domesticated plants and animals should vary
+most, inasmuch as these have been subjected to changed conditions
+which would disturb the memory, and, breaking the chain of
+recollection, through failure of some one or other of the associated
+ideas, would thus directly and most markedly affect the reproductive
+system.  Every reader of Mr. Darwin will know that this is what
+actually happens, and also that when once a plant or animal begins to
+vary, it will probably vary a good deal further; which, again, is
+what we should expect--the disturbance of the memory introducing a
+fresh factor of disturbance, which has to be dealt with by the
+offspring as it best may.  Mr. Darwin writes:  "All our domesticated
+productions, with the rarest exceptions, vary far more than natural
+species" ("Plants and Animals," &c., vol ii. p. 241, ed. 1875).
+
+On my third supposition, i.e., when the difference between parents
+has not been great enough to baffle reproduction on the part of the
+first cross, but when the histories of the father and mother have
+been, nevertheless, widely different--as in the case of Europeans and
+Indians--we should expect to have a race of offspring who should seem
+to be quite clear only about those points, on which their progenitors
+on both sides were in accord before the manifold divergencies in
+their experiences commenced; that is to say, the offspring should
+show a tendency to revert to an early savage condition.
+
+That this indeed occurs may be seen from Mr. Darwin's "Plants and
+Animals under Domestication" (vol ii. p. 21, ed. 1875), where we find
+that travellers in all parts of the world have frequently remarked
+"ON THE DEGRADED STATE AND SAVAGE CONDITION OF CROSSED RACES OF MAN."
+A few lines lower down Mr. Darwin tells us that he was himself
+"struck with the fact that, in South America, men of complicated
+descent between Negroes, Indians, and Spaniards seldom had, whatever
+the cause might be, a good expression."  "Livingstone" (continues Mr.
+Darwin) "remarks, 'It is unaccountable why half-castes are so much
+more cruel than the Portuguese, but such is undoubtedly the case.'
+An inhabitant remarked to Livingstone, 'God made white men, and God
+made black men, but the devil made half-castes.'"  A little further
+on Mr. Darwin says that we may "perhaps infer that the degraded state
+of so many half-castes IS IN PART DUE TO REVERSION TO A PRIMITIVE AND
+SAVAGE CONDITION, INDUCED BY THE ACT OF CROSSING, even if mainly due
+to the unfavourable moral conditions under which they are generally
+reared."  Why the crossing should produce this particular tendency
+would seem to be intelligible enough, if the fashion and instincts of
+offspring are, in any case, nothing but the memories of its past
+existences; but it would hardly seem to be so upon any of the
+theories now generally accepted; as, indeed, is very readily admitted
+by Mr. Darwin himself, who even, as regards purely-bred animals and
+plants, remarks that "we are quite unable to assign any proximate
+cause" for their tendency to at times reassume long lost characters.
+
+If the reader will follow for himself the remaining phenomena of
+reversion, he will, I believe, find them all explicable on the theory
+that they are due to memory of past experiences fused, and modified--
+at times specifically and definitely--by changed conditions.  There
+is, however, one apparently very important phenomenon which I do not
+at this moment see how to connect with memory, namely, the tendency
+on the part of offspring to revert to an earlier impregnation.  Mr.
+Darwin's "Provisional Theory of Pangenesis" seemed to afford a
+satisfactory explanation of this; but the connection with memory was
+not immediately apparent.  I think it likely, however, that this
+difficulty will vanish on further consideration, so I will not do
+more than call attention to it here.
+
+The instincts of certain neuter insects hardly bear upon reversion,
+but will be dealt with at some length in Chapter XII.
+
+V.  We should expect to find, as was insisted on in the preceding
+section in reference to the sterility of hybrids, that it required
+many, or at any rate several, generations of changed habits before a
+sufficiently deep impression could be made upon the living being (who
+must be regarded always as one person in his whole line of ascent or
+descent) for it to be unconsciously remembered by him, when making
+himself anew in any succeeding generation, and thus to make him
+modify his method of procedure during his next embryological
+development.  Nevertheless, we should expect to find that sometimes a
+very deep single impression made upon a living organism, should be
+remembered by it, even when it is next in an embryonic condition.
+
+That this is so, we find from Mr. Darwin, who writes ("Plants and
+Animals under Domestication," vol. ii. p. 57, ed. 1875)--"There is
+ample evidence that the effect of mutilations and of accidents,
+especially, or perhaps exclusively, when followed by disease" (which
+would certainly intensify the impression made), "are occasionally
+inherited.  There can be no doubt that the evil effects of the long
+continued exposure of the parent to injurious conditions are
+sometimes transmitted to the offspring."  As regards impressions of a
+less striking character, it is so universally admitted that they are
+not observed to be repeated in what is called the offspring, until
+they have been confirmed in what is called the parent, for several
+generations, but that after several generations, more or fewer as the
+case may be, they often are transmitted--that it seems unnecessary to
+say more upon the matter.  Perhaps, however, the following passage
+from Mr. Darwin may be admitted as conclusive:-
+
+"That they" (acquired actions) "are inherited, we see with horses in
+certain transmitted paces, such as cantering and ambling, which are
+not natural to them--in the pointing of young pointers, and the
+setting of young setters--in the peculiar manner of flight of certain
+breeds of the pigeon, &c.  We have analogous cases with mankind in
+the inheritance of tricks or unusual gestures." . . . ("Expression of
+the Emotions," p. 29).
+
+In another place Mr. Darwin writes:-
+
+"How again can we explain THE INHERITED EFFECTS of the use or disuse
+of particular organs?  The domesticated duck flies less and walks
+more than the wild duck, and its limb bones have become diminished
+and increased in a corresponding manner in comparison with those of
+the wild duck.  A horse is trained to certain paces, and the colt
+inherits similar consensual movements.  The domesticated rabbit
+becomes tame from close confinement; the dog intelligent from
+associating with man; the retriever is taught to fetch and carry; and
+these mental endowments and bodily powers are all inherited" ("Plants
+and Animals," &c., vol. ii. p. 367, ed. 1875).
+
+"Nothing," he continues, "in the whole circuit of physiology is more
+wonderful.  How can the use or disuse of a particular limb, or of the
+brain, affect a small aggregate of reproductive cells, seated in a
+distant part of the body in such a manner that the being developed
+from these cells inherits the character of one or both parents?  Even
+an imperfect answer to this question would be satisfactory" ("Plants
+and Animals," &c. vol. ii. p. 367, ed. 1875).
+
+With such an imperfect answer will I attempt to satisfy the reader,
+as to say that there appears to be that kind of continuity of
+existence and sameness of personality, between parents and offspring,
+which would lead us to expect that the impressions made upon the
+parent should be epitomised in the offspring, when they have been or
+have become important enough, through repetition in the history of
+several so-called existences to have earned a place in that smaller
+edition, which is issued from generation to generation; or, in other
+words, when they have been made so deeply, either at one blow or
+through many, that the offspring can remember them.  In practice we
+observe this to be the case--so that the answer lies in the assertion
+that offspring and parent, being in one sense but the same
+individual, there is no great wonder that, in one sense, the first
+should remember what had happened to the latter; and that too, much
+in the same way as the individual remembers the events in the earlier
+history of what he calls his own lifetime, but condensed, and pruned
+of detail, and remembered as by one who has had a host of other
+matters to attend to in the interim.
+
+It is thus easy to understand why such a rite as circumcision, though
+practised during many ages, should have produced little, if any,
+modification tending to make circumcision unnecessary.  On the view
+here supported such modification would be more surprising than not,
+for unless the impression made upon the parent was of a grave
+character--and probably unless also aggravated by subsequent
+confusion of memories in the cells surrounding the part originally
+impressed--the parent himself would not be sufficiently impressed to
+prevent him from reproducing himself, as he had already done upon an
+infinite number of past occasions.  The child, therefore, in the womb
+would do what the father in the womb had done before him, nor should
+any trace of memory concerning circumcision be expected till the
+eighth day after birth, when, but for the fact that the impression in
+this case is forgotten almost as soon as made, some slight
+presentiment of coming discomfort might, after a large number of
+generations, perhaps be looked for as a general rule.  It would not,
+however, be surprising, that the effect of circumcision should be
+occasionally inherited, and it would appear as though this was
+sometimes actually the case.
+
+The question should turn upon whether the disuse of an organ has
+arisen:-
+
+1.  From an internal desire on the part of the creature disusing it,
+to be quit of an organ which it finds troublesome.
+
+2.  From changed conditions and habits which render the organ no
+longer necessary, or which lead the creature to lay greater stress on
+certain other organs or modifications.
+
+3.  From the wish of others outside itself; the effect produced in
+this case being perhaps neither very good nor very bad for the
+individual, and resulting in no grave impression upon the organism as
+a whole.
+
+4.  From a single deep impression on a parent, affecting both himself
+as a whole, and gravely confusing the memories of the cells to be
+reproduced, or his memories in respect of those cells--according as
+one adopts Pangenesis and supposes a memory to "run" each gemmule, or
+as one supposes one memory to "run" the whole impregnate ovum--a
+compromise between these two views being nevertheless perhaps
+possible, inasmuch as the combined memories of all the cells may
+possibly BE the memory which "runs" the impregnate ovum, just as we
+ARE ourselves the combination of all our cells, each one of which is
+both autonomous, and also takes its share in the central government.
+But within the limits of this volume it is absolutely impossible for
+me to go into this question.
+
+In the first case--under which some instances which belong more
+strictly to the fourth would sometimes, but rarely, come--the organ
+should soon go, and sooner or later leave no rudiment, though still
+perhaps to be found crossing the life of the embryo, and then
+disappearing.
+
+In the second it should go more slowly, and leave, it may be, a
+rudimentary structure.
+
+In the third it should show little or no sign of natural decrease for
+a very long time.
+
+In the fourth there may be absolute and total sterility, or sterility
+in regard to the particular organ, or a scar which shall show that
+the memory of the wound and of each step in the process of healing
+has been remembered; or there may be simply such disturbance in the
+reproduced organ as shall show a confused recollection of injury.
+There may be infinite gradations between the first and last of these
+possibilities.
+
+I think that the facts, as given by Mr. Darwin ("Plants and Animals,"
+&c., vol i. pp. 466-472, ed. 1875), will bear out the above to the
+satisfaction of the reader.  I can, however, only quote the following
+passage:-
+
+" . . . Brown Sequard has bred during thirty years many thousand
+guinea-pigs, . . . 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 fact thirteen instances were carefully recorded, and a greater
+number were seen; yet Brown Sequard speaks of such cases as among 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
+DIVISION till after its reunion with the peripheric end.  It is not
+therefore the power of simply performing an action which is
+inherited, but the power of performing a whole series of actions in a
+certain order.'"
+
+I feel inclined to say it is not merely the original wound that is
+remembered, but the whole process of cure which is now accordingly
+repeated.  Brown Sequard concludes, as Mr. Darwin tells us, "that
+what is transmitted is the morbid state of the nervous system," due
+to the operation performed on the parents.
+
+A little lower down Mr. Darwin writes that Professor Rolleston has
+given him two cases--"namely, of two men, one of whom had his knee,
+and the other his cheek, severely cut, and both had children born
+with exactly the same spot marked or scarred."
+
+VI.  When, however, an impression has once reached transmission
+point--whether it be of the nature of a sudden striking thought,
+which makes its mark deeply then and there, or whether it be the
+result of smaller impressions repeated until the nail, so to speak,
+has been driven home--we should expect that it should be remembered
+by the offspring as something which he has done all his life, and
+which he has therefore no longer any occasion to learn; he will act,
+therefore, as people say, INSTINCTIVELY.  No matter how complex and
+difficult the process, if the parents have done it sufficiently often
+(that is to say, for a sufficient number of generations), the
+offspring will remember the fact when association wakens the memory;
+it will need no instruction, and--unless when it has been taught to
+look for it during many generations--will expect none.  This may be
+seen in the case of the humming-bird sphinx moth, which, as Mr.
+Darwin writes, "shortly after its emergence from the cocoon, as shown
+by the bloom on its unruffled scales, may be seen poised stationary
+in the air with its long hair-like proboscis uncurled, and inserted
+into the minute orifices of flowers; AND NO ONE I BELIEVE HAS EVER
+SEEN this moth learning to perform its difficult task, which requires
+such unerring aim" ("Expression of the Emotions," p. 30).
+
+And, indeed, when we consider that after a time the most complex and
+difficult actions come to be performed by man without the least
+effort or consciousness--that offspring cannot be considered as
+anything but a continuation of the parent life, whose past habits and
+experiences it epitomises when they have been sufficiently often
+repeated to produce a lasting impression--that consciousness of
+memory vanishes on the memory's becoming intense, as completely as
+the consciousness of complex and difficult movements vanishes as soon
+as they have been sufficiently practised--and finally, that the real
+presence of memory is testified rather by performance of the repeated
+action on recurrence of like surroundings, than by consciousness of
+recollecting on the part of the individual--so that not only should
+there be no reasonable bar to our attributing the whole range of the
+more complex instinctive actions, from first to last, to memory pure
+and simple, no matter how marvellous they may be, but rather that
+there is so much to compel us to do so, that we find it difficult to
+conceive how any other view can have been ever taken--when, I say, we
+consider all these facts, we should rather feel surprise that the
+hawk and sparrow still teach their offspring to fly, than that the
+humming-bird sphinx moth should need no teacher.
+
+The phenomena, then, which we observe are exactly those which we
+should expect to find.
+
+VII.  We should also expect that the memory of animals, as regards
+their earlier existences, was solely stimulated by association.  For
+we find, from Prof. Bain, that "actions, sensations, and states of
+feeling occurring together, or in close succession, tend to grow
+together or cohere in such a way that when any one of them is
+afterwards presented to the mind, the others are apt to be brought up
+in idea" ("The Senses and the Intellect," 2d ed. 1864, p. 332).  And
+Prof. Huxley says ("Elementary Lessons in Physiology," 5th ed. 1872,
+p. 306), "It may be laid down as a rule that if any two mental states
+be called up together, or in succession, with due frequency and
+vividness, the subsequent production of the one of them will suffice
+to call up the other, AND THAT WHETHER WE DESIRE IT OR NOT."  I would
+go one step further, and would say not only whether we desire it or
+not, but WHETHER WE ARE AWARE THAT THE IDEA HAS EVER BEFORE BEEN
+CALLED UP IN OUR MINDS OR NOT.  I should say that I have quoted both
+the above passages from Mr. Darwin's "Expression of the Emotions" (p.
+30, ed. 1872).
+
+We should, therefore, expect that when the offspring found itself in
+the presence of objects which had called up such and such ideas for a
+sufficient number of generations, that is to say, "with due frequency
+and vividness"--it being of the same age as its parents were, and
+generally in like case as when the ideas were called up in the minds
+of the parents--the same ideas should also be called up in the minds
+of the offspring "WHETHER THEY DESIRE IT OR NOT;" and, I would say
+also, "whether they recognise the ideas as having ever before been
+present to them or not."
+
+I think we might also expect that no other force, save that of
+association, should have power to kindle, so to speak, into the flame
+of action the atomic spark of memory, which we can alone suppose to
+be transmitted from one generation to another.
+
+That both plants and animals do as we should expect of them in this
+respect is plain, not only from the performance of the most intricate
+and difficult actions--difficult both physically and intellectually--
+at an age, and under circumstances which preclude all possibility of
+what we call instruction, but from the fact that deviations from the
+parental instinct, or rather the recurrence of a memory, unless in
+connection with the accustomed train of associations, is of
+comparatively rare occurrence; the result, commonly, of some one of
+the many memories about which we know no more than we do of the
+memory which enables a cat to find her way home after a hundred-mile
+journey by train, and shut up in a hamper, or, perhaps even more
+commonly, of abnormal treatment.
+
+VIII.  If, then, memory depends on association, we should expect two
+corresponding phenomena in the case of plants and animals--namely,
+that they should show a tendency to resume feral habits on being
+turned wild after several generations of domestication, and also that
+peculiarities should tend to show themselves at a corresponding age
+in the offspring and in the parents.  As regards the tendency to
+resume feral habits, Mr. Darwin, though apparently of opinion that
+the tendency to do this has been much exaggerated, yet does not doubt
+that such a tendency exists, as shown by well authenticated
+instances.  He writes:  "It has been repeatedly asserted in the most
+positive manner by various authors that feral animals and plants
+invariably return to their primitive specific type."
+
+This shows, at any rate, that there is a considerable opinion to this
+effect among observers generally.
+
+He continues:  "It is curious on what little evidence this belief
+rests.  Many of our domesticated animals could not subsist in a wild
+state,"--so that there is no knowing whether they would or would not
+revert.  "In several cases we do not know the aboriginal parent
+species, and cannot tell whether or not there has been any close
+degree of reversion."  So that here, too, there is at any rate no
+evidence AGAINST the tendency; the conclusion, however, is that,
+notwithstanding the deficiency of positive evidence to warrant the
+general belief as to the force of the tendency, yet "the simple fact
+of animals and plants becoming feral does cause some tendency to
+revert to the primitive state," and he tells us that "when variously-
+coloured tame rabbits are turned out in Europe, they generally re-
+acquire the colouring of the wild animal;" there can be no doubt," he
+says, "that this really does occur," though he seems inclined to
+account for it by the fact that oddly-coloured and conspicuous
+animals would suffer much from beasts of prey and from being easily
+shot.  "The best known case of reversion:" he continues, "and that on
+which the widely-spread belief in its universality apparently rests,
+is that of pigs.  These animals have run wild in the West Indies,
+South America, and the Falkland Islands, and have everywhere re-
+acquired the dark colour, the thick bristles, and great tusks of the
+wild boar; and the young have re-acquired longitudinal stripes."  And
+on page 22 of "Plants and Animals under Domestication" (vol. ii. ed.
+1875) we find that "the re-appearance of coloured, longitudinal
+stripes on young feral pigs cannot be attributed to the direct action
+of external conditions.  In this case, and in many others, we can
+only say that any change in the habits of life apparently favours a
+tendency, inherent or latent, in the species to return to the
+primitive state."  On which one cannot but remark that though any
+change may favour such tendency, yet the return to original habits
+and surroundings appears to do so in a way so marked as not to be
+readily referable to any other cause than that of association and
+memory--the creature, in fact, having got into its old groove,
+remembers it, and takes to all its old ways.
+
+As regards the tendency to inherit changes (whether embryonic, or
+during post-natal development as ordinarily observed in any species),
+or peculiarities of habit or form which do not partake of the nature
+of disease, it must be sufficient to refer the reader to Mr. Darwin's
+remarks upon this subject ("Plants and Animals Under Domestication,"
+vol. ii. pp. 51-57, ed. 1875).  The existence of the tendency is not
+likely to be denied.  The instances given by Mr. Darwin are strictly
+to the point as regards all ordinary developmental and metamorphic
+changes, and even as regards transmitted acquired actions, and tricks
+acquired before the time when the offspring has issued from the body
+of the parent, or on an average of many generations does so; but it
+cannot for a moment be supposed that the offspring knows by
+inheritance anything about what happens to the parent subsequently to
+the offspring's being born.  Hence the appearance of diseases in the
+offspring, at comparatively late periods in life, but at the same age
+as, or earlier, than in the parents, must be regarded as due to the
+fact that in each case the machine having been made after the same
+pattern (which IS due to memory), is liable to have the same weak
+points, and to break down after a similar amount of wear and tear;
+but after less wear and tear in the case of the offspring than in
+that of the parent, because a diseased organism is commonly a
+deteriorating organism, and if repeated at all closely, and without
+repentance and amendment of life, will be repeated for the worse.  If
+we do not improve, we grow worse.  This, at least, is what we observe
+daily.
+
+Nor again can we believe, as some have fancifully imagined, that the
+remembrance of any occurrence of which the effect has been entirely,
+or almost entirely mental, should be remembered by offspring with any
+definiteness.  The intellect of the offspring might be affected, for
+better or worse, by the general nature of the intellectual employment
+of the parent; or a great shock to a parent might destroy or weaken
+the intellect of the offspring; but unless a deep impression were
+made upon the cells of the body, and deepened by subsequent disease,
+we could not expect it to be remembered with any definiteness, or
+precision.  We may talk as we will about mental pain, and mental
+scars, but after all, the impressions they leave are incomparably
+less durable than those made by an organic lesion.  It is probable,
+therefore, that the feeling which so many have described, as though
+they remembered this or that in some past existence, is purely
+imaginary, and due rather to unconscious recognition of the fact that
+we certainly have lived before, than to any actual occurrence
+corresponding to the supposed recollection.
+
+And lastly, we should look to find in the action of memory, as
+between one generation and another, a reflection of the many
+anomalies and exceptions to ordinary rules which we observe in
+memory, so far as we can watch its action in what we call our own
+single lives, and the single lives of others.  We should expect that
+reversion should be frequently capricious--that is to say, give us
+more trouble to account for than we are either able or willing to
+take.  And assuredly we find it so in fact.  Mr. Darwin--from whom it
+is impossible to quote too much or too fully, inasmuch as no one else
+can furnish such a store of facts, so well arranged, and so above all
+suspicion of either carelessness or want of candour--so that, however
+we may differ from him, it is he himself who shows us how to do so,
+and whose pupils we all are--Mr. Darwin writes:  "In every living
+being we may rest assured that a host of long-lost characters lie
+ready to be evolved under proper conditions" (does not one almost
+long to substitute the word "memories" for the word "characters?")
+"How can we make intelligible, and connect with other facts, this
+wonderful and common capacity of reversion--this power of calling
+back to life long-lost characters?"  ("Plants and Animals," &c., vol.
+ii. p. 369, ed. 1875).  Surely the answer may be hazarded, that we
+shall be able to do so when we can make intelligible the power of
+calling back to life long-lost memories.  But I grant that this
+answer holds out no immediate prospect of a clear understanding.
+
+One word more.  Abundant facts are to be found which point
+inevitably, as will appear more plainly in the following chapter, in
+the direction of thinking that offspring inherits the memories of its
+parents; but I know of no single fact which suggests that parents are
+in the smallest degree affected (other than sympathetically) by the
+memories of their offspring AFTER THAT OFFSPRING HAS BEEN BORN.
+Whether the unborn offspring affects the memory of the mother in some
+particulars, and whether we have here the explanation of occasional
+reversion to a previous impregnation, is a matter on which I should
+hardly like to express an opinion now.  Nor, again, can I find a
+single fact which seems to indicate any memory of the parental life
+on the part of offspring later than the average date of the
+offspring's quitting the body of the parent.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI--INSTINCT AS INHERITED MEMORY
+
+
+
+I have already alluded to M. Ribot's work on "Heredity," from which I
+will now take the following passages.
+
+M. Ribot writes:-
+
+"Instinct is innate, i.e., ANTERIOR TO ALL INDIVIDUAL EXPERIENCE."
+This I deny on grounds already abundantly apparent; but let it pass.
+"Whereas intelligence is developed slowly by accumulated experience,
+instinct is perfect from the first" ("Heredity," p. 14).
+
+Obviously the memory of a habit or experience will not commonly be
+transmitted to offspring in that perfection which is called
+"instinct," till the habit or experience has been repeated in several
+generations with more or less uniformity; for otherwise the
+impression made will not be strong enough to endure through the busy
+and difficult task of reproduction.  This of course involves that the
+habit shall have attained, as it were equilibrium with the creature's
+sense of its own needs, so that it shall have long seemed the best
+course possible, leaving upon the whole and under ordinary
+circumstances little further to be desired, and hence that it should
+have been little varied during many generations.  We should expect
+that it would be transmitted in a more or less partial, varying,
+imperfect, and intelligent condition before equilibrium had been
+attained; it would, however, continually tend towards equilibrium,
+for reasons which will appear more fully later on.
+
+When this stage has been reached, as regards any habit, the creature
+will cease trying to improve; on which the repetition of the habit
+will become stable, and hence become capable of more unerring
+transmission--but at the same time improvement will cease; the habit
+will become fixed, and be perhaps transmitted at an earlier and
+earlier age, till it has reached that date of manifestation which
+shall be found most agreeable to the other habits of the creature.
+It will also be manifested, as a matter of course, without further
+consciousness or reflection, for people cannot be always opening up
+settled questions; if they thought a matter over yesterday they
+cannot think it all over again to-day, but will adopt for better or
+worse the conclusion then reached; and this, too, even in spite
+sometimes of considerable misgiving, that if they were to think still
+further they could find a still better course.  It is not, therefore,
+to be expected that "instinct" should show signs of that hesitating
+and tentative action which results from knowledge that is still so
+imperfect as to be actively self-conscious; nor yet that it should
+grow or vary, unless under such changed conditions as shall baffle
+memory, and present the alternative of either invention--that is to
+say, variation--or death.  But every instinct must have poised
+through the laboriously intelligent stages through which human
+civilisations AND MECHANICAL INVENTIONS are now passing; and he who
+would study the origin of an instinct with its development, partial
+transmission, further growth, further transmission, approach to more
+unreflecting stability, and finally, its perfection as an unerring
+and unerringly transmitted instinct, must look to laws, customs, AND
+MACHINERY as his best instructors.  Customs and machines are
+instincts AND ORGANS now in process of development; they will
+assuredly one day reach the unconscious state of equilibrium which we
+observe in the structures and instincts of bees and ants, and an
+approach to which may be found among some savage nations.  We may
+reflect, however, not without pleasure, that this condition--the true
+millennium--is still distant.  Nevertheless the ants and bees seem
+happy; perhaps more happy than when so many social questions were in
+as hot discussion among them, as other, and not dissimilar ones, will
+one day be amongst ourselves.
+
+And this, as will be apparent, opens up the whole question of the
+stability of species, which we cannot follow further here, than to
+say, that according to the balance of testimony, many plants and
+animals do appear to have reached a phase of being from which they
+are hard to move--that is to say, they will die sooner than be at the
+pains of altering their habits--true martyrs to their convictions.
+Such races refuse to see changes in their surroundings as long as
+they can, but when compelled to recognise them, they throw up the
+game because they cannot and will not, or will not and cannot,
+invent.  And this is perfectly intelligible, for a race is nothing
+but a long-lived individual, and like any individual, or tribe of men
+whom we have yet observed, will have its special capacities and its
+special limitations, though, as in the case of the individual, so
+also with the race, it is exceedingly hard to say what those
+limitations are, and why, having been able to go so far, it should go
+no further.  Every man and every race is capable of education up to a
+certain point, but not to the extent of being made from a sow's ear
+into a silk purse.  The proximate cause of the limitation seems to
+lie in the absence of the wish to go further; the presence or absence
+of the wish will depend upon the nature and surroundings of the
+individual, which is simply a way of saying that one can get no
+further, but that as the song (with a slight alteration) says:-
+
+
+"Some breeds do, and some breeds don't,
+Some breeds will, but this breed won't,
+I tried very often to see if it would,
+But it said it really couldn't, and I don't think it could."
+
+
+It may perhaps be maintained, that with time and patience, one might
+train a rather stupid plough-boy to understand the differential
+calculus.  This might be done with the help of an inward desire on
+the part of the boy to learn, but never otherwise.  If the boy wants
+to learn or to improve generally, he will do so in spite of every
+hindrance, till in time he becomes a very different being from what
+he was originally.  If he does not want to learn, he will not do so
+for any wish of another person.  If he feels that he has the power he
+will wish; or if he wishes, he will begin to think he has the power,
+and try to fulfil his wishes; one cannot say which comes first, for
+the power and the desire go always hand in hand, or nearly so, and
+the whole business is nothing but a most vicious circle from first to
+last.  But it is plain that there is more to be said on behalf of
+such circles than we have been in the habit of thinking.  Do what we
+will, we must each one of us argue in a circle of our own, from
+which, so long as we live at all, we can by no possibility escape.  I
+am not sure whether the frank acceptation and recognition of this
+fact is not the best corrective for dogmatism that we are likely to
+find.
+
+We can understand that a pigeon might in the course of ages grow to
+be a peacock if there was a persistent desire on the part of the
+pigeon through all these ages to do so.  We know very well that this
+has not probably occurred in nature, inasmuch as no pigeon is at all
+likely to wish to be very different from what it is now.  The idea of
+being anything very different from what it now is, would be too wide
+a cross with the pigeon's other ideas for it to entertain it
+seriously.  If the pigeon had never seen a peacock, it would not be
+able to conceive the idea, so as to be able to make towards it; if,
+on the other hand, it had seen one, it would not probably either want
+to become one, or think that it would be any use wanting seriously,
+even though it were to feel a passing fancy to be so gorgeously
+arrayed; it would therefore lack that faith without which no action,
+and with which, every action, is possible.
+
+That creatures have conceived the idea of making themselves like
+other creatures or objects which it was to their advantage or
+pleasure to resemble, will be believed by any one who turns to Mr.
+Mivart's "Genesis of Species," where he will find (chapter ii.) an
+account of some very showy South American butterflies, which give out
+such a strong odour that nothing will eat them, and which are hence
+mimicked both in appearance and flight by a very different kind of
+butterfly; and, again, we see that certain birds, without any
+particular desire of gain, no sooner hear any sound than they begin
+to mimick it, merely for the pleasure of mimicking; so we all enjoy
+to mimick, or to hear good mimicry, so also monkeys imitate the
+actions which they observe, from pure force of sympathy.  To mimick,
+or to wish to mimick, is doubtless often one of the first steps
+towards varying in any given direction.  Not less, in all
+probability, than a full twenty per cent. of all the courage and good
+nature now existing in the world, derives its origin, at no very
+distant date, from a desire to appear courageous and good-natured.
+And this suggests a work whose title should be "On the Fine Arts as
+bearing on the Reproductive System," of which the title must suffice
+here.
+
+Against faith, then, and desire, all the "natural selection" in the
+world will not stop an amoeba from becoming an elephant, if a
+reasonable time be granted; without the faith and the desire, neither
+"natural selection" nor artificial breeding will be able to do much
+in the way of modifying any structure.  When we have once thoroughly
+grasped the conception that we are all one creature, and that each
+one of us is many millions of years old, so that all the pigeons in
+the one line of an infinite number of generations are still one
+pigeon only--then we can understand that a bird, as different from a
+peacock as a pigeon is now, could yet have wandered on and on, first
+this way and then that, doing what it liked, and thought that it
+could do, till it found itself at length a peacock; but we cannot
+believe either that a bird like a pigeon should be able to apprehend
+any ideal so different from itself as a peacock, and make towards it,
+or that man, having wished to breed a bird anything like a peacock
+from a bird anything like a pigeon, would be able to succeed in
+accumulating accidental peacock-like variations till he had made the
+bird he was in search of, no matter in what number of generations;
+much less can we believe that the accumulation of small fortuitous
+variations by "natural selection" could succeed better.  We can no
+more believe the above, than we can believe that a wish outside a
+plough-boy could turn him into a senior wrangler.  The boy would
+prove to be too many for his teacher, and so would the pigeon for its
+breeder.
+
+I do not forget that artificial breeding has modified the original
+type of the horse and the dog, till it has at length produced the
+dray-horse and the greyhound; but in each case man has had to get use
+and disuse--that is to say, the desires of the animal itself--to help
+him.
+
+We are led, then, to the conclusion that all races have what for
+practical purposes may be considered as their limits, though there is
+no saying what those limits are, nor indeed why, in theory, there
+should be any limits at all, but only that there are limits in
+practice.  Races which vary considerably must be considered as
+clever, but it may be speculative, people who commonly have a genius
+in some special direction, as perhaps for mimicry, perhaps for
+beauty, perhaps for music, perhaps for the higher mathematics, but
+seldom in more than one or two directions; while "inflexible
+organisations," like that of the goose, may be considered as
+belonging to people with one idea, and the greater tendency of plants
+and animals to vary under domestication may be reasonably compared
+with the effects of culture and education:  that is to say, may be
+referred to increased range and variety of experience or perceptions,
+which will either cause sterility, if they be too unfamiliar, so as
+to be incapable of fusion with preceding ideas, and hence to bring
+memory to a sudden fault, or will open the door for all manner of
+further variation--the new ideas having suggested new trains of
+thought, which a clever example of a clever race will be only too
+eager to pursue.
+
+Let us now return to M. Ribot.  He writes (p. 14):- "The duckling
+hatched by the hen makes straight for water."  In what conceivable
+way can we account for this, except on the supposition that the
+duckling knows perfectly well what it can, and what it cannot do with
+water, owing to its recollection of what it did when it was still one
+individuality with its parents, and hence, when it was a duckling
+before?
+
+"The squirrel, before it knows anything of winter, lays up a store of
+nuts.  A bird when hatched in a cage will, when given its freedom,
+build for itself a nest like that of its parents, out of the same
+materials, and of the same shape."
+
+If this is not due to memory, even an imperfect explanation of what
+else it can be due to, "would be satisfactory."
+
+"Intelligence gropes about, tries this way and that, misses its
+object, commits mistakes, and corrects them."
+
+Yes.  Because intelligence is of consciousness, and consciousness is
+of attention, and attention is of uncertainty, and uncertainty is of
+ignorance or want of consciousness.  Intelligence is not yet
+thoroughly up to its business.
+
+"Instinct advances with a mechanical certainty."
+
+Why mechanical?  Should not "with apparent certainty" suffice?
+
+"Hence comes its unconscious character."
+
+But for the word "mechanical" this is true, and is what we have been
+all along insisting on.
+
+"It knows nothing either of ends, or of the means of attaining them;
+it implies no comparison, judgment, or choice."
+
+This is assumption.  What is certain is that instinct does not betray
+signs of self-consciousness as to its own knowledge.  It has
+dismissed reference to first principles, and is no longer under the
+law, but under the grace of a settled conviction.
+
+"All seems directed by thought."
+
+Yes; because all HAS BEEN in earlier existences directed by thought.
+
+"Without ever arriving at thought."
+
+Because it has GOT PAST THOUGHT, and though "directed by thought"
+originally, is now travelling in exactly the opposite direction.  It
+is not likely to reach thought again, till people get to know worse
+and worse how to do things, the oftener they practise them.
+
+"And if this phenomenon appear strange, it must be observed that
+analogous states occur in ourselves.  ALL THAT WE DO FROM HABIT--
+WALKING, WRITING, OR PRACTISING A MECHANICAL ACT, FOR INSTANCE--ALL
+THESE AND MANY OTHER VERY COMPLEX ACTS ARE PERFORMED WITHOUT
+CONSCIOUSNESS.
+
+"Instinct appears stationary.  It does not, like intelligence, seem
+to grow and decay, to gain and to lose.  It does not improve."
+
+Naturally.  For improvement can only as a general rule be looked for
+along the line of latest development, that is to say, in matters
+concerning which the creature is being still consciously exercised.
+Older questions are settled, and the solution must be accepted as
+final, for the question of living at all would be reduced to an
+absurdity, if everything decided upon one day was to be undecided
+again the next; as with painting or music, so with life and politics,
+let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind, for decision with
+wrong will be commonly a better policy than indecision--I had almost
+added with right; and a firm purpose with risk will be better than an
+infirm one with temporary exemption from disaster.  Every race has
+made its great blunders, to which it has nevertheless adhered,
+inasmuch as the corresponding modification of other structures and
+instincts was found preferable to the revolution which would be
+caused by a radical change of structure, with consequent havoc among
+a legion of vested interests.  Rudimentary organs are, as has been
+often said, the survivals of these interests--the signs of their
+peaceful and gradual extinction as living faiths; they are also
+instances of the difficulty of breaking through any cant or trick
+which we have long practised, and which is not sufficiently
+troublesome to make it a serious object with us to cure ourselves of
+the habit.
+
+"If it does not remain perfectly invariable, at least it only varies
+within very narrow limits; and though this question has been warmly
+debated in our day, and is yet unsettled, we may yet say that in
+instinct immutability is the law, variation the exception."
+
+This is quite as it should be.  Genius will occasionally rise a
+little above convention, but with an old convention immutability will
+be the rule.
+
+"Such," continues M. Ribot, "are the admitted characters of
+instinct."
+
+Yes; but are they not also the admitted characters of actions that
+are due to memory?
+
+At the bottom of p. 15, M. Ribot quotes the following from Mr.
+Darwin:-
+
+"We have reason to believe that aboriginal habits are long retained
+under domestication.  Thus with the common ass, we see signs of its
+original desert-life in its strong dislike to cross the smallest
+stream of water, and in its pleasure in rolling in the dust.  The
+same strong dislike to cross a stream is common to the camel which
+has been domesticated from a very early period.  Young pigs, though
+so tame, sometimes squat when frightened, and then try to conceal
+themselves, even in an open and bare place.  Young turkeys, and
+occasionally even young fowls, when the hen gives the danger-cry, run
+away and try to hide themselves, like young partridges or pheasants,
+in order that their mother may take flight, of which she has lost the
+power.  The musk duck in its native country often perches and roosts
+on trees, and our domesticated musk ducks, though sluggish birds, are
+fond of perching on the tops of barns, walls, &c. . . .  We know that
+the dog, however well and regularly fed, often buries like the fox
+any superfluous food; we see him turning round and round on a carpet
+as if to trample down grass to form a bed. . . . In the delight with
+which lambs and kids crowd together and frisk upon the smallest
+hillock we see a vestige of their former alpine habits."
+
+What does this delightful passage go to show, if not that the young
+in all these cases must still have a latent memory of their past
+existences, which is called into an active condition as soon as the
+associated ideas present themselves?
+
+Returning to M. Ribot's own observations, we find he tells us that it
+usually requires three or four generations to fix the results of
+training, and to prevent a return to the instincts of the wild state.
+I think, however, it would not be presumptuous to suppose that if an
+animal after only three or four generations of training be restored
+to its original conditions of life, it will forget its intermediate
+training and return to its old ways, almost as readily as a London
+street Arab would forget the beneficial effects of a weeks training
+in a reformatory school, if he were then turned loose again on the
+streets.  So if we hatch wild ducks' eggs under a tame duck, the
+ducklings "will have scarce left the egg-shell when they obey the
+instincts of their race and take their flight."  So the colts from
+wild horses, and mongrel young between wild and domesticated horses,
+betray traces of their earlier memories.
+
+On this M. Ribot says:  "Originally man had considerable trouble in
+taming the animals which are now domesticated; and his work would
+have been in vain had not heredity" (memory) "come to his aid.  It
+may be said that after man has modified a wild animal to his will,
+there goes on in its progeny a silent conflict between two
+heredities" (memories), "the one tending to fix the acquired
+modifications and the other to preserve the primitive instincts.  The
+latter often get the mastery, and only after several generations is
+training sure of victory.  But we may see that in either case
+heredity" (memory) "always asserts its rights."
+
+How marvellously is the above passage elucidated and made to fit in
+with the results of our recognised experience, by the simple
+substitution of the word "memory" for "heredity."
+
+"Among the higher animals"--to continue quoting--"which are possessed
+not only of instinct, but also of intelligence, nothing is more
+common than to see mental dispositions, which have evidently been
+acquired, so fixed by heredity, that they are confounded with
+instinct, so spontaneous and automatic do they become.  Young
+pointers have been known to point the first time they were taken out,
+sometimes even better than dogs that had been for a long time in
+training.  The habit of saving life is hereditary in breeds that have
+been brought up to it, as is also the shepherd dog's habit of moving
+around the flock and guarding it."
+
+As soon as we have grasped the notion, that instinct is only the
+epitome of past experience, revised, corrected, made perfect, and
+learnt by rote, we no longer find any desire to separate "instinct"
+from "mental dispositions, which have evidently been acquired and
+fixed by heredity," for the simple reason that they are one and the
+same thing.
+
+A few more examples are all that my limits will allow--they abound on
+every side, and the difficulty lies only in selecting--M. Ribot being
+to hand, I will venture to lay him under still further contributions.
+
+On page 19 we find:- "Knight has shown experimentally the truth of
+the proverb, 'a good hound is bred so,' he took every care that when
+the pups were first taken into the field, they should receive no
+guidance from older dogs; yet the very first day, one of the pups
+stood trembling with anxiety, having his eyes fixed and all his
+muscles strained AT THE PARTRIDGES WHICH THEIR PARENTS HAD BEEN
+TRAINED TO POINT.  A spaniel belonging to a breed which had been
+trained to woodcock-shooting, knew perfectly well from the first how
+to act like an old dog, avoiding places where the ground was frozen,
+and where it was, therefore, useless to seek the game, as there was
+no scent.  Finally, a young polecat terrier was thrown into a state
+of great excitement the first time he ever saw one of these animals,
+while a spaniel remained perfectly calm.
+
+"In South America, according to Roulin, dogs belonging to a breed
+that has long been trained to the dangerous chase of the peccary,
+when taken for the first time into the woods, know the tactics to
+adopt quite as well as the old dogs, and that without any
+instruction.  Dogs of other races, and unacquainted with the tactics,
+are killed at once, no matter how strong they may be.  The American
+greyhound, instead of leaping at the stag, attacks him by the belly,
+and throws him over, as his ancestors had been trained to do in
+hunting the Indians.
+
+"Thus, then, heredity transmits modification no less than natural
+instincts."
+
+Should not this rather be--"thus, then, we see that not only older
+and remoter habits, but habits which have been practised for a
+comparatively small number of generations, may be so deeply impressed
+on the individual that they may dwell in his memory, surviving the
+so-called change of personality which he undergoes in each successive
+generation"?
+
+"There is, however, an important difference to be noted:  the
+heredity of instincts admits of no exceptions, while in that of
+modifications there are many."
+
+It may be well doubted how far the heredity of instincts admits of no
+exceptions; on the contrary, it would seem probable that in many
+races geniuses have from time to time arisen who remembered not only
+their past experiences, as far as action and habit went, but have
+been able to rise in some degree above habit where they felt that
+improvement was possible, and who carried such improvement into
+further practice, by slightly modifying their structure in the
+desired direction on the next occasion that they had a chance of
+dealing with protoplasm at all.  It is by these rare instances of
+intellectual genius (and I would add of moral genius, if many of the
+instincts and structures of plants and animals did not show that they
+had got into a region as far above morals--other than enlightened
+self-interest--as they are above articulate consciousness of their
+own aims in many other respects)--it is by these instances of either
+rare good luck or rare genius that many species have been, in all
+probability, originated or modified.  Nevertheless inappreciable
+modification of instinct is, and ought to be, the rule.
+
+As to M. Ribot's assertion, that to the heredity of modifications
+there are many exceptions, I readily agree with it, and can only say
+that it is exactly what I should expect; the lesson long since learnt
+by rote, and repeated in an infinite number of generations, would be
+repeated unintelligently, and with little or no difference, save from
+a rare accidental slip, the effect of which would be the culling out
+of the bungler who was guilty of it, or from the still rarer
+appearance of an individual of real genius; while the newer lesson
+would be repeated both with more hesitation and uncertainty, and with
+more intelligence; and this is well conveyed in M. Ribot's next
+sentence, for he says--"It is only when variations have been firmly
+rooted; when having become organic, they constitute a second nature,
+which supplants the first; when, like instinct, they have assumed a
+mechanical character, that they can be transmitted."
+
+How nearly M. Ribot comes to the opinion which I myself venture to
+propound will appear from the following further quotation.  After
+dealing with somnambulism, and saying, that if somnambulism were
+permanent and innate, it would be impossible to distinguish it from
+instinct, he continues:-
+
+"Hence it is less difficult than is generally supposed, to conceive
+how intelligence may become instinct; we might even say that, leaving
+out of consideration the character of innateness, to which we will
+return, we have seen the metamorphosis take place.  THERE CAN THEN BE
+NO GROUND FOR MAKING INSTINCT A FACULTY APART, sui generis, a
+phenomenon so mysterious, so strange, that usually no other
+explanation of it is offered but that of attributing it to the direct
+act of the Deity.  This whole mistake is the result of a defective
+psychology which makes no account of the unconscious activity of the
+soul."
+
+We are tempted to add--"and which also makes no account of the bona
+fide character of the continued personality of successive
+generations."
+
+"But we are so accustomed," he continues, "to contrast the characters
+of instinct with those of intelligence--to say that instinct is
+innate, invariable, automatic, while intelligence is something
+acquired, variable, spontaneous--that it looks at first paradoxical
+to assert that instinct and intelligence are identical.
+
+"It is said that instinct is innate.  But if, on the one hand, we
+bear in mind that many instincts are acquired, and that, according to
+a theory hereafter to be explained" (which theory, I frankly confess,
+I never was able to get hold of), "ALL INSTINCTS ARE ONLY HEREDITARY
+HABITS" (italics mine); "if, on the other hand, we observe that
+intelligence is in some sense held to be innate by all modern schools
+of philosophy, which agree to reject the theory of the tabula rasa"
+(if there is no tabula rasa, there is continued psychological
+personality, or words have lost their meaning), "and to accept either
+latent ideas, or a priori forms of thought" (surely only a
+periphrasis for continued personality and memory) "or pre-ordination
+of the nervous system and of the organism; IT WILL BE SEEN THAT THIS
+CHARACTER OF INNATENESS DOES NOT CONSTITUTE AN ABSOLUTE DISTINCTION
+BETWEEN INSTINCT AND INTELLIGENCE.
+
+"It is true that intelligence is variable, but so also is instinct,
+as we have seen.  In winter, the Rhine beaver plasters his wall to
+windward; once he was a builder, now a burrower; once he lived in
+society, now he is solitary.  Intelligence itself can scarcely be
+more variable . . . instinct may be modified, lost, reawakened.
+
+"Although intelligence is, as a rule, conscious, it may also become
+unconscious and automatic, without losing its identity.  Neither is
+instinct always so blind, so mechanical, as is supposed, for at times
+it is at fault.  The wasp that has faultily trimmed a leaf of its
+paper begins again.  The bee only gives the hexagonal form to its
+cell after many attempts and alterations.  It is difficult to believe
+that the loftier instincts" (and surely, then, the more recent
+instincts) "of the higher animals are not accompanied BY AT LEAST A
+CONFUSED CONSCIOUSNESS.  There is, therefore, no absolute distinction
+between instinct and intelligence; there is not a single
+characteristic which, seriously considered, remains the exclusive
+property of either.  The contrast established between instinctive
+acts and intellectual acts is, nevertheless, perfectly true, but only
+when we compare the extremes.  AS INSTINCT RISES IT APPROACHES
+INTELLIGENCE--AS INTELLIGENCE DESCENDS IT APPROACHES INSTINCT."
+
+M. Ribot and myself (if I may venture to say so) are continually on
+the verge of coming to an understanding, when, at the very moment
+that we seem most likely to do so, we fly, as it were, to opposite
+poles.  Surely the passage last quoted should be, "As instinct
+falls," i.e., becomes less and less certain of its ground, "it
+approaches intelligence; as intelligence rises," i.e., becomes more
+and more convinced of the truth and expediency of its convictions--
+"it approaches instinct."
+
+Enough has been said to show that the opinions which I am advancing
+are not new, but I have looked in vain for the conclusions which, it
+appears to me, M. Ribot should draw from his facts; throughout his
+interesting book I find the facts which it would seem should have
+guided him to the conclusions, and sometimes almost the conclusions
+themselves, but he never seems quite to have reached them, nor has he
+arranged his facts so that others are likely to deduce them, unless
+they had already arrived at them by another road.  I cannot, however,
+sufficiently express my obligations to M. Ribot.
+
+I cannot refrain from bringing forward a few more instances of what I
+think must be considered by every reader as hereditary memory.
+Sydney Smith writes:-
+
+"Sir James Hall hatched some chickens in an oven.  Within a few
+minutes after the shell was broken, a spider was turned loose before
+this very youthful brood; the destroyer of flies had hardly proceeded
+more than a few inches, before he was descried by one of these oven-
+born chickens, and, at one peck of his bill, immediately devoured.
+This certainly was not imitation.  A female goat very near delivery
+died; Galen cut out the young kid, and placed before it a bundle of
+hay, a bunch of fruit, and a pan of milk; the young kid smelt to them
+all very attentively, and then began to lap the milk.  This was not
+imitation.  And what is commonly and rightly called instinct, cannot
+be explained away, under the notion of its being imitation" (Lecture
+xvii. on Moral Philosophy).
+
+It cannot, indeed, be explained away under the notion of its being
+imitation, but I think it may well be so under that of its being
+memory.
+
+Again, a little further on in the same lecture, as that above quoted
+from, we find:-
+
+"Ants and beavers lay up magazines.  Where do they get their
+knowledge that it will not be so easy to collect food in rainy
+weather, as it is in summer?  Men and women know these things,
+because their grandpapas and grandmammas have told them so.  Ants
+hatched from the egg artificially, or birds hatched in this manner,
+have all this knowledge by intuition, without the smallest
+communication with any of their relations.  Now observe what the
+solitary wasp does; she digs several holes in the sand, in each of
+which she deposits an egg, though she certainly knows not (?) that an
+animal is deposited in that egg, and still less that this animal must
+be nourished with other animals.  She collects a few green flies,
+rolls them up neatly in several parcels (like Bologna sausages), and
+stuffs one parcel into each hole where an egg is deposited.  When the
+wasp worm is hatched, it finds a store of provision ready made; and
+what is most curious, the quantity allotted to each is exactly
+sufficient to support it, till it attains the period of wasphood, and
+can provide for itself.  This instinct of the parent wasp is the more
+remarkable as it does not feed upon flesh itself.  Here the little
+creature has never seen its parent; for by the time it is born, the
+parent is always eaten by sparrows; and yet, without the slightest
+education, or previous experience, it does everything that the parent
+did before it.  Now the objectors to the doctrine of instinct may say
+what they please, but young tailors have no intuitive method of
+making pantaloons; a new-born mercer cannot measure diaper; nature
+teaches a cook's daughter nothing about sippets.  All these things
+require with us seven years' apprenticeship; but insects are like
+Moliere's persons of quality--they know everything (as Moliere says),
+without having learnt anything.  'Les gens de qualite savent tout,
+sans avoir rien appris.'"
+
+How completely all difficulty vanishes from the facts so pleasantly
+told in this passage when we bear in mind the true nature of personal
+identity, the ordinary working of memory, and the vanishing tendency
+of consciousness concerning what we know exceedingly well.
+
+My last instance I take from M. Ribot, who writes:- "Gratiolet, in
+his Anatomie Comparee du Systeme Nerveux, states that an old piece of
+wolf's skin, with the hair all worn away, when set before a little
+dog, threw the animal into convulsions of fear by the slight scent
+attaching to it.  The dog had never seen a wolf, and we can only
+explain this alarm by the hereditary transmission of certain
+sentiments, coupled with a certain perception of the sense of smell"
+("Heredity," p. 43).
+
+I should prefer to say "we can only explain the alarm by supposing
+that the smell of the wolf's skin"--the sense of smell being, as we
+all know, more powerful to recall the ideas that have been associated
+with it than any other sense--"brought up the ideas with which it had
+been associated in the dog's mind during many previous existences"--
+he on smelling the wolf's skin remembering all about wolves perfectly
+well.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII--INSTINCTS OF NEUTER INSECTS
+
+
+
+In this chapter I will consider, as briefly as possible, the
+strongest argument that I have been able to discover against the
+supposition that instinct is chiefly due to habit.  I have said "the
+strongest argument;" I should have said, the only argument that
+struck me as offering on the face of it serious difficulties.
+
+Turning, then, to Mr. Darwin's chapter on instinct ("Natural
+Selection," ed. 1876, p. 205), we find substantially much the same
+views as those taken at a later date by M. Ribot, and referred to in
+the preceding chapter.  Mr. Darwin writes:-
+
+"An action, which we ourselves require experience to enable us to
+perform, when performed by an animal, more especially a very young
+one, without experience, and when performed by many animals in the
+same way without their knowing for what purpose it is performed, is
+usually said to be instinctive."
+
+The above should strictly be, "without their being conscious of their
+own knowledge concerning the purpose for which they act as they do;"
+and though some may say that the two phrases come to the same thing,
+I think there is an important difference, as what I propose
+distinguishes ignorance from over-familiarity, both which states are
+alike unself-conscious, though with widely different results.
+
+"But I could show," continues Mr. Darwin, "that none of these
+characters are universal.  A little dose of judgement or reason, as
+Pierre Huber expresses it, often comes into play even with animals
+low in the scale of nature.
+
+"Frederick Cuvier and several of the older metaphysicians have
+compared instinct with habit."
+
+I would go further and would say, that instinct, in the great
+majority of cases, is habit pure and simple, contracted originally by
+some one or more individuals; practised, probably, in a consciously
+intelligent manner during many successive lives, until the habit has
+acquired the highest perfection which the circumstances admitted;
+and, finally, so deeply impressed upon the memory as to survive that
+effacement of minor impressions which generally takes place in every
+fresh life-wave or generation.
+
+I would say, that unless the identity of offspring with their parents
+be so far admitted that the children be allowed to remember the
+deeper impressions engraved on the minds of those who begot them, it
+is little less than trilling to talk, as so many writers do, about
+inherited habit, or the experience of the race, or, indeed,
+accumulated variations of instincts.
+
+When an instinct is not habit, as resulting from memory pure and
+simple, it is habit modified by some treatment, generally in the
+youth or embryonic stages of the individual, which disturbs his
+memory, and drives him on to some unusual course, inasmuch as he
+cannot recognise and remember his usual one by reason of the change
+now made in it.  Habits and instincts, again, may be modified by any
+important change in the condition of the parents, which will then
+both affect the parent's sense of his own identity, and also create
+more or less fault, or dislocation of memory, in the offspring
+immediately behind the memory of his last life.  Change of food may
+at times be sufficient to create a specific modification--that is to
+say, to affect all the individuals whose food is so changed, in one
+and the same way--whether as regards structure or habit.  Thus we see
+that certain changes in food (and domicile), from those with which
+its ancestors have been familiar, will disturb the memory of a queen
+bee's egg, and set it at such disadvantage as to make it make itself
+into a neuter bee; but yet we find that the larva thus partly aborted
+may have its memories restored to it, if not already too much
+disturbed, and may thus return to its condition as a queen bee, if it
+only again be restored to the food and domicile, which its past
+memories can alone remember.
+
+So we see that opium, tobacco, alcohol, hasheesh, and tea produce
+certain effects upon our own structure and instincts.  But though
+capable of modification, and of specific modification, which may in
+time become inherited, and hence resolve itself into a true instinct
+or settled question, yet I maintain that the main bulk of the
+instinct (whether as affecting structure or habits of life) will be
+derived from memory pure and simple; the individual growing up in the
+shape he does, and liking to do this or that when he is grown up,
+simply from recollection of what he did last time, and of what on the
+whole suited him.
+
+For it must be remembered that a drug which should destroy some one
+part at an early embryonic stage, and thus prevent it from
+development, would prevent the creature from recognising the
+surroundings which affected that part when he was last alive and
+unmutilated, as being the same as his present surroundings.  He would
+be puzzled, for he would be viewing the position from a different
+standpoint.  If any important item in a number of associated ideas
+disappears, the plot fails; and a great internal change is an
+exceedingly important item.  Life and things to a creature so treated
+at an early embryonic stage would not be life and things as he last
+remembered them; hence he would not be able to do the same now as he
+did then; that is to say, he would vary both in structure and
+instinct; but if the creature were tolerably uniform to start with,
+and were treated in a tolerably uniform way, we might expect the
+effect produced to be much the same in all ordinary cases.
+
+We see, also, that any important change in treatment and
+surroundings, if not sufficient to kill, would and does tend to
+produce not only variability but sterility, as part of the same story
+and for the same reason--namely, default of memory; this default will
+be of every degree of intensity, from total failure, to a slight
+disturbance of memory as affecting some one particular organ only;
+that is to say, from total sterility, to a slight variation in an
+unimportant part.  So that even THE SLIGHTEST CONCEIVABLE VARIATIONS
+SHOULD BE REFERRED TO CHANGED CONDITIONS, EXTERNAL OR INTERNAL, AND
+TO THEIR DISTURBING EFFECTS UPON THE MEMORY; and sterility, without
+any apparent disease of the reproductive system, may be referred not
+so much to special delicacy or susceptibility of the organs of
+reproduction as to inability on the part of the creature to know
+where it is, and to recognise itself as the same creature which it
+has been accustomed to reproduce.
+
+Mr. Darwin thinks that the comparison of habit with instinct gives
+"an accurate notion of the frame of mind under which an instinctive
+action is performed, but not," he thinks, "of its origin."
+
+"How unconsciously," Mr. Darwin continues, "many habitual actions are
+performed, indeed not rarely in direct opposition to our conscious
+will!  Yet they may be modified by the will or by reason.  Habits
+easily become associated with other habits, with certain periods of
+time and states of body.  When once acquired, they often remain
+constant throughout life.  Several other points of resemblance
+between instincts and habits could be pointed out.  As in repeating a
+well-known song, so in instincts, one action follows another by a
+sort of rhythm.  If a person be interrupted in a song or in repeating
+anything by rote, he is generally forced to go back to recover the
+habitual train of thought; so P. Huber found it was with a
+caterpillar, which makes a very complicated hammock.  For if he took
+a caterpillar which had completed its hammock up to, say, the sixth
+stage of construction, and put it into a hammock completed up only to
+the third stage, the caterpillar simply re-performed the fourth,
+fifth, and sixth stages of construction.  If, however, a caterpillar
+were taken out of a hammock made up, for instance, to the third
+stage, and were put into one finished up to the sixth stage, so that
+much of its work was already done for it, far from deriving any
+benefit from this, it was much embarrassed, and in order to complete
+its hammock, seemed forced to start from the third stage, where it
+had left off, and thus tried to complete the already finished work."
+
+I see I must have unconsciously taken my first chapter from this
+passage, but it is immaterial.  I owe Mr. Darwin much more than this.
+I owe it to him that I believe in evolution at all.  I owe him for
+almost all the facts which have led me to differ from him, and which
+I feel absolutely safe in taking for granted, if he has advanced
+them.  Nevertheless, I believe that the conclusion arrived at in the
+passage which I will next quote is a mistaken one, and that not a
+little only, but fundamentally.  I shall therefore venture to dispute
+it.
+
+The passage runs:-
+
+"If we suppose any habitual action to become inherited--and 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 A SERIOUS ERROR TO SUPPOSE
+THAT THE GREATER NUMBER OF INSTINCTS HAVE BEEN ACQUIRED BY HABIT IN
+ONE GENERATION, AND THEN TRANSMITTED BY INHERITANCE TO SUCCEEDING
+GENERATIONS.  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 ACQUIRED BY HABIT."
+("Origin of Species," p. 206, ed. 1876.)  The italics in this passage
+are mine.
+
+No difficulty is opposed to my view (as I call it, for the sake of
+brevity) by such an instinct as that of ants to milk aphids.  Such
+instincts may be supposed to have been acquired in much the same way
+as the instinct of a farmer to keep a cow.  Accidental discovery of
+the fact that the excretion was good, with "a little dose of
+judgement or reason" from time to time appearing in an exceptionally
+clever ant, and by him communicated to his fellows, till the habit
+was so confirmed as to be capable of transmission in full unself-
+consciousness (if indeed the instinct be unself-conscious in this
+case), would, I think, explain this as readily as the slow and
+gradual accumulations of instincts which had never passed through the
+intelligent and self-conscious stage, but had always prompted action
+without any idea of a why or a wherefore on the part of the creature
+itself.
+
+For it must be remembered, as I am afraid I have already perhaps too
+often said, that even when we have got a slight variation of
+instinct, due to some cause which we know nothing about, but which I
+will not even for a moment call "spontaneous"--a word that should be
+cut out of every dictionary, or in some way branded as perhaps the
+most misleading in the language--we cannot see how it comes to be
+repeated in successive generations, so as to be capable of being
+acted upon by "natural selection" and accumulated, unless it be also
+capable of being remembered by the offspring of the varying creature.
+It may be answered that we cannot know anything about this, but that
+"like father like son" is an ultimate fact in nature.  I can only
+answer that I never observe any "like father like son" without the
+son's both having had every opportunity of remembering, and showing
+every symptom of having remembered, in which case I decline to go
+further than memory (whatever memory may be) as the cause of the
+phenomenon.
+
+But besides inheritance, teaching must be admitted as a means of at
+any rate modifying an instinct.  We observe this in our own case; and
+we know that animals have great powers of communicating their ideas
+to one another, though their manner of doing this is as
+incomprehensible by us as a plant's knowledge of chemistry, or the
+manner in which an amoeba makes its test, or a spider its web,
+without having gone through a long course of mathematics.  I think
+most readers will allow that our early training and the theological
+systems of the last eighteen hundred years are likely to have made us
+involuntarily under-estimate the powers of animals low in the scale
+of life, both as regards intelligence and the power of communicating
+their ideas to one another; but even now we admit that ants have
+great powers in this respect.
+
+A habit, however, which is taught to the young or each successive
+generation, by older members of the community who have themselves
+received it by instruction, should surely rank as an inherited habit,
+and be considered as due to memory, though personal teaching be
+necessary to complete the inheritance.
+
+An objection suggests itself that if such a habit as the flight of
+birds, which seems to require a little personal supervision and
+instruction before it is acquired perfectly, were really due to
+memory, the need of instruction would after a time cease, inasmuch as
+the creature would remember its past method of procedure, and would
+thus come to need no more teaching.  The answer lies in the fact,
+that if a creature gets to depend upon teaching and personal help for
+any matter, its memory will make it look for such help on each
+repetition of the action; so we see that no man's memory will exert
+itself much until he is thrown upon memory as his only resource.  We
+may read a page of a book a hundred times, but we do not remember it
+by heart unless we have either cultivated our powers of learning to
+repeat, or have taken pains to learn this particular page.
+
+And whether we read from a book, or whether we repeat by heart, the
+repetition is still due to memory; only in the one case the memory is
+exerted to recall something which one saw only half a second ago, and
+in the other, to recall something not seen for a much longer period.
+So I imagine an instinct or habit may be called an inherited habit,
+and assigned to memory, even though the memory dates, not from the
+performance of the action by the learner when he was actually part of
+the personality of the teacher, but rather from a performance
+witnessed by, or explained by the teacher to, the pupil at a period
+subsequent to birth.  In either case the habit is inherited in the
+sense of being acquired in one generation, and transmitted with such
+modifications as genius and experience may have suggested.
+
+Mr. Darwin would probably admit this without hesitation; when,
+therefore, he says that certain instincts could not possibly have
+been acquired by habit, he must mean that they could not, under the
+circumstances, have been remembered by the pupil in the person of the
+teacher, and that it would be a serious error to suppose that the
+greater number of instincts can be thus remembered.  To which I
+assent readily so far as that it is difficult (though not impossible)
+to see how some of the most wonderful instincts of neuter ants and
+bees can be due to the fact that the neuter ant or bee was ever in
+part, or in some respects, another neuter ant or bee in a previous
+generation.  At the same time I maintain that this does not militate
+against the supposition that both instinct and structure are in the
+main due to memory.  For the power of receiving any communication,
+and acting on it, is due to memory; and the neuter ant or bee may
+have received its lesson from another neuter ant or bee, who had it
+from another and modified it; and so back and back, till the
+foundation of the habit is reached, and is found to present little
+more than the faintest family likeness to its more complex
+descendant.  Surely Mr. Darwin cannot mean that it can be shewn that
+the wonderful instincts of neuter ants and bees cannot have been
+acquired either, as above, by instruction, or by some not immediately
+obvious form of inherited transmission, but that they must be due to
+the fact that the ant or bee is, as it were, such and such a machine,
+of which if you touch such and such a spring, you will get a
+corresponding action.  If he does, he will find, so far as I can see,
+no escape from a position very similar to the one which I put into
+the mouth of the first of the two professors, who dealt with the
+question of machinery in my earlier work, "Erewhon," and which I have
+since found that my great namesake made fun of in the following
+lines:-
+
+
+. . . "They now begun
+To spur their living engines on.
+For as whipped tops and bandy'd balls,
+The learned hold are animals:
+So horses they affirm to be
+Mere engines made by geometry,
+And were invented first from engines
+As Indian Britons were from Penguins."
+--Hudibras, Canto ii. line 53, &c.
+
+
+I can see, then, no difficulty in the development of the ordinary so-
+called instincts, whether of ants or bees, or the cuckoo, or any
+other animal, on the supposition that they were, for the most part,
+intelligently acquired with more or less labour, as the case may be,
+in much the same way as we see any art or science now in process of
+acquisition among ourselves, but were ultimately remembered by
+offspring, or communicated to it.  When the limits of the race's
+capacity had been attained (and most races seem to have their limits,
+unsatisfactory though the expression may very fairly be considered),
+or when the creature had got into a condition, so to speak, of
+equilibrium with its surroundings, there would be no new development
+of instincts, and the old ones would cease to be improved, inasmuch
+as there would be no more reasoning or difference of opinion
+concerning them.  The race, therefore, or species would remain in
+statu quo till either domesticated, and so brought into contact with
+new ideas and placed in changed conditions, or put under such
+pressure, in a wild state, as should force it to further invention,
+or extinguish it if incapable of rising to the occasion.  That
+instinct and structure may be acquired by practice in one or more
+generations, and remembered in succeeding ones, is admitted by Mr.
+Darwin, for he allows ("Origin of Species," p. 206) that habitual
+action does sometimes become inherited, and, though he does not seem
+to conceive of such action as due to memory, yet it is inconceivable
+how it is inherited, if not as the result of memory.
+
+It must be admitted, however, that when we come to consider the
+structures as well as the instincts of some of the neuter insects,
+our difficulties seem greatly increased.  The neuter hive-bees have a
+cavity in their thighs in which to keep the wax, which it is their
+business to collect; but the drones and queen, which alone bear
+offspring, collect no wax, and therefore neither want, nor have, any
+such cavity.  The neuter bees are also, if I understand rightly,
+furnished with a proboscis or trunk for extracting honey from
+flowers, whereas the fertile bees, who gather no honey, have no such
+proboscis.  Imagine, if the reader will, that the neuter bees differ
+still more widely from the fertile ones; how, then, can they in any
+sense be said to derive organs from their parents, which not one of
+their parents for millions of generations has ever had?  How, again,
+can it be supposed that they transmit these organs to the future
+neuter members of the community when they are perfectly sterile?
+
+One can understand that the young neuter bee might be taught to make
+a hexagonal cell (though I have not found that any one has seen the
+lesson being given) inasmuch as it does not make the cell till after
+birth, and till after it has seen other neuter bees who might tell it
+much in, qua us, a very little time; but we can hardly understand its
+growing a proboscis before it could possibly want it, or preparing a
+cavity in its thigh, to have it ready to put wax into, when none of
+its predecessors had ever done so, by supposing oral communication,
+during the larvahood.  Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that
+bees seem to know secrets about reproduction, which utterly baffle
+ourselves; for example, the queen bee appears to know how to deposit
+male or female, eggs at will; and this is a matter of almost
+inconceivable sociological importance, denoting a corresponding
+amount of sociological and physiological knowledge generally.  It
+should not, then, surprise us if the race should possess other
+secrets, whose working we are unable to follow, or even detect at
+all.
+
+Sydney Smith, indeed, writes:-
+
+"The warmest admirers of honey, and the greatest friends to bees,
+will never, I presume, contend that the young swarm, who begin making
+honey three or four months after they are born, and immediately
+construct these mathematical cells, should have gained their
+geometrical knowledge as we gain ours, and in three months' time
+outstrip Mr. Maclaurin in mathematics as much as they did in making
+honey.  It would take a senior wrangler at Cambridge ten hours a day
+for three years together to know enough mathematics for the
+calculation of these problems, with which not only every queen bee,
+but every undergraduate grub, is acquainted the moment it is born."
+This last statement may be a little too strong, but it will at once
+occur to the reader, that as we know the bees DO surpass Mr.
+Maclaurin in the power of making honey, they may also surpass him in
+capacity for those branches of mathematics with which it has been
+their business to be conversant during many millions of years, and
+also in knowledge of physiology and psychology in so far as the
+knowledge bears upon the interests of their own community.
+
+We know that the larva which develops into a neuter bee, and that
+again which in time becomes a queen bee, are the same kind of larva
+to start with; and that if you give one of these larvae the food and
+treatment which all its foremothers have been accustomed to, it will
+turn out with all the structure and instincts of its foremothers--and
+that it only fails to do this because it has been fed, and otherwise
+treated, in such a manner as not one of its foremothers was ever yet
+fed or treated.  So far, this is exactly what we should expect, on
+the view that structure and instinct are alike mainly due to memory,
+or to medicined memory.  Give the larva a fair chance of knowing
+where it is, and it shows that it remembers by doing exactly what it
+did before.  Give it a different kind of food and house, and it
+cannot be expected to be anything else than puzzled.  It remembers a
+great deal.  It comes out a bee, and nothing but a bee; but it is an
+aborted bee; it is, in fact, mutilated before birth instead of after-
+-with instinct, as well as growth, correlated to its abortion, as we
+see happens frequently in the case of animals a good deal higher than
+bees that have been mutilated at a stage much later than that at
+which the abortion of neuter bees commences.
+
+The larvae being similar to start with, and being similarly
+mutilated--i.e., by change of food and dwelling, will naturally
+exhibit much similarity of instinct and structure on arriving at
+maturity.  When driven from their usual course, they must take SOME
+new course or die.  There is nothing strange in the fact that similar
+beings puzzled similarly should take a similar line of action.  I
+grant, however, that it is hard to see how change of food and
+treatment can puzzle an insect into such "complex growth" as that it
+should make a cavity in its thigh, grow an invaluable proboscis, and
+betray a practical knowledge of difficult mathematical problems.
+
+But it must be remembered that the memory of having been queen bees
+and drones--which is all that according to my supposition the larvae
+can remember, (on a first view of the case), in their own proper
+persons--would nevertheless carry with it a potential recollection of
+all the social arrangements of the hive.  They would thus potentially
+remember that the mass of the bees were always neuter bees; they
+would remember potentially the habits of these bees, so far as drones
+and queens know anything about them; and this may be supposed to be a
+very thorough acquaintance; in like manner, and with the same
+limitation, they would know from the very moment that they left the
+queen's body that neuter bees had a proboscis to gather honey with,
+and cavities in their thighs to put wax into, and that cells were to
+be made with certain angles--for surely it is not crediting the queen
+with more knowledge than she is likely to possess, if we suppose her
+to have a fair acquaintance with the phenomena of wax and cells
+generally, even though she does not make any; they would know (while
+still larvae--and earlier) the kind of cells into which neuter bees
+were commonly put, and the kind of treatment they commonly received--
+they might therefore, as eggs--immediately on finding their
+recollection driven from its usual course, so that they must either
+find some other course, or die--know that they were being treated as
+neuter bees are treated, and that they were expected to develop into
+neuter bees accordingly; they might know all this, and a great deal
+more into the bargain, inasmuch as even before being actually
+deposited as eggs they would know and remember potentially, but
+unconsciously, all that their parents knew and remembered intensely.
+Is it, then, astonishing that they should adapt themselves so readily
+to the position which they know it is for the social welfare of the
+community, and hence of themselves, that they should occupy, and that
+they should know that they will want a cavity in their thighs and a
+proboscis, and hence make such implements out of their protoplasm as
+readily as they make their wings?
+
+I admit that, under normal treatment, none of the above-mentioned
+potential memories would be kindled into such a state of activity
+that action would follow upon them, until the creature had attained a
+more or less similar condition to that in which its parent was when
+these memories were active within its mind:  but the essence of the
+matter is, that these larvae have been treated ABNORMALLY, so that if
+they do not die, there is nothing for it but that they must vary.
+One cannot argue from the normal to the abnormal.  It would not,
+then, be strange if the potential memories should (owing to the
+margin for premature or tardy development which association admits)
+serve to give the puzzled larvae a hint as to the course which they
+had better take, or that, at any rate, it should greatly supplement
+the instruction of the "nurse" bees themselves by rendering the
+larvae so, as it were, inflammable on this point, that a spark should
+set them in a blaze.  Abortion is generally premature.  Thus the
+scars referred to in the last chapter as having appeared on the
+children of men who had been correspondingly wounded, should not,
+under normal circumstances, have appeared in the offspring till the
+children had got fairly near the same condition generally as that in
+which their fathers were when they were wounded, and even then,
+normally, there should have been an instrument to wound them, much as
+their fathers had been wounded.  Association, however, does not
+always stick to the letter of its bond.
+
+The line, again, might certainly be taken that the difference in
+structure and instincts between neuter and fertile bees is due to the
+specific effects of certain food and treatment; yet, though one would
+be sorry to set limits to the convertibility of food and genius, it
+seems hard to believe that there can be any untutored food which
+should teach a bee to make a hexagonal cell as soon as it was born,
+or which, before it was born, should teach it to prepare such
+structures as it would require in after life.  If, then, food be
+considered as a direct agent in causing the structures and instinct,
+and not an indirect agent, merely indicating to the larva itself that
+it is to make itself after the fashion of neuter bees, then we should
+bear in mind that, at any rate, it has been leavened and prepared in
+the stomachs of those neuter bees into which the larva is now
+expected to develop itself, and may thus have in it more true
+germinative matter--gemmules, in fact--than is commonly supposed.
+Food, when sufficiently assimilated (the whole question turning upon
+what IS "sufficiently"), becomes stored with all the experience and
+memories of the assimilating creature; corn becomes hen, and knows
+nothing but hen, when hen has eaten it.  We know also that the neuter
+working-bees inject matter into the cell after the larva has been
+produced; nor would it seem harsh to suppose that though devoid of a
+reproductive system like that of their parents, they may yet be
+practically not so neuter as is commonly believed.  One cannot say
+what gemmules of thigh and proboscis may not have got into the
+neutral bees' stomachs, if they assimilate their food sufficiently,
+and thus into the larva.
+
+Mr. Darwin will be the first to admit that though a creature have no
+reproductive system, in any ordinary sense of the word, yet every
+unit or cell of its body may throw off gemmules which may be free to
+move over every part of the whole organism, and which "natural
+selection" might in time cause to stray into food which had been
+sufficiently prepared in the stomachs of the neuter bees.
+
+I cannot say, then, precisely in what way, but I can see no reason
+for doubting that in some of the ways suggested above, or in some
+combination of them, the phenomena of the instincts of neuter ants
+and bees can be brought into the same category as the instincts and
+structure of fertile animals.  At any rate, I see the great fact that
+when treated as they have been accustomed to be treated, these
+neuters act as though they remembered, and accordingly become queen
+bees; and that they only depart from their ancestral course on being
+treated in such fashion as their ancestors can never have remembered;
+also, that when they have been thrown off their accustomed line of
+thought and action, they only take that of their nurses, who have
+been about them from the moment of their being deposited as eggs by
+the queen bee, who have fed them from their own bodies, and between
+whom and them there may have been all manner of physical and mental
+communication, of which we know no more than we do of the power which
+enables a bee to find its way home after infinite shifting and
+turning among flowers, which no human powers could systematise so as
+to avoid confusion.
+
+Or take it thus:  We know that mutilation at an early age produces an
+effect upon the structure and instincts of cattle, sheep, and horses;
+and it might be presumed that if feasible at an earlier age, it would
+produce a still more marked effect.  We observe that the effect
+produced is uniform, or nearly so.  Suppose mutilation to produce a
+little more effect than it does, as we might easily do, if cattle,
+sheep, and horses had been for ages accustomed to a mutilated class
+living among them, which class had been always a caste apart, and had
+fed the young neuters from their own bodies, from an early embryonic
+stage onwards; would any one in this case dream of advancing the
+structure and instincts of this mutilated class against the doctrine
+that instinct is inherited habit?  Or, if inclined to do this, would
+he not at once refrain, on remembering that the process of mutilation
+might be arrested, and the embryo be developed into an entire animal
+by simply treating it in the way to which all its ancestors had been
+accustomed?  Surely he would not allow the difficulty (which I must
+admit in some measure to remain) to outweigh the evidence derivable
+from these very neuter insects themselves, as well as from such a
+vast number of other sources--all pointing in the direction of
+instinct as inherited habit. {5}
+
+Lastly, it must be remembered that the instinct to make cells and
+honey is one which has no very great hold upon its possessors.  Bees
+CAN make cells and honey, nor do they seem to have any very violent
+objection to doing so; but it is quite clear that there is nothing in
+their structure and instincts which urges them on to do these things
+for the mere love of doing them, as a hen is urged to sit upon a
+chalk stone, concerning which she probably is at heart utterly
+sceptical, rather than not sit at all.  There is no honey and cell-
+making instinct so strong as the instinct to eat, if they are hungry,
+or to grow wings, and make themselves into bees at all.  Like
+ourselves, so long as they can get plenty to eat and drink, they will
+do no work.  Under these circumstances, not one drop of honey nor one
+particle of wax will they collect, except, I presume, to make cells
+for the rearing of their young.
+
+Sydney Smith writes:-
+
+"The most curious instance of a change of instinct is recorded by
+Darwin.  The bees carried over to Barbadoes and the Western Isles
+ceased to lay up any honey after the first year, as they found it not
+useful to them.  They found the weather so fine, and materials for
+making honey so plentiful, that they quitted their grave, prudent,
+and mercantile character, became exceedingly profligate and
+debauched, ate up their capital, resolved to work no more, and amused
+themselves by flying about the sugar-houses and stinging the blacks"
+(Lecture XVII. on Moral Philosophy).  The ease, then, with which the
+honey-gathering and cell-making habits are relinquished, would seem
+to point strongly in the direction of their acquisition at a
+comparatively late period of development.
+
+I have dealt with bees only, and not with ants, which would perhaps
+seem to present greater difficulty, inasmuch as in some families of
+these there are two, or even three, castes of neuters with well-
+marked and wide differences of structure and instinct; but I think
+the reader will agree with me that the ants are sufficiently covered
+by the bees, and that enough, therefore, has been said already.  Mr.
+Darwin supposes that these modifications of structure and instinct
+have been effected by the accumulation of numerous slight,
+profitable, spontaneous variations on the part of the fertile
+parents, which has caused them (so, at least, I understand him) to
+lay this or that particular kind of egg, which should develop into a
+kind of bee or ant, with this or that particular instinct, which
+instinct is merely a co-ordination with structure, and in no way
+attributable to use or habit in preceding generations.
+
+Even so, one cannot see that the habit of laying this particular kind
+of egg might not be due to use and memory in previous generations on
+the part of the fertile parents, "for the numerous slight spontaneous
+variations," on which "natural selection" is to work, must have had
+some cause than which none more reasonable than sense of need and
+experience presents itself; and there seems hardly any limit to what
+long-continued faith and desire, aided by intelligence, may be able
+to effect.  But if sense of need and experience are denied, I see no
+escape from the view that machines are new species of life.
+
+Mr. Darwin concludes:  "I am surprised that no one has hitherto
+advanced this demonstrative case of neuter insects against the well-
+known doctrine of inherited habit as advanced by Lamarck" ("Natural
+Selection," p. 233, ed. 1876).
+
+After reading this, one feels as though there was no more to be said.
+The well-known doctrine of inherited habit, as advanced by Lamarck,
+has indeed been long since so thoroughly exploded, that it is not
+worth while to go into an explanation of what it was, or to refute it
+in detail.  Here, however, is an argument against it, which is so
+much better than anything advanced yet, that one is surprised it has
+never been made use of; so we will just advance it, as it were, to
+slay the slain, and pass on.  Such, at least, is the effect which the
+paragraph above quoted produced upon myself, and would, I think,
+produce on the great majority of readers.  When driven by the
+exigencies of my own position to examine the value of the
+demonstration more closely, I conclude, either that I have utterly
+failed to grasp Mr. Darwin's meaning, or that I have no less
+completely mistaken the value and bearing of the facts I have myself
+advanced in these few last pages.  Failing this, my surprise is, not
+that "no one has hitherto advanced" the instincts of neuter insects
+as a demonstrative case against the doctrine of inherited habit, but
+rather that Mr. Darwin should have thought the case demonstrative; or
+again, when I remember that the neuter working bee is only an aborted
+queen, and may be turned back again into a queen, by giving it such
+treatment as it can alone be expected to remember--then I am
+surprised that the structure and instincts of neuter bees has never
+(if never) been brought forward in support of the doctrine of
+inherited habit as advanced by Lamarck, and against any theory which
+would rob such instincts of their foundation in intelligence, and of
+their connection with experience and memory.
+
+As for the instinct to mutilate, that is as easily accounted for as
+any other inherited habit, whether of man to mutilate cattle, or of
+ants to make slaves, or of birds to make their nests.  I can see no
+way of accounting for the existence of any one of these instincts,
+except on the supposition that they have arisen gradually, through
+perceptions of power and need on the part of the animal which
+exhibits them--these two perceptions advancing hand in hand from
+generation to generation, and being accumulated in time and in the
+common course of nature.
+
+I have already sufficiently guarded against being supposed to
+maintain that very long before an instinct or structure was
+developed, the creature descried it in the far future, and made
+towards it.  We do not observe this to be the manner of human
+progress.  Our mechanical inventions, which, as I ventured to say in
+"Erewhon," through the mouth of the second professor, are really
+nothing but extra-corporaneous limbs--a wooden leg being nothing but
+a bad kind of flesh leg, and a flesh leg being only a much better
+kind of wooden leg than any creature could be expected to manufacture
+introspectively and consciously--our mechanical inventions have
+almost invariably grown up from small beginnings, and without any
+very distant foresight on the part of the inventors.  When Watt
+perfected the steam engine, he did not, it seems, foresee the
+locomotive, much less would any one expect a savage to invent a steam
+engine.  A child breathes automatically, because it has learnt to
+breathe little by little, and has now breathed for an incalculable
+length of time; but it cannot open oysters at all, nor even conceive
+the idea of opening oysters for two or three years after it is born,
+for the simple reason that this lesson is one which it is only
+beginning to learn.  All I maintain is, that, give a child as many
+generations of practice in opening oysters as it has had in breathing
+or sucking, and it would on being born, turn to the oyster-knife no
+less naturally than to the breast.  We observe that among certain
+families of men there has been a tendency to vary in the direction of
+the use and development of machinery; and that in a certain still
+smaller number of families, there seems to be an almost infinitely
+great capacity for varying and inventing still further, whether
+socially or mechanically; while other families, and perhaps the
+greater number, reach a certain point and stop; but we also observe
+that not even the most inventive races ever see very far ahead.  I
+suppose the progress of plants and animals to be exactly analogous to
+this.
+
+Mr. Darwin has always maintained that the effects of use and disuse
+are highly important in the development of structure, and if, as he
+has said, habits are sometimes inherited--then they should sometimes
+be important also in the development of instinct, or habit.  But what
+does the development of an instinct or structure, or, indeed, any
+effect upon the organism produced by "use and disuse," imply?  It
+implies an effect produced by a desire to do something for which the
+organism was not originally well adapted or sufficient, but for which
+it has come to be sufficient in consequence of the desire.  The wish
+has been father to the power; but this again opens up the whole
+theory of Lamarck, that the development of organs has been due to the
+wants or desires of the animal in which the organ appears.  So far as
+I can see, I am insisting on little more than this.
+
+Once grant that a blacksmith's arm grows thicker through hammering
+iron, and you have an organ modified in accordance with a need or
+wish.  Let the desire and the practice be remembered, and go on for
+long enough, and the slight alterations of the organ will be
+accumulated, until they are checked either by the creature's having
+got all that he cares about making serious further effort to obtain,
+or until his wants prove inconvenient to other creatures that are
+stronger than he, and he is hence brought to a standstill.  Use and
+disuse, then, with me, and, as I gather also, with Lamarck, are the
+keys to the position, coupled, of course, with continued personality
+and memory.  No sudden and striking changes would be effected, except
+that occasionally a blunder might prove a happy accident, as happens
+not unfrequently with painters, musicians, chemists, and inventors at
+the present day; or sometimes a creature, with exceptional powers of
+memory or reflection, would make his appearance in this race or in
+that.  We all profit by our accidents as well as by our more cunning
+contrivances, so that analogy would point in the direction of
+thinking that many of the most happy thoughts in the animal and
+vegetable kingdom were originated much as certain discoveries that
+have been made by accident among ourselves.  These would be
+originally blind variations, though even so, probably less blind than
+we think, if we could know the whole truth.  When originated, they
+would be eagerly taken advantage of and improved upon by the animal
+in whom they appeared; but it cannot be supposed that they would be
+very far in advance of the last step gained, more than are those
+"flukes" which sometimes enable us to go so far beyond our own
+ordinary powers.  For if they were, the animal would despair of
+repeating them.  No creature hopes, or even wishes, for very much
+more than he has been accustomed to all his life, he and his family,
+and the others whom he can understand, around him.  It has been well
+said that "enough" is always "a little more than one has."  We do not
+try for things which we believe to be beyond our reach, hence one
+would expect that the fortunes, as it were, of animals should have
+been built up gradually.  Our own riches grow with our desires and
+the pains we take in pursuit of them, and our desires vary and
+increase with our means of gratifying them; but unless with men of
+exceptional business aptitude, wealth grows gradually by the adding
+field to field and farm to farm; so with the limbs and instincts of
+animals; these are but the things they have made or bought with their
+money, or with money that has been left them by their forefathers,
+which, though it is neither silver nor gold, but faith and protoplasm
+only, is good money and capital notwithstanding.
+
+I have already admitted that instinct may be modified by food or
+drugs, which may affect a structure or habit as powerfully as we see
+certain poisons affect the structure of plants by producing, as Mr.
+Darwin tells us, very complex galls upon their leaves.  I do not,
+therefore, for a moment insist on habit as the sole cause of
+instinct.  Every habit must have had its originating cause, and the
+causes which have started one habit will from time to time start or
+modify others; nor can I explain why some individuals of a race
+should be cleverer than others, any more than I can explain why they
+should exist at all; nevertheless, I observe it to be a fact that
+differences in intelligence and power of growth are universal in the
+individuals of all those races which we can best watch.  I also most
+readily admit that the common course of nature would both cause many
+variations to arise independently of any desire on the part of the
+animal (much as we have lately seen that the moons of Mars were on
+the point of being discovered three hundred years ago, merely through
+Galileo sending to Kepler a Latin anagram which Kepler could not
+understand, and arranged into the line--"Salve umbistineum geminatum
+Martia prolem," and interpreted to mean that Mars had two moons,
+whereas Galileo had meant to say "Altissimum planetam tergeminum
+observavi," meaning that he had seen Saturn's ring), and would also
+preserve and accumulate such variations when they had arisen; but I
+can no more believe that the wonderful adaptation of structures to
+needs, which we see around us in such an infinite number of plants
+and animals, can have arisen without a perception of those needs on
+the part of the creature in whom the structure appears, than I can
+believe that the form of the dray-horse or greyhound--so well adapted
+both to the needs of the animal in his daily service to man, and to
+the desires of man, that the creature should do him this daily
+service--can have arisen without any desire on man's part to produce
+this particular structure, or without the inherited habit of
+performing the corresponding actions for man, on the part of the
+greyhound and dray-horse.
+
+And I believe that this will be felt as reasonable by the great
+majority of my readers.  I believe that nine fairly intelligent and
+observant men out of ten, if they were asked which they thought most
+likely to have been the main cause of the development of the various
+phases either of structure or instinct which we see around us,
+namely--sense of need, or even whim, and hence occasional discovery,
+helped by an occasional piece of good luck, communicated, it may be,
+and generally adopted, long practised, remembered by offspring,
+modified by changed surroundings, and accumulated in the course of
+time--or, the accumulation of small divergent, indefinite, and
+perfectly unintelligent variations, preserved through the survival of
+their possessor in the struggle for existence, and hence in time
+leading to wide differences from the original type--would answer in
+favour of the former alternative; and if for no other cause yet for
+this--that in the human race, which we are best able to watch, and
+between which and the lower animals no difference in kind will, I
+think, be supposed, but only in degree, we observe that progress must
+have an internal current setting in a definite direction, but whither
+we know not for very long beforehand; and that without such internal
+current there is stagnation.  Our own progress--or variation--is due
+not to small, fortuitous inventions or modifications which have
+enabled their fortunate possessors to survive in times of difficulty,
+not, in fact, to strokes of luck (though these, of course, have had
+some effect--but not more, probably, than strokes of ill luck have
+counteracted) but to strokes of cunning--to a sense of need, and to
+study of the past and present which have given shrewd people a key
+with which to unlock the chambers of the future.
+
+Further, Mr. Darwin himself says ("Plants and Animals under
+Domestication," ii. p. 237, ed. 1875):-
+
+"But I think we must take a broader view and conclude that organic
+beings when subjected during several generations to any change
+whatever in their conditions tend to vary:  THE KIND OF VARIATION
+WHICH ENSUES DEPENDING IN MOST CASES IN A FAR HIGHER DEGREE ON THE
+NATURE OR CONSTITUTION OF THE BEING, THAN ON THE NATURE OF THE
+CHANGED CONDITIONS."  And this we observe in man.  The history of a
+man prior to his birth is more important as far as his success or
+failure goes than his surroundings after birth, important though
+these may indeed be.  The able man rises in spite of a thousand
+hindrances, the fool fails in spite of every advantage.  "Natural
+selection," however, does not make either the able man or the fool.
+It only deals with him after other causes have made him, and would
+seem in the end to amount to little more than to a statement of the
+fact that when variations have arisen they will accumulate.  One
+cannot look, as has already been said, for the origin of species in
+that part of the course of nature which settles the preservation or
+extinction of variations which have already arisen from some unknown
+cause, but one must look for it in the causes that have led to
+variation at all.  These causes must get, as it were, behind the back
+of "natural selection," which is rather a shield and hindrance to our
+perception of our own ignorance than an explanation of what these
+causes are.
+
+The remarks made above will apply equally to plants such as the
+misletoe and red clover.  For the sake of brevity I will deal only
+with the misletoe, which seems to be the more striking case.  Mr.
+Darwin writes:-
+
+"Naturalists continually refer to external conditions, such as
+climate, food, &c., as the only possible cause of variation.  In one
+limited sense, as we shall hereafter see, this may be true; but it is
+preposterous to attribute to mere external conditions, the structure,
+for instance, of the woodpecker, with its feet, tail, beak, and
+tongue, so admirably adapted to catch insects under the bark of
+trees.  In the case of the misletoe, which draws its nourishment from
+certain trees, which has seeds that must be transported by certain
+birds, and which has flowers with separate sexes absolutely requiring
+the agency of certain insects to bring pollen from one flower to
+another, it is equally preposterous to account for the structure of
+this parasite with its relations to several distinct organic beings,
+by the effect of external conditions, or of habit, or of the volition
+of the plant itself" ("Natural Selection," p. 3, ed. 1876).
+
+I cannot see this.  To me it seems still more preposterous to account
+for it by the action of "natural selection" operating upon indefinite
+variations.  It would be preposterous to suppose that a bird very
+different from a woodpecker should have had a conception of a
+woodpecker, and so by volition gradually grown towards it.  So in
+like manner with the misletoe.  Neither plant nor bird knew how far
+they were going, or saw more than a very little ahead as to the means
+of remedying this or that with which they were dissatisfied, or of
+getting this or that which they desired; but given perceptions at
+all, and thus a sense of needs and of the gratification of those
+needs, and thus hope and fear, and a sense of content and discontent-
+-given also the lowest power of gratifying those needs--given also
+that some individuals have these powers in a higher degree than
+others--given also continued personality and memory over a vast
+extent of time--and the whole phenomena of species and genera resolve
+themselves into an illustration of the old proverb, that what is one
+man's meat is another man's poison.  Life in its lowest form under
+the above conditions--and we cannot conceive of life at all without
+them--would be bound to vary, and to result after not so very many
+millions of years in the infinite forms and instincts which we see
+around us.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII--LAMARCK AND MR. DARWIN
+
+
+
+It will have been seen that in the preceding pages the theory of
+evolution, as originally propounded by Lamarck, has been more than
+once supported, as against the later theory concerning it put forward
+by Mr. Darwin, and now generally accepted.
+
+It is not possible for me, within the limits at my command, to do
+anything like justice to the arguments that may be brought forward in
+favour of either of these two theories.  Mr. Darwin's books are at
+the command of every one; and so much has been discovered since
+Lamarck's day, that if he were living now, he would probably state
+his case very differently; I shall therefore content myself with a
+few brief remarks, which will hardly, however, aspire to the dignity
+of argument.
+
+According to Mr. Darwin, differentiations of structure and instinct
+have mainly come about through the accumulation of small, fortuitous
+variations without intelligence or desire upon the part of the
+creature varying; modification, however, through desire and sense of
+need, is not denied entirely, inasmuch as considerable effect is
+ascribed by Mr. Darwin to use and disuse, which involves, as has been
+already said, the modification of a structure in accordance with the
+wishes of its possessor.
+
+According to Lamarck, genera and species have been evolved, in the
+main, by exactly the same process as that by which human inventions
+and civilisations are now progressing; and this involves that
+intelligence, ingenuity, heroism, and all the elements of romance,
+should have had the main share in the development of every herb and
+living creature around us.
+
+I take the following brief outline of the most important part of
+Lamarck's theory from vol. xxxvi. of the Naturalist's Library
+(Edinburgh, 1843):-
+
+"The more simple bodies," says the editor, giving Lamarck's opinion
+without endorsing it, "are easily formed, and this being the case, it
+is easy to conceive how in the lapse of time animals of a more
+complex structure should be produced, FOR IT MUST BE ADMITTED AS A
+FUNDAMENTAL LAW, THAT THE PRODUCTION OF A NEW ORGAN IN AN ANIMAL BODY
+RESULTS FROM ANY NEW WANT OR DESIRE IT MAY EXPERIENCE.  The first
+effort of a being just beginning to develop itself must be to procure
+subsistence, and hence in time there comes to be produced a stomach
+or alimentary cavity."  (Thus we saw that the amoeba is in the habit
+of "extemporising" a stomach when it wants one.)  "Other wants
+occasioned by circumstances will lead to other efforts, which in
+their turn will generate new organs."
+
+Lamarck's wonderful conception was hampered by an unnecessary
+adjunct, namely, a belief in an inherent tendency towards progressive
+development in every low organism.  He was thus driven to account for
+the presence of many very low and very ancient organisms at the
+present day, and fell back upon the theory, which is not yet
+supported by evidence, that such low forms are still continually
+coming into existence from inorganic matter.  But there seems no
+necessity to suppose that all low forms should possess an inherent
+tendency towards progression.  It would be enough that there should
+occasionally arise somewhat more gifted specimens of one or more
+original forms.  These would vary, and the ball would be thus set
+rolling, while the less gifted would remain in statu quo, provided
+they were sufficiently gifted to escape extinction.
+
+Nor do I gather that Lamarck insisted on continued personality and
+memory so as to account for heredity at all, and so as to see life as
+a single, or as at any rate, only a few, vast compound animals, but
+without the connecting organism between each component item in the
+whole creature, which is found in animals that are strictly called
+compound.  Until continued personality and memory are connected with
+the idea of heredity, heredity of any kind is little more than a term
+for something which one does not understand.  But there seems little
+a priori difficulty as regards Lamarck's main idea, now that Mr.
+Darwin has familiarised us with evolution, and made us feel what a
+vast array of facts can be brought forward in support of it.
+
+Mr. Darwin tells us, in the preface to his last edition of the
+"Origin of Species," that Lamarck was partly led to his conclusions
+by the analogy of domestic productions.  It is rather hard to say
+what these words imply; they may mean anything from a baby to an
+apple dumpling, but if they imply that Lamarck drew inspirations from
+the gradual development of the mechanical inventions of man, and from
+the progress of man's ideas, I would say that of all sources this
+would seem to be the safest and most fertile from which to draw.
+
+Plants and animals under domestication are indeed a suggestive field
+for study, but machines are the manner in which man is varying at
+this moment.  We know how our own minds work, and how our mechanical
+organisations--for, in all sober seriousness, this is what it comes
+to--have progressed hand in hand with our desires; sometimes the
+power a little ahead, and sometimes the desire; sometimes both
+combining to form an organ with almost infinite capacity for
+variation, and sometimes comparatively early reaching the limit of
+utmost development in respect of any new conception, and accordingly
+coming to a full stop; sometimes making leaps and bounds, and
+sometimes advancing sluggishly.  Here we are behind the scenes, and
+can see how the whole thing works.  We have man, the very animal
+which we can best understand, caught in the very act of variation,
+through his own needs, and not through the needs of others; the whole
+process is a natural one; the varying of a creature as much in a wild
+state as the ants and butterflies are wild.  There is less occasion
+here for the continual "might be" and "may be," which we are
+compelled to put up with when dealing with plants and animals, of the
+workings of whose minds we can only obscurely judge.  Also, there is
+more prospect of pecuniary profit attaching to the careful study of
+machinery than can be generally hoped for from the study of the lower
+animals; and though I admit that this consideration should not be
+carried too far, a great deal of very unnecessary suffering will be
+spared to the lower animals; for much that passes for natural history
+is little better than prying into other people's business, from no
+other motive than curiosity.  I would, therefore, strongly advise the
+reader to use man, and the present races of man, and the growing
+inventions and conceptions of man, as his guide, if he would seek to
+form an independent judgement on the development of organic life.
+For all growth is only somebody making something.
+
+Lamarck's theories fell into disrepute, partly because they were too
+startling to be capable of ready fusion with existing ideas; they
+were, in fact, too wide a cross for fertility; partly because they
+fell upon evil times, during the reaction that followed the French
+Revolution; partly because, unless I am mistaken, he did not
+sufficiently link on the experience of the race to that of the
+individual, nor perceive the importance of the principle that
+consciousness, memory, volition, intelligence, &c., vanish, or become
+latent, on becoming intense.  He also appears to have mixed up matter
+with his system, which was either plainly wrong, or so incapable of
+proof as to enable people to laugh at him, and pooh-pooh him; but I
+believe it will come to be perceived, that he has received somewhat
+scant justice at the hands of his successors, and that his "crude
+theories," as they have been somewhat cheaply called, are far from
+having had their last say.
+
+Returning to Mr. Darwin, we find, as we have already seen, that it is
+hard to say exactly how much Mr. Darwin differs from Lamarck, and how
+much he agrees with him.  Mr. Darwin has always maintained that use
+and disuse are highly important, and this implies that the effect
+produced on the parent should be remembered by the offspring, in the
+same way as the memory of a wound is transmitted by one set of cells
+to succeeding ones, who long repeat the scar, though it may fade
+finally away.  Also, after dealing with the manner in which one eye
+of a young flat-fish travels round the head till both eyes are on the
+same side of the fish, he gives ("Natural Selection," p. 188, ed.
+1875) an instance of a structure "which apparently owes its origin
+exclusively to use or habit."  He refers to the tail of some American
+monkeys "which has been converted into a wonderfully perfect
+prehensile organ, and serves as a fifth hand.  A reviewer," he
+continues, . . .  "remarks on this structure--'It is impossible to
+believe that in any number of ages the first slight incipient
+tendency to grasp, could preserve the lives of the individuals
+possessing it, or favour their chance of having and of rearing
+offspring.'  But there is no necessity for any such belief.  Habit,
+and this almost implies that some benefit, great or small, is thus
+derived, would in all probability suffice for the work."  If, then,
+habit can do this--and it is no small thing to develop a wonderfully
+perfect prehensile organ which can serve as a fifth hand--how much
+more may not habit do, even though unaided, as Mr. Darwin supposes to
+have been the case in this instance, by "natural selection"?  After
+attributing many of the structural and instinctive differences of
+plants and animals to the effects of use--as we may plainly do with
+Mr. Darwin's own consent--after attributing a good deal more to
+unknown causes, and a good deal to changed conditions, which are
+bound, if at all important, to result either in sterility or
+variation--how much of the work of originating species is left for
+natural selection?--which, as Mr. Darwin admits ("Natural Selection,"
+p. 63, ed. 1876), does not INDUCE VARIABILITY, but "implies only the
+preservation of SUCH VARIATIONS AS ARISE, and are beneficial to the
+being under its conditions of life?"  An important part assuredly,
+and one which we can never sufficiently thank Mr. Darwin for having
+put so forcibly before us, but an indirect part only, like the part
+played by time and space, and not, I think, the one which Mr. Darwin
+would assign to it.
+
+Mr. Darwin himself has admitted that in the earlier editions of his
+"Origin of Species" he "underrated, as it now seems probable, the
+frequency and importance of modifications due to spontaneous
+variability."  And this involves the having over-rated the action of
+"natural selection" as an agent in the evolution of species.  But one
+gathers that he still believes the accumulation of small and
+fortuitous variations through the agency of "natural selection" to be
+the main cause of the present divergencies of structure and instinct.
+I do not, however, think that Mr. Darwin is clear about his own
+meaning.  I think the prominence given to "natural selection" in
+connection with the "origin of species" has led him, in spite of
+himself, and in spite of his being on his guard (as is clearly shown
+by the paragraph on page 63 "Natural Selection," above referred to),
+to regard "natural selection" as in some way accounting for
+variation, just as the use of the dangerous word "spontaneous,"--
+though he is so often on his guard against it, and so frequently
+prefaces it with the words "so-called,"--would seem to have led him
+into very serious confusion of thought in the passage quoted at the
+beginning of this paragraph.
+
+For after saying that he had underrated "the frequency and importance
+of modifications due to spontaneous variability," he continues, "but
+it is impossible to attribute to this cause the innumerable
+structures which are so well adapted to the habits of life of each
+species."  That is to say, it is impossible to attribute these
+innumerable structures to spontaneous variability.
+
+What IS spontaneous variability?
+
+Clearly, from his preceding paragraph, Mr. Darwin means only "so-
+called spontaneous variations," such as "the appearance of a moss-
+rose on a common rose, or of a nectarine on a peach-tree," which he
+gives as good examples of so-called spontaneous variation.
+
+And these variations are, after all, due to causes, but to unknown
+causes; spontaneous variation being, in fact, but another name for
+variation due to causes which we know nothing about, but in no
+possible sense a CAUSE OF VARIATION.  So that when we come to put
+clearly before our minds exactly what the sentence we are considering
+amounts to, it comes to this:  that it is impossible to attribute the
+innumerable structures which are so well adapted to the habits of
+life of each species to UNKNOWN CAUSES.
+
+"I can no more believe in THIS," continues Mr. Darwin, "than that the
+well-adapted form of a race-horse or greyhound, which, before the
+principle of selection by man was well understood, excited so much
+surprise in the minds of the older naturalists, can THUS be
+explained" ("Natural Selection," p. 171, ed. 1876).
+
+Or, in other words, "I can no more believe that the well-adapted
+structures of species are due to unknown causes, than I can believe
+that the well-adapted form of a race-horse can be explained by being
+attributed to unknown causes.
+
+I have puzzled over this paragraph for several hours with the
+sincerest desire to get at the precise idea which underlies it, but
+the more I have studied it the more convinced I am that it does not
+contain, or at any rate convey, any clear or definite idea at all.
+If I thought it was a mere slip, I should not call attention to it;
+this book will probably have slips enough of its own without
+introducing those of a great man unnecessarily; but I submit that it
+is necessary to call attention to it here, inasmuch as it is
+impossible to believe that after years of reflection upon his
+subject, Mr. Darwin should have written as above, especially in such
+a place, if his mind was really clear about his own position.
+Immediately after the admission of a certain amount of
+miscalculation, there comes a more or less exculpatory sentence which
+sounds so right that ninety-nine people out of a hundred would walk
+through it, unless led by some exigency of their own position to
+examine it closely but which yet upon examination proves to be as
+nearly meaningless as a sentence can be.
+
+The weak point in Mr. Darwin's theory would seem to be a deficiency,
+so to speak, of motive power to originate and direct the variations
+which time is to accumulate.  It deals admirably with the
+accumulation of variations in creatures already varying, but it does
+not provide a sufficient number of sufficiently important variations
+to be accumulated.  Given the motive power which Lamarck suggested,
+and Mr. Darwin's mechanism would appear (with the help of memory, as
+bearing upon reproduction, of continued personality, and hence of
+inherited habit, and of the vanishing tendency of consciousness) to
+work with perfect ease.  Mr. Darwin has made us all feel that in some
+way or other variations ARE ACCUMULATED, and that evolution is the
+true solution of the present widely different structures around us,
+whereas, before he wrote, hardly any one believed this.  However we
+may differ from him in detail, the present general acceptance of
+evolution must remain as his work, and a more valuable work can
+hardly be imagined.  Nevertheless, I cannot think that "natural
+selection," working upon small, fortuitous, indefinite, unintelligent
+variations, would produce the results we see around us.  One wants
+something that will give a more definite aim to variations, and
+hence, at times, cause bolder leaps in advance.  One cannot but doubt
+whether so many plants and animals would be being so continually
+saved "by the skin of their teeth," as must be so saved if the
+variations from which genera ultimately arise are as small in their
+commencement and at each successive stage as Mr. Darwin seems to
+believe.  God--to use the language of the Bible--is not extreme to
+mark what is done amiss, whether with plant or beast or man; on the
+other hand, when towers of Siloam fall, they fall on the just as well
+as the unjust.
+
+One feels, on considering Mr. Darwin's position, that if it be
+admitted that there is in the lowest creature a power to vary, no
+matter how small, one has got in this power as near the "origin of
+species" as one can ever hope to get.  For no one professes to
+account for the origin of life; but if a creature with a power to
+vary reproduces itself at all, it must reproduce another creature
+WHICH SHALL ALSO HAVE THE POWER TO VARY; so that, given time and
+space enough, there is no knowing where such a creature could or
+would stop.
+
+If the primordial cell had been only capable of reproducing itself
+once, there would have followed a single line of descendants, the
+chain of which might at any moment have been broken by casualty.
+Doubtless the millionth repetition would have differed very
+materially from the original--as widely, perhaps, as we differ from
+the primordial cell; but it would only have differed by addition, and
+could no more in any generation resume its latest development without
+having passed through the initial stage of being what its first
+forefather was, and doing what its first forefather did, and without
+going through all or a sufficient number of the steps whereby it had
+reached its latest differentiation, than water can rise above its own
+level.
+
+The very idea, then, of reproduction involves, unless I am mistaken,
+that, no matter how much the creature reproducing itself may gain in
+power and versatility, it must still always begin WITH ITSELF AGAIN
+in each generation.  The primordial cell being capable of reproducing
+itself not only once, but many times over, each of the creatures
+which it produces must be similarly gifted; hence the geometrical
+ratio of increase and the existing divergence of type.  In each
+generation it will pass rapidly and unconsciously through all the
+earlier stages of which there has been infinite experience, and for
+which the conditions are reproduced with sufficient similarity to
+cause no failure of memory or hesitation; but in each generation,
+when it comes to the part in which the course is not so clear, it
+will become conscious; still, however, where the course is plain, as
+in breathing, digesting, &c., retaining unconsciousness.  Thus organs
+which present all the appearance of being designed--as, for example,
+the tip for its beak prepared by the embryo chicken--would be
+prepared in the end, as it were, by rote, and without sense of
+design, though none the less owing their origin to design.
+
+The question is not concerning evolution, but as to the main cause
+which has led to evolution in such and such shapes.  To me it seems
+that the "Origin of Variation," whatever it is, is the only true
+"Origin of Species," and that this must, as Lamarck insisted, be
+looked for in the needs and experiences of the creatures varying.
+Unless we can explain the origin of variations, we are met by the
+unexplained AT EVERY STEP in the progress of a creature from its
+original homogeneous condition to its differentiation, we will say,
+as an elephant; so that to say that an elephant has become an
+elephant through the accumulation of a vast number of small,
+fortuitous, but unexplained, variations in some lower creatures, is
+really to say that it has become an elephant owing to a series of
+causes about which we know nothing whatever, or, in other words, that
+one does not know how it came to be an elephant.  But to say that an
+elephant has become an elephant owing to a series of variations,
+nine-tenths of which were caused by the wishes of the creature or
+creatures from which the elephant is descended--this is to offer a
+reason, and definitely put the insoluble one step further back.  The
+question will then turn upon the sufficiency of the reason--that is
+to say, whether the hypothesis is borne out by facts.
+
+The effects of competition would, of course, have an extremely
+important effect upon any creature, in the same way as any other
+condition of nature under which it lived, must affect its sense of
+need and its opinions generally.  The results of competition would
+be, as it were, the decisions of an arbiter settling the question
+whether such and such variation was really to the animal's advantage
+or not--a matter on which the animal will, on the whole, have formed
+a pretty fair judgement for itself.  UNDOUBTEDLY THE PAST DECISIONS
+OF SUCH AN ARBITER WOULD AFFECT THE CONDUCT OF THE CREATURE, which
+would have doubtless had its shortcomings and blunders, and would
+amend them.  The creature would shape its course according to its
+experience of the common course of events, but it would be
+continually trying and often successfully, to evade the law by all
+manner of sharp practice.  New precedents would thus arise, so that
+the law would shift with time and circumstances; but the law would
+not otherwise direct the channels into which life would flow, than as
+laws, whether natural or artificial, have affected the development of
+the widely differing trades and professions among mankind.  These
+have had their origin rather in the needs and experiences of mankind
+than in any laws.
+
+To put much the same as the above in different words.  Assume that
+small favourable variations are preserved more commonly, in
+proportion to their numbers, than is perhaps the case, and assume
+that considerable variations occur more rarely than they probably do
+occur, how account for any variation at all?  "Natural selection"
+cannot CREATE the smallest variation unless it acts through
+perception of its mode of operation, recognised inarticulately, but
+none the less clearly, by the creature varying.  "Natural selection"
+operates on what it finds, and not on what it has made.  Animals that
+have been wise and lucky live longer and breed more than others less
+wise and lucky.  Assuredly.  The wise and lucky animals transmit
+their wisdom and luck.  Assuredly.  They add to their powers, and
+diverge into widely different directions.  Assuredly.  What is the
+cause of this?  Surely the fact that they were capable of feeling
+needs, and that they differed in their needs and manner of gratifying
+them, and that they continued to live in successive generations,
+rather than the fact that when lucky and wise they thrived and bred
+more descendants.  This last is an accessory hardly less important
+for the DEVELOPMENT of species than the fact of the continuation of
+life at all; but it is an accessory of much the same kind as this,
+for if animals continue to live at all, they must live IN SOME WAY,
+and will find that there are good ways and bad ways of living.  An
+animal which discovers the good way will gradually develop further
+powers, and so species will get further and further apart; but the
+origin of this is to be looked for, not in the power which decides
+whether this or that way was good, but in the cause which determines
+the creature, consciously or unconsciously, to try this or that way.
+
+But Mr. Darwin might say that this is not a fair way of stating the
+issue.  He might say, "You beg the question; you assume that there is
+an inherent tendency in animals towards progressive development,
+whereas I say that there is no good evidence of any such tendency.  I
+maintain that the differences that have from time to time arisen have
+come about mainly from causes so far beyond our ken, that we can only
+call them spontaneous; and if so, natural selection which you must
+allow to have at any rate played an important part in the
+ACCUMULATION of variations, must also be allowed to be the nearest
+thing to the cause of Specific differences, which we are able to
+arrive at."
+
+Thus he writes ("Natural Selection," p. 176, ed. 1876):  "Although we
+have no good evidence of the existence in organic beings of a
+tendency towards progressive development, yet this necessarily
+follows, as I have attempted to show in the fourth chapter, through
+the continued action of natural selection."  Mr. Darwin does not say
+that organic beings have no tendency to vary at all, but only that
+there is no good evidence that they have a tendency to progressive
+development, which, I take it, means, to see an ideal a long way off,
+and very different to their present selves, which ideal they think
+will suit them, and towards which they accordingly make.  I would
+admit this as contrary to all experience.  I doubt whether plants and
+animals have any INNATE TENDENCY TO VARY at all, being led to
+question this by gathering from "Plants and Animals under
+Domestication" that this is Mr. Darwin's own opinion.  I am inclined
+rather to think that they have only an innate POWER TO VARY slightly,
+in accordance with changed conditions, and an innate capability of
+being affected both in structure and instinct, by causes similar to
+those which we observe to affect ourselves.  But however this may be,
+they do vary somewhat, and unless they did, they would not in time
+have come to be so widely different from each other as they now are.
+The question is as to the origin and character of these variations.
+
+We say they mainly originate in a creature through a sense of its
+needs, and vary through the varying surroundings which will cause
+those needs to vary, and through the opening up of new desires in
+many creatures, as the consequence of the gratification of old ones;
+they depend greatly on differences of individual capacity and
+temperament; they are communicated, and in the course of time
+transmitted, as what we call hereditary habits or structures, though
+these are only, in truth, intense and epitomised memories of how
+certain creatures liked to deal with protoplasm.  The question
+whether this or that is really good or ill, is settled, as the proof
+of the pudding by the eating thereof, i.e., by the rigorous
+competitive examinations through which most living organisms must
+pass.  Mr. Darwin says that there is no good evidence in support of
+any great principle, or tendency on the part of the creature itself,
+which would steer variation, as it were, and keep its head straight,
+but that the most marvellous adaptations of structures to needs are
+simply the result of small and blind variations, accumulated by the
+operation of "natural selection," which is thus the main cause of the
+origin of species.
+
+Enough has perhaps already been said to make the reader feel that the
+question wants reopening; I shall, therefore, here only remark that
+we may assume no fundamental difference as regards intelligence,
+memory, and sense of needs to exist between man and the lowest
+animals, and that in man we do distinctly see a tendency towards
+progressive development, operating through his power of profiting by
+and transmitting his experience, but operating in directions which
+man cannot foresee for any long distance.  We also see this in many
+of the higher animals under domestication, as with horses which have
+learnt to canter and dogs which point; more especially we observe it
+along the line of latest development, where equilibrium of settled
+convictions has not yet been fully attained.  One neither finds nor
+expects much a priori knowledge, whether in man or beast; but one
+does find some little in the beginnings of, and throughout the
+development of, every habit, at the commencement of which, and on
+every successive improvement in which, deductive and inductive
+methods are, as it were, fused.  Thus the effect, where we can best
+watch its causes, seems mainly produced by a desire for a definite
+object--in some cases a serious and sensible desire, in others an
+idle one, in others, again, a mistaken one; and sometimes by a
+blunder which, in the hands of an otherwise able creature, has turned
+up trumps.  In wild animals and plants the divergences have been
+accumulated, if they answered to the prolonged desires of the
+creature itself, and if these desires were to its true ultimate good;
+with plants or animals under domestication they have been accumulated
+if they answered a little to the original wishes of the creature, and
+much, to the wishes of man.  As long as man continued to like them,
+they would be advantageous to the creature; when he tired of them,
+they would be disadvantageous to it, and would accumulate no longer.
+Surely the results produced in the adaptation of structure to need
+among many plants and insects are better accounted for on this, which
+I suppose to be Lamarck's view, namely, by supposing that what goes
+on amongst ourselves has gone on amongst all creatures, than by
+supposing that these adaptations are the results of perfectly blind
+and unintelligent variations.
+
+Let me give two examples of such adaptations, taken from Mr. St.
+George Mivart's "Genesis of Species," to which work I would wish
+particularly to call the reader's attention.  He should also read Mr.
+Darwin's answers to Mr. Mivart (p. 176, "Natural Selection," ed.
+1876, and onwards).
+
+Mr. Mivart writes:-
+
+"Some insects which imitate leaves extend the imitation even to the
+very injuries on those leaves made by the attacks of insects or
+fungi.  Thus speaking of the walking-stick insects, Mr. Wallace says,
+'One of these creatures obtained by myself in Borneo (ceroxylus
+laceratus) was covered over with foliaceous excrescences of a clear
+olive green colour, so as exactly to resemble a stick grown over by a
+creeping moss or jungermannia.  The Dyak who brought it me assured me
+it was grown over with moss, though alive, and it was only after a
+most minute examination that I could convince myself it was not so.'
+Again, as to the leaf butterfly, he says, 'We come to a still more
+extraordinary part of the imitation, for we find representations of
+leaves in every stage of decay, variously blotched, and mildewed, and
+pierced with holes, and in many cases irregularly covered with
+powdery black dots, gathered into patches and spots so closely
+resembling the various kinds of minute fungi that grow on dead
+leaves, that it is impossible to avoid thinking at first sight that
+the butterflies themselves have been attacked by real fungi.'"
+
+I can no more believe that these artificial fungi in which the moth
+arrays itself are due to the accumulation of minute, perfectly blind,
+and unintelligent variations, than I can believe that the artificial
+flowers which a woman wears in her hat can have got there without
+design; or that a detective puts on plain clothes without the
+slightest intention of making his victim think that he is not a
+policeman.
+
+Again Mr. Mivart writes:-
+
+"In the work just referred to ('The Fertilisation of Orchids'), Mr.
+Darwin gives a series of the most wonderful and minute contrivances,
+by which the visits of insects are utilised for the fertilisation of
+orchids--structures so wonderful that nothing could well be more so,
+except the attribution of their origin to minute, fortuitous, and
+indefinite variations.
+
+"The instances are too numerous and too long to quote, but in his
+'Origin of Species' he describes two which must not be passed over.
+In one (coryanthes) the orchid has its lower lip enlarged into a
+bucket, above which stand two water-secreting horns.  These latter
+replenish the bucket, from which, when half-filled, the water
+overflows by a spout on one side.  Bees visiting the flower fall into
+the bucket and crawl out at the spout.  By the peculiar arrangement
+of the parts of the flower, the first bee which does so, carries away
+the pollen mass glued to his back, and then when he has his next
+involuntary bath in another flower, as he crawls out, the pollen
+attached to him comes in contact with the stigma of that second
+flower and fertilises it.  In the other example (catasetum), when a
+bee gnaws a certain part of the flower, he inevitably touches a long
+delicate projection which Mr. Darwin calls the 'antenna.'  'This
+antenna transmits a vibration to a membrane which is instantly
+ruptured; this sets free a spring by which the pollen mass is shot
+forth like an arrow in the right direction, and adheres by its viscid
+extremity to the back of the bee'" ("Genesis of Species," p. 63).
+
+No one can tell a story so charmingly as Mr. Darwin, but I can no
+more believe that all this has come about without design on the part
+of the orchid, and a gradual perception of the advantages it is able
+to take over the bee, and a righteous determination to enjoy them,
+than I can believe that a mousetrap or a steam-engine is the result
+of the accumulation of blind minute fortuitous variations in a
+creature called man, which creature has never wanted either
+mousetraps or steam-engines, but has had a sort of promiscuous
+tendency to make them, and was benefited by making them, so that
+those of the race who had a tendency to make them survived and left
+issue, which issue would thus naturally tend to make more mousetraps
+and more steam-engines.
+
+Pursuing this idea still further, can we for a moment believe that
+these additions to our limbs--for this is what they are--have mainly
+come about through the occasional birth of individuals, who, without
+design on their own parts, nevertheless made them better or worse,
+and who, accordingly, either survived and transmitted their
+improvement, or perished, they and their incapacity together?
+
+When I can believe in this, then--and not till then--can I believe in
+an origin of species which does not resolve itself mainly into sense
+of need, faith, intelligence, and memory.  Then, and not till then,
+can I believe that such organs as the eye and ear can have arisen in
+any other way than as the result of that kind of mental ingenuity,
+and of moral as well as physical capacity, without which, till then,
+I should have considered such an invention as the steam-engine to be
+impossible.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV--MR. MIVART AND MR. DARWIN
+
+
+
+"A distinguished zoologist, Mr. St. George Mivart," writes Mr.
+Darwin, "has recently collected all the objections which have ever
+been advanced by myself and others against the theory of natural
+selection, as propounded by Mr. Wallace and myself, and has
+illustrated them with admirable art and force ("Natural Selection,"
+p. 176, ed. 1876).  I have already referred the reader to Mr.
+Mivart's work, but quote the above passage as showing that Mr. Mivart
+will not, probably, be found to have left much unsaid that would
+appear to make against Mr. Darwin's theory.  It is incumbent upon me
+both to see how far Mr. Mivart's objections are weighty as against
+Mr. Darwin, and also whether or not they tell with equal force
+against the view which I am myself advocating.  I will therefore
+touch briefly upon the most important of them, with the purpose of
+showing that they are serious as against the doctrine that small
+fortuitous variations are the origin of species, but that they have
+no force against evolution as guided by intelligence and memory.
+
+But before doing this, I would demur to the words used by Mr. Darwin,
+and just quoted above, namely, "the theory of natural selection."  I
+imagine that I see in them the fallacy which I believe to run through
+almost all Mr. Darwin's work, namely, that "natural selection" is a
+theory (if, indeed, it can be a theory at all), in some way
+accounting for the origin of variation, and so of species--"natural
+selection," as we have already seen, being unable to "induce
+variability," and being only able to accumulate what--on the occasion
+of each successive variation, and so during the whole process--must
+have been originated by something else.
+
+Again, Mr. Darwin writes--"In considering the origin of species it is
+quite conceivable that a naturalist, reflecting on the mutual
+affinities of organic beings, or their embryological relations, their
+geographical distribution, geological succession, and other such
+facts, might come to the conclusion that species had not been
+independently created, but had descended, like varieties from other
+species.  Nevertheless, such a conclusion, even if well founded,
+would be unsatisfactory, until it could be shown how the innumerable
+species inhabiting this world had been modified, so as to acquire
+that perfection of structure and co-adaptation which justly excites
+our admiration" ("Origin of Species," p. 2, ed. 1876).
+
+After reading the above we feel that nothing more satisfactory could
+be desired.  We are sure that we are in the hands of one who can
+indeed tell us "how the innumerable species inhabiting this world
+have been modified," and we are no less sure that though others may
+have written upon the subject before, there has been, as yet, no
+satisfactory explanation put forward of the grand principle upon
+which modification has proceeded.  Then follows a delightful volume,
+with facts upon facts concerning animals, all showing that species is
+due to successive small modifications accumulated in the course of
+nature.  But one cannot suppose that Lamarck ever doubted this; for
+he can never have meant to say, that a low form of life made itself
+into an elephant at one or two great bounds; and if he did not mean
+this, he must have meant that it made itself into an elephant through
+the accumulation of small successive modifications; these, he must
+have seen, were capable of accumulation in the scheme of nature,
+though he may not have dwelt on the manner in which this is
+accomplished, inasmuch as it is obviously a matter of secondary
+importance in comparison with the origin of the variations
+themselves.  We believe, however, throughout Mr. Darwin's book, that
+we are being told what we expected to be told; and so convinced are
+we, by the facts adduced, that in some way or other evolution must be
+true, and so grateful are we for being allowed to think this, that we
+put down the volume without perceiving that, whereas Lamarck DID
+adduce a great and general cause of variation, the insufficiency of
+which, in spite of errors of detail, has yet to be shown, Mr.
+Darwin's main cause of variation resolves itself into a confession of
+ignorance.
+
+This, however, should detract but little from our admiration for Mr.
+Darwin's achievement.  Any one can make people see a thing if he puts
+it in the right way, but Mr. Darwin made us see evolution, in spite
+of his having put it, in what seems to not a few, an exceedingly
+mistaken way.  Yet his triumph is complete, for no matter how much
+any one now moves the foundation, he cannot shake the superstructure,
+which has become so currently accepted as to be above the need of any
+support from reason, and to be as difficult to destroy as it was
+originally difficult of construction.  Less than twenty years ago, we
+never met with, or heard of, any one who accepted evolution; we did
+not even know that such a doctrine had been ever broached; unless it
+was that some one now and again said that there was a very dreadful
+book going about like a rampant lion, called "Vestiges of Creation,"
+whereon we said that we would on no account read it, lest it should
+shake our faith; then we would shake our heads and talk of the
+preposterous folly and wickedness of such shallow speculations.  Had
+not the book of Genesis been written for our learning?  Yet, now, who
+seriously disputes the main principles of evolution?  I cannot
+believe that there is a bishop on the bench at this moment who does
+not accept them; even the "holy priests" themselves bless evolution
+as their predecessors blessed Cleopatra--when they ought not.  It is
+not he who first conceives an idea, nor he who sets it on its legs
+and makes it go on all fours, but he who makes other people accept
+the main conclusion, whether on right grounds or on wrong ones, who
+has done the greatest work as regards the promulgation of an opinion.
+And this is what Mr. Darwin has done for evolution.  He has made us
+think that we know the origin of species, and so of genera, in spite
+of his utmost efforts to assure us that we know nothing of the causes
+from which the vast majority of modifications have arisen--that is to
+say, he has made us think we know the whole road, though he has
+almost ostentatiously blindfolded us at every step of the journey.
+But to the end of time, if the question be asked, "Who taught people
+to believe in evolution?" there can only be one answer--that it was
+Mr. Darwin.
+
+Mr. Mivart urges with much force the difficulty of STARTING any
+modification on which "natural selection" is to work, and of getting
+a creature to vary in any definite direction.  Thus, after quoting
+from Mr. Wallace some of the wonderful cases of "mimicry" which are
+to be found among insects, he writes:-
+
+"Now, let us suppose that the ancestors of these various animals were
+all destitute of the very special protection they at present possess,
+as on the Darwinian hypothesis we must do.  Let it be also conceded
+that small deviations from the antecedent colouring or form would
+tend to make some of their ancestors escape destruction, by causing
+them more or less frequently to be passed over or mistaken by their
+persecutors.  Yet the deviation must, as the event has shown, in each
+case, be in some definite direction, whether it be towards some other
+animal or plant, or towards some dead or inorganic matter.  But as,
+according to Mr. Darwin's theory, there is a constant tendency to
+indefinite variation, and as the minute incipient variations will be
+IN ALL DIRECTIONS, they must tend to neutralise each other, and at
+first to form such unstable modifications, that it is difficult, if
+not impossible, to see how such indefinite modifications of
+insignificant beginnings can ever build up a sufficiently appreciable
+resemblance to a leaf, bamboo, or other object for "natural
+selection," to seize upon and perpetuate.  This difficulty is
+augmented when we consider--a point to be dwelt upon hereafter--how
+necessary it is that many individuals should be similarly modified
+simultaneously.  This has been insisted on in an able article in the
+'North British Review' for June 1867, p. 286, and the consideration
+of the article has occasioned Mr. Darwin" ("Origin of Species," 5th
+ed., p. 104) "to make an important modification in his views
+("Genesis of Species," p. 38).
+
+To this Mr. Darwin rejoins:-
+
+"But in all the foregoing cases the insects in their original state,
+no doubt, presented some rude and accidental resemblance to an object
+commonly found in the stations frequented by them.  Nor is this
+improbable, considering the almost infinite number of surrounding
+objects, and the diversity of form and colour of the host of insects
+that exist" ("Natural Selection," p. 182, ed. 1876).
+
+Mr. Mivart has just said:  "It is difficult to see how such
+indefinite modifications of insignificant beginnings CAN EVER BUILD
+UP A SUFFICIENTLY APPRECIABLE RESEMBLANCE TO A LEAF, BAMBOO, OR OTHER
+OBJECT, FOR 'NATURAL SELECTION' TO WORK UPON."
+
+The answer is, that "natural selection" did not begin to work UNTIL,
+FROM UNKNOWN CAUSES, AN APPRECIABLE RESEMBLANCE HAD NEVERTHELESS BEEN
+PRESENTED.  I think the reader will agree with me that the
+development of the lowest life into a creature which bears even "a
+rude resemblance" to the objects commonly found in the station in
+which it is moving in its present differentiation, requires more
+explanation than is given by the word "accidental."
+
+Mr. Darwin continues:  "As some rude resemblance is necessary for the
+first start," &c.; and a little lower he writes:  "Assuming that an
+insect originally happened to resemble in some degree a dead twig or
+a decayed leaf, and that it varied slightly in many ways, then all
+the variations which rendered the insect at all more like any such
+object, and thus favoured its escape, would be preserved, while other
+variations would be neglected, and ultimately lost, or if they
+rendered the insect at all less like the imitated object, they would
+be eliminated."
+
+But here, again, we are required to begin with Natural Selection when
+the work is already in great part done, owing to causes about which
+we are left completely in the dark; we may, I think, fairly demur to
+the insects ORIGINALLY happening to resemble in some degree a dead
+twig or a decayed leaf.  And when we bear in mind that the
+variations, being supposed by Mr. Darwin to be indefinite, or devoid
+of aim, will appear in every direction, we cannot forget what Mr.
+Mivart insists upon, namely, that the chances of many favourable
+variations being counteracted by other unfavourable ones in the same
+creature are not inconsiderable.  Nor, again, is it likely that the
+favourable variation would make its mark upon the race, and escape
+being absorbed in the course of a few generations, unless--as Mr.
+Mivart elsewhere points out, in a passage to which I shall call the
+reader's attention presently--a larger number of similarly varying
+creatures made their appearance at the same time than there seems
+sufficient reason to anticipate, if the variations can be called
+fortuitous.
+
+"There would," continues Mr. Darwin, "indeed be force in Mr. Mivart's
+objection if we were to attempt to account for the above
+resemblances, independently of 'natural selection,' through mere
+fluctuating variability; but as the case stands, there is none."
+
+This comes to saying that, if there was no power in nature which
+operates so that of all the many fluctuating variations, those only
+are preserved which tend to the resemblance which is beneficial to
+the creature, then indeed there would be difficulty in understanding
+how the resemblance could have come about; but that as there is a
+beneficial resemblance to start with, and as there is a power in
+nature which would preserve and accumulate further beneficial
+resemblance, should it arise from this cause or that, the difficulty
+is removed.  But Mr. Mivart does not, I take it, deny the existence
+of such a power in nature, as Mr. Darwin supposes, though, if I
+understand him rightly, he does not see that its operation UPON SMALL
+FORTUITOUS VARIATIONS is at all the simple and obvious process, which
+on a superficial view of the case it would appear to be.  He thinks--
+and I believe the reader will agree with him--that this process is
+too slow and too risky.  What he wants to know is, how the insect
+came even rudely to resemble the object, and how, if its variations
+are indefinite, we are ever to get into such a condition as to be
+able to report progress, owing to the constant liability of the
+creature which has varied favourably, to play the part of Penelope
+and undo its work, by varying in some one of the infinite number of
+other directions which are open to it--all of which, except this one,
+tend to destroy the resemblance, and yet may be in some other respect
+even more advantageous to the creature, and so tend to its
+preservation.  Moreover, here, too, I think (though I cannot be
+sure), we have a recurrence of the original fallacy in the words--"If
+we were to account for the above resemblances, independently of
+'natural selection,' through mere fluctuating variability."  Surely
+Mr. Darwin does, after all, "account for the resemblances through
+mere fluctuating variability," for "natural selection" does not
+account for one single variation in the whole list of them from first
+to last, other than indirectly, as shewn in the preceding chapter.
+
+It is impossible for me to continue this subject further; but I would
+beg the reader to refer to other paragraphs in the neighbourhood of
+the one just quoted, in which he may--though I do not think he will--
+see reason to think that I should have given Mr. Darwin's answer more
+fully.  I do not quote Mr. Darwin's next paragraph, inasmuch as I see
+no great difficulty about "the last touches of perfection in
+mimicry," provided Mr. Darwin's theory will account for any mimicry
+at all.  If it could do this, it might as well do more; but a strong
+impression is left on my mind, that without the help of something
+over and above the power to vary, which should give a definite aim to
+variations, all the "natural selection" in the world would not have
+prevented stagnation and self-stultification, owing to the indefinite
+tendency of the variations, which thus could not have developed
+either a preyer or a preyee, but would have gone round and round and
+round the primordial cell till they were weary of it.
+
+As against Mr. Darwin, therefore, I think that the objection just
+given from Mr. Mivart is fatal.  I believe, also, that the reader
+will feel the force of it much more strongly if he will turn to Mr.
+Mivart's own pages.  Against the view which I am myself supporting,
+the objection breaks down entirely, for grant "a little dose of
+judgement and reason" on the part of the creature itself--grant also
+continued personality and memory--and a definite tendency is at once
+given to the variations.  The process is thus started, and is kept
+straight, and helped forward through every stage by "the little dose
+of reason," &c., which enabled it to take its first step.  We are, in
+fact, no longer without a helm, but can steer each creature that is
+so discontented with its condition, as to make a serious effort to
+better itself, into SOME--and into a very distant--harbour.
+
+
+It has been objected against Mr. Darwin's theory that if all species
+and genera have come to differ through the accumulation of minute
+but--as a general rule--fortuitous variations, there has not been
+time enough, so far as we are able to gather, for the evolution of
+all existing forms by so slow a process.  On this subject I would
+again refer the reader to Mr. Mivart's book, from which I take the
+following:-
+
+"Sir William Thompson has lately advanced arguments from three
+distinct lines of inquiry agreeing in one approximate result.  The
+three lines of inquiry are--(1) the action of the tides upon the
+earth's rotation; (2) the probable length of time during which the
+sun has illuminated this planet; and (3) the temperature of the
+interior of the earth.  The result arrived at by these investigations
+is a conclusion that the existing state of things on the earth, life
+on the earth, all geological history showing continuity of life, must
+be limited within some such period of past time as one hundred
+million years.  The first question which suggests itself, supposing
+Sir W. Thompson's views to be correct, is:  Has this period been
+anything like enough for the evolution of all organic forms by
+'natural selection'?  The second is:  Has the period been anything
+like enough for the deposition of the strata which must have been
+deposited if all organic forms have been evolved by minute steps,
+according to the Darwinian theory?"  ("Genesis of Species," p. 154).
+
+Mr. Mivart then quotes from Mr. Murphy--whose work I have not seen--
+the following passage:-
+
+"Darwin justly mentions the greyhound as being equal to any natural
+species in the perfect co-ordination of its parts, 'all adapted for
+extreme fleetness and for running down weak prey.'  Yet it is an
+artificial species (and not physiologically a species at all) formed
+by a long-continued selection under domestication; and there is no
+reason to suppose that any of the variations which have been selected
+to form it have been other than gradual and almost imperceptible.
+Suppose that it has taken five hundred years to form the greyhound
+out of his wolf-like ancestor.  This is a mere guess, but it gives
+the order of magnitude.  Now, if so, how long would it take to obtain
+an elephant from a protozoon or even from a tadpole-like fish?  Ought
+it not to take much more than a million times as long?"  ("Genesis of
+Species," p. 155).
+
+I should be very sorry to pronounce any opinion upon the foregoing
+data; but a general impression is left upon my mind, that if the
+differences between an elephant and a tadpole-like fish have arisen
+from the accumulation of small variations that have had no direction
+given them by intelligence and sense of needs, then no time
+conceivable by man would suffice for their development.  But grant "a
+little dose of reason and judgement," even to animals low down in the
+scale of nature, and grant this, not only during their later life,
+but during their embryological existence, and see with what
+infinitely greater precision of aim and with what increased speed the
+variations would arise.  Evolution entirely unaided by inherent
+intelligence must be a very slow, if not quite inconceivable,
+process.  Evolution helped by intelligence would still be slow, but
+not so desperately slow.  One can conceive that there has been
+sufficient time for the second, but one cannot conceive it for the
+first.
+
+
+I find from Mr. Mivart that objection has been taken to Mr. Darwin's
+views, on account of the great odds that exist against the appearance
+of any given variation at one and the same time, in a sufficient
+number of individuals, to prevent its being obliterated almost as
+soon as produced by the admixture of unvaried blood which would so
+greatly preponderate around it; and indeed the necessity for a nearly
+simultaneous and similar variation, or readiness so to vary on the
+part of many individuals, seems almost a postulate for evolution at
+all.  On this subject Mr. Mivart writes:-
+
+"The 'North British Review' (speaking of the supposition that species
+is changed by the survival of a few individuals in a century through
+a similar and favourable variation) says -
+
+"'It is very difficult to see how this can be accomplished, even when
+the variation is eminently favourable indeed; and still more, when
+the advantage gained is very slight, as must generally be the case.
+The advantage, whatever it may be, is utterly outbalanced by
+numerical inferiority.  A million creatures are born; ten thousand
+survive to produce offspring.  One of the million has twice as good a
+chance as any other of surviving, but the chances are fifty to one
+against the gifted individuals being one of the hundred survivors.
+No doubt the chances are twice as great against any other individual,
+but this does not prevent their being enormously in favour of SOME
+average individual.  However slight the advantage may be, if it is
+shared by half the individuals produced, it will probably be present
+in at least fifty-one of the survivors, and in a larger proportion of
+their offspring; but the chances are against the preservation of any
+one "sport" (i.e., sudden marked variation) in a numerous tribe.  The
+vague use of an imperfectly-understood doctrine of chance, has led
+Darwinian supporters, first, to confuse the two cases above
+distinguished, and secondly, to imagine that a very slight balance in
+favour of some individual sport must lead to its perpetuation.  All
+that can be said is that in the above example the favoured sport
+would be preserved once in fifty times.  Let us consider what will be
+its influence on the main stock when preserved.  It will breed and
+have a progeny of say 100; now this progeny will, on the whole, be
+intermediate between the average individual and the sport.  The odds
+in favour of one of this generation of the new breed will be, say one
+and a half to one, as compared with the average individual; the odds
+in their favour will, therefore, be less than that of their parents;
+but owing to their greater number the chances are that about one and
+a half of them would survive.  Unless these breed together--a most
+improbable event--their progeny would again approach the average
+individual; there would be 150 of them, and their superiority would
+be, say in the ratio of one and a quarter to one; the probability
+would now be that nearly two of them would survive, and have 200
+children with an eighth superiority.  Rather more than two of these
+would survive; but the superiority would again dwindle; until after a
+few generations it would no longer be observed, and would count for
+no more in the struggle for life than any of the hundred trifling
+advantages which occur in the ordinary organs.
+
+"'An illustration will bring this conception home.  Suppose a white
+man to have been wrecked on an island inhabited by negroes, and to
+have established himself in friendly relations with a powerful tribe,
+whose customs he has learnt.  Suppose him to possess the physical
+strength, energy, and ability of a dominant white race, and let the
+food of the island suit his constitution; grant him every advantage
+which we can conceive a white to possess over the native; concede
+that in the struggle for existence, his chance of a long life will be
+much superior to that of the native chiefs; yet from all these
+admissions there does not follow the conclusion, that after a limited
+or unlimited number of generations, the inhabitants of the island
+will be white.  Our shipwrecked hero would probably become king; he
+would kill a great many blacks in the struggle for existence; he
+would have a great many wives and children . . . In the first
+generation there will be some dozens of intelligent young mulattoes,
+much superior in average intelligence to the negroes.  We might
+expect the throne for some generations to be occupied by a more or
+less yellow king; but can any one believe that the whole island will
+gradually acquire a white, or even a yellow population? . . . Darwin
+says, that in the struggle for life a grain may turn the balance in
+favour of a given structure, which will then be preserved.  But one
+of the weights in the scale of nature is due to the number of a given
+tribe.  Let there be 7000 A's and 7000 B's representing two varieties
+of a given animal, and let all the B's, in virtue of a slight
+difference of structure, have the better chance by one-thousandth
+part.  We must allow that there is a slight probability that the
+descendants of B will supplant the descendants of A; but let there be
+7001 A's against 7000 B's at first, and the chances are once more
+equal, while if there be 7002 A's to start, the odds would be laid on
+the A's.  Thus they stand a greater chance of being killed; but,
+then, they can better afford to be killed.  The grain will only turn
+the scales when these are very nicely balanced, and an advantage in
+numbers counts for weight, even as an advantage in structure.  As the
+numbers of the favoured variety diminish, so must its relative
+advantages increase, if the chance of its existence is to surpass the
+chance of its extinction, until hardly any conceivable advantage
+would enable the descendants of a single pair to exterminate the
+descendants of many thousands, if they and their descendants are
+supposed to breed freely with the inferior variety, and so gradually
+lose their ascendancy,'" ("North British Review," June 1867, p. 286
+"Genesis of Species," p. 64, and onwards).
+
+Against this it should be remembered that there is always an
+antecedent probability that several specimens of a given variation
+would appear at one time and place.  This would probably be the case
+even on Mr. Darwin's hypothesis, that the variations are fortuitous;
+if they are mainly guided by sense of need and intelligence, it would
+almost certainly be so, for all would have much the same idea as to
+their well-being, and the same cause which would lead one to vary in
+this direction would lead not a few others to do so at the same time,
+or to follow suit.  Thus we see that many human ideas and inventions
+have been conceived independently but simultaneously.  The chances,
+moreover, of specimens that have varied successfully, intermarrying,
+are, I think, greater than the reviewer above quoted from would
+admit.  I believe that on the hypothesis that the variations are
+fortuitous, and certainly on the supposition that they are
+intelligent, they might be looked for in members of the same family,
+who would hence have a better chance of finding each other out.
+Serious as is the difficulty advanced by the reviewer as against Mr.
+Darwin's theory, it may be in great measure parried without departing
+from Mr. Darwin's own position, but the "little dose of judgement and
+reason" removes it, absolutely and entirely.  As for the reviewer's
+shipwrecked hero, surely the reviewer must know that Mr. Darwin would
+no more expect an island of black men to be turned white, or even
+perceptibly whitened after a few generations, than the reviewer
+himself would do so.  But if we turn from what "might" or what
+"would" happen to what "does" happen, we find that a few white
+families have nearly driven the Indian from the United States, the
+Australian natives from Australia, and the Maories from New Zealand.
+True, these few families have been helped by immigration; but it will
+be admitted that this has only accelerated a result which would
+otherwise, none the less surely, have been effected.
+
+There is all the difference between a sudden sport, or even a variety
+introduced from a foreign source, and the gradual, intelligent, and,
+in the main, steady, growth of a race towards ends always a little,
+but not much, in advance of what it can at present compass, until it
+has reached equilibrium with its surroundings.  So far as Mr.
+Darwin's variations are of the nature of "sport," i.e., rare, and
+owing to nothing that we can in the least assign to any known cause,
+the reviewer's objections carry much weight.  Against the view here
+advocated, they are powerless.
+
+I cannot here go into the difficulties of the geologic record, but
+they too will, I believe, be felt to be almost infinitely simplified
+by supposing the development of structure and instinct to be guided
+by intelligence and memory, which, even under unstable conditions,
+would be able to meet in some measure the demands made upon them.
+
+When Mr. Mivart deals with evolution and ethics, I am afraid that I
+differ from him even more widely than I have done from Mr. Darwin.
+He writes ("Genesis of Species," p. 234):  "That 'natural selection'
+could not have produced from the sensations of pleasure and pain
+experienced by brutes a higher degree of morality than was useful;
+therefore it could have produced any amount of 'beneficial habits,'
+but not abhorrence of certain acts as impure and sinful."
+
+Possibly "natural selection" may not be able to do much in the way of
+accumulating variations that do not arise; but that, according to the
+views supported in this volume, all that is highest and most
+beautiful in the soul, as well as in the body, could be, and has
+been, developed from beings lower than man, I do not greatly doubt.
+Mr. Mivart and myself should probably differ as to what is and what
+is not beautiful.  Thus he writes of "the noble virtue of a Marcus
+Aurelius" (p. 235), than whom, for my own part, I know few
+respectable figures in history to whom I am less attracted.  I cannot
+but think that Mr. Mivart has taken his estimate of this emperor at
+second-hand, and without reference to the writings which happily
+enable us to form a fair estimate of his real character.
+
+Take the opening paragraphs of the "Thoughts" of Marcus Aurelius, as
+translated by Mr. Long:-
+
+"From the reputation and remembrance of my father [I learned] modesty
+and a manly character; from my mother, piety and beneficence,
+abstinence not only from evil deeds, but even from evil thoughts. . .
+.  From my great-grandfather, not to have frequented public schools,
+and to have had good teachers at home, and to know that on such
+things a man should spend liberally . . . From Diognetus . . . [I
+learned] to have become intimate with philosophy, . . . and to have
+written dialogues in my youth, and to have desired a plank bed and
+skin, and whatever else of the kind belongs to the Greek discipline.
+. . .  From Rusticus I received the impression that my character
+required improvement and discipline;" and so on to the end of the
+chapter, near which, however, it is right to say that there appears a
+redeeming touch, in so far as that he thanks the gods that he could
+not write poetry, and that he had never occupied himself about the
+appearance of things in the heavens.
+
+Or, again, opening Mr. Long's translation at random I find (p. 37):-
+
+"As physicians have always their instruments and knives ready for
+cases which suddenly require their skill, so do thou have principles
+ready for the understanding of things divine and human, and for doing
+everything, even the smallest, with a recollection of the bond that
+unites the divine and human to one another.  For neither wilt thou do
+anything well which pertains to man without at the same time having a
+reference to things divine; nor the contrary."
+
+Unhappy one!  No wonder the Roman empire went to pieces soon after
+him.  If I remember rightly, he established and subsidised
+professorships in all parts of his dominions.  Whereon the same
+befell the arts and literature of Rome as befell Italian painting
+after the Academic system had taken root at Bologna under the
+Caracci.  Mr. Martin Tupper, again, is an amiable and well-meaning
+man, but we should hardly like to see him in Lord Beaconsfield's
+place.  The Athenians poisoned Socrates; and Aristophanes--than whom
+few more profoundly religious men have ever been born--did not, so
+far as we can gather, think the worse of his countrymen on that
+account.  It is not improbable that if they had poisoned Plato too,
+Aristophanes would have been well enough pleased; but I think he
+would have preferred either of these two men to Marcus Aurelius.
+
+I know nothing about the loving but manly devotion of a St. Lewis,
+but I strongly suspect that Mr. Mivart has taken him, too, upon
+hearsay.
+
+On the other hand, among dogs we find examples of every heroic
+quality, and of all that is most perfectly charming to us in man.
+
+As for the possible development of the more brutal human natures from
+the more brutal instincts of the lower animals, those who read a
+horrible story told in a note, pp. 233, 234 of Mr. Mivart's "Genesis
+of Species," will feel no difficulty on that score.  I must admit,
+however, that the telling of that story seems to me to be a mistake
+in a philosophical work, which should not, I think, unless under
+compulsion, deal either with the horrors of the French Revolution--or
+of the Spanish or Italian Inquisition.
+
+For the rest of Mr. Mivart's objections, I must refer the reader to
+his own work.  I have been unable to find a single one, which I do
+not believe to be easily met by the Lamarckian view, with the
+additions (if indeed they are additions, for I must own to no very
+profound knowledge of what Lamarck did or did not say), which I have
+in this volume proposed to make to it.  At the same time I admit,
+that as against the Darwinian view, many of them seem quite
+unanswerable.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XV--CONCLUDING REMARKS
+
+
+
+Here, then, I leave my case, though well aware that I have crossed
+the threshold only of my subject.  My work is of a tentative
+character, put before the public as a sketch or design for a,
+possibly, further endeavour, in which I hope to derive assistance
+from the criticisms which this present volume may elicit.  Such as it
+is, however, for the present I must leave it.
+
+We have seen that we cannot do anything thoroughly till we can do it
+unconsciously, and that we cannot do anything unconsciously till we
+can do it thoroughly; this at first seems illogical; but logic and
+consistency are luxuries for the gods, and the lower animals, only.
+Thus a boy cannot really know how to swim till he can swim, but he
+cannot swim till he knows how to swim.  Conscious effort is but the
+process of rubbing off the rough corners from these two contradictory
+statements, till they eventually fit into one another so closely that
+it is impossible to disjoin them.
+
+Whenever, therefore, we see any creature able to go through any
+complicated and difficult process with little or no effort--whether
+it be a bird building her nest, or a hen's egg making itself into a
+chicken, or an ovum turning itself into a baby--we may conclude that
+the creature has done the same thing on a very great number of past
+occasions.
+
+We found the phenomena exhibited by heredity to be so like those of
+memory, and to be so utterly inexplicable on any other supposition,
+that it was easier to suppose them due to memory in spite of the fact
+that we cannot remember having recollected, than to believe that
+because we cannot so remember, therefore the phenomena cannot be due
+to memory.
+
+We were thus led to consider "personal identity," in order to see
+whether there was sufficient reason for denying that the experience,
+which we must have clearly gained somewhere, was gained by us when we
+were in the persons of our forefathers; we found, not without
+surprise, that unless we admitted that it might be so gained, in so
+far as that we once ACTUALLY WERE our remotest ancestor, we must
+change our ideas concerning personality altogether.
+
+We therefore assumed that the phenomena of heredity, whether as
+regards instinct or structure were mainly due to memory of past
+experiences, accumulated and fused till they had become automatic, or
+quasi automatic, much in the same way as after a long life -
+
+
+. .  "Old experience do attain
+To something like prophetic strain."
+
+
+After dealing with certain phenomena of memory, but more especially
+with its abeyance and revival, we inquired what the principal
+corresponding phenomena of life and species should be, on the
+hypothesis that they were mainly due to memory.
+
+I think I may say that we found the hypothesis fit in with actual
+facts in a sufficiently satisfactory manner.  We found not a few
+matters, as, for example, the sterility of hybrids, the phenomena of
+old age, and puberty as generally near the end of development,
+explain themselves with more completeness than I have yet heard of
+their being explained on any other hypothesis.
+
+We considered the most important difficulty in the way of instinct as
+hereditary habit, namely, the structure and instincts of neuter
+insects; these are very unlike those of their parents, and cannot
+apparently be transmitted to offspring by individuals of the previous
+generation, in whom such structure and instincts appeared, inasmuch
+as these creatures are sterile.  I do not say that the difficulty is
+wholly removed, inasmuch as some obscurity must be admitted to remain
+as to the manner in which the structure of the larva is aborted; this
+obscurity is likely to remain till we know more of the early history
+of civilisation among bees than I can find that we know at present;
+but I believe the difficulty was reduced to such proportions as to
+make it little likely to be felt in comparison with that of
+attributing instinct to any other cause than inherited habit, or
+inherited habit modified by changed conditions.
+
+We then inquired what was the great principle underlying variation,
+and answered, with Lamarck, that it must be "sense of need;" and
+though not without being haunted by suspicion of a vicious circle,
+and also well aware that we were not much nearer the origin of life
+than when we started, we still concluded that here was the truest
+origin of species, and hence of genera; and that the accumulation of
+variations, which in time amounted to specific and generic
+differences, was due to intelligence and memory on the part of the
+creature varying, rather than to the operation of what Mr. Darwin has
+called "natural selection."  At the same time we admitted that the
+course of nature is very much as Mr. Darwin has represented it, in
+this respect, in so far as that there is a struggle for existence,
+and that the weaker must go to the wall.  But we denied that this
+part of the course of nature would lead to much, if any, accumulation
+of variation, unless the variation was directed mainly by intelligent
+sense of need, with continued personality and memory.
+
+We conclude, therefore, that the small, structureless, impregnate
+ovum from which we have each one of us sprung, has a potential
+recollection of all that has happened to each one of its ancestors
+prior to the period at which any such ancestor has issued from the
+bodies of its progenitors--provided, that is to say, a sufficiently
+deep, or sufficiently often-repeated, impression has been made to
+admit of its being remembered at all.
+
+Each step of normal development will lead the impregnate ovum up to,
+and remind it of, its next ordinary course of action, in the same way
+as we, when we recite a well-known passage, are led up to each
+successive sentence by the sentence which has immediately preceded
+it.
+
+And for this reason, namely, that as it takes two people "to tell" a
+thing--a speaker and a comprehending listener, without which last,
+though much may have been said, there has been nothing told--so also
+it takes two people, as it were, to "remember" a thing--the creature
+remembering, and the surroundings of the creature at the time it last
+remembered.  Hence, though the ovum immediately after impregnation is
+instinct with all the memories of both parents, not one of these
+memories can normally become active till both the ovum itself, and
+its surroundings, are sufficiently like what they respectively were,
+when the occurrence now to be remembered last took place.  The memory
+will then immediately return, and the creature will do as it did on
+the last occasion that it was in like case as now.  This ensures that
+similarity of order shall be preserved in all the stages of
+development, in successive generations.
+
+Life, then, is faith founded upon experience, which experience is in
+its turn founded upon faith--or more simply, it is memory.  Plants
+and animals only differ from one another because they remember
+different things; plants and animals only grow up in the shapes they
+assume because this shape is their memory, their idea concerning
+their own past history.
+
+Hence the term "Natural History," as applied to the different plants
+and animals around us.  For surely the study of natural history means
+only the study of plants and animals themselves, which, at the moment
+of using the words "Natural History," we assume to be the most
+important part of nature.
+
+A living creature well supported by a mass of healthy ancestral
+memory is a young and growing creature, free from ache or pain, and
+thoroughly acquainted with its business so far, but with much yet to
+be reminded of.  A creature which finds itself and its surroundings
+not so unlike those of its parents about the time of their begetting
+it, as to be compelled to recognise that it never yet was in any such
+position, is a creature in the heyday of life.  A creature which
+begins to be aware of itself is one which is beginning to recognise
+that the situation is a new one.
+
+It is the young and fair, then, who are the truly old and the truly
+experienced; it is they who alone have a trustworthy memory to guide
+them; they alone know things as they are, and it is from them that,
+as we grow older, we must study if we would still cling to truth.
+The whole charm of youth lies in its advantage over age in respect of
+experience, and where this has for some reason failed, or been
+misapplied, the charm is broken.  When we say that we are getting
+old, we should say rather that we are getting new or young, and are
+suffering from inexperience, which drives us into doing things which
+we do not understand, and lands us, eventually, in the utter
+impotence of death.  The kingdom of heaven is the kingdom of little
+children.
+
+A living creature bereft of all memory dies.  If bereft of a great
+part of memory, it swoons or sleeps; and when its memory returns, we
+say it has returned to life.
+
+Life and death, then, should be memory and forgetfulness, for we are
+dead to all that we have forgotten.
+
+Life is that property of matter whereby it can remember.  Matter
+which can remember is living; matter which cannot remember is dead.
+
+LIFE, THEN, IS MEMORY.  The life of a creature is the memory of a
+creature.  We are all the same stuff to start with, but we remember
+different things, and if we did not remember different things we
+should be absolutely like each other.  As for the stuff itself of
+which we are made, we know nothing
+save only that it is "such as dreams are made of."
+
+I am aware that there are many expressions throughout this book,
+which are not scientifically accurate.  Thus I imply that we tend
+towards the centre of the earth, when, I believe, I should say we
+tend towards to the centre of gravity of the earth.  I speak of "the
+primordial cell," when I mean only the earliest form of life, and I
+thus not only assume a single origin of life when there is no
+necessity for doing so, and perhaps no evidence to this effect, but I
+do so in spite of the fact that the amoeba, which seems to be "the
+simplest form of life," does not appear to be a cell at all.  I have
+used the word "beget," of what, I am told, is asexual generation,
+whereas the word should be confined to sexual generation only.  Many
+more such errors have been pointed out to me, and I doubt not that a
+larger number remain of which I know nothing now, but of which I may
+perhaps be told presently.
+
+I did not, however, think that in a work of this description the
+additional words which would have been required for scientific
+accuracy were worth the paper and ink and loss of breadth which their
+introduction would entail.  Besides, I know nothing about science,
+and it is as well that there should be no mistake on this head; I
+neither know, nor want to know, more detail than is necessary to
+enable me to give a fairly broad and comprehensive view of my
+subject.  When for the purpose of giving this, a matter importunately
+insisted on being made out, I endeavoured to make it out as well as I
+could; otherwise--that is to say, if it did not insist on being
+looked into, in spite of a good deal of snubbing, I held that, as it
+was blurred and indistinct in nature, I had better so render it in my
+work.
+
+Nevertheless, if one has gone for some time through a wood full of
+burrs, some of them are bound to stick.  I am afraid that I have left
+more such burrs in one part and another of my book, than the kind of
+reader whom I alone wish to please will perhaps put up with.
+Fortunately, this kind of reader is the best-natured critic in the
+world, and is long suffering of a good deal that the more consciously
+scientific will not tolerate; I wish, however, that I had not used
+such expressions as "centres of thought and action" quite so often.
+
+As for the kind of inaccuracy already alluded to, my reader will not,
+I take it, as a general rule, know, or wish to know, much more about
+science than I do, sometimes perhaps even less; so that he and I
+shall commonly be wrong in the same places, and our two wrongs will
+make a sufficiently satisfactory right for practical purposes.
+
+Of course, if I were a specialist writing a treatise or primer on
+such and such a point of detail, I admit that scientific accuracy
+would be de rigueur; but I have been trying to paint a picture rather
+than to make a diagram, and I claim the painter's license "quidlibet
+audendi."  I have done my utmost to give the spirit of my subject,
+but if the letter interfered with the spirit, I have sacrificed it
+without remorse.
+
+May not what is commonly called a scientific subject have artistic
+value which it is a pity to neglect?  But if a subject is to be
+treated artistically--that is to say, with a desire to consider not
+only the facts, but the way in which the reader will feel concerning
+those facts, and the way in which he will wish to see them rendered,
+thus making his mind a factor of the intention, over and above the
+subject itself--then the writer must not be denied a painter's
+license.  If one is painting a hillside at a sufficient distance, and
+cannot see whether it is covered with chestnut-trees or walnuts, one
+is not bound to go across the valley to see.  If one is painting a
+city, it is not necessary that one should know the names of the
+streets.  If a house or tree stands inconveniently for one's purpose,
+it must go without more ado; if two important features, neither of
+which can be left out, want a little bringing together or separating
+before the spirit of the place can be well given, they must be
+brought together, or separated.  Which is a more truthful view, of
+Shrewsbury, for example, from a spot where St. Alkmund's spire is in
+parallax with St. Mary's--a view which should give only the one spire
+which can be seen, or one which should give them both, although the
+one is hidden?  There would be, I take it, more representation in the
+misrepresentation than in the representation--"the half would be
+greater than the whole," unless, that is to say, one expressly told
+the spectator that St. Alkmund's spire was hidden behind St. Mary's--
+a sort of explanation which seldom adds to the poetical value of any
+work of art.  Do what one may, and no matter how scientific one may
+be, one cannot attain absolute truth.  The question is rather, how do
+people like to have their error? than, will they go without any error
+at all?  All truth and no error cannot be given by the scientist more
+than by the artist; each has to sacrifice truth in one way or
+another; and even if perfect truth could be given, it is doubtful
+whether it would not resolve itself into unconsciousness pure and
+simple, consciousness being, as it were, the clash of small
+conflicting perceptions, without which there is neither intelligence
+nor recollection possible.  It is not, then, what a man has said, nor
+what he has put down with actual paint upon his canvass, which speaks
+to us with living language--IT IS WHAT HE HAS THOUGHT TO US (as is so
+well put in the letter quoted on page 83), by which our opinion
+should be guided;--what has he made us feel that he had it in him,
+and wished to do?  If he has said or painted enough to make us feel
+that he meant and felt as we should wish him to have done, he has
+done the utmost that man can hope to do.
+
+I feel sure that no additional amount of technical accuracy would
+make me more likely to succeed, in this respect, if I have otherwise
+failed; and as this is the only success about which I greatly care, I
+have left my scientific inaccuracies uncorrected, even when aware of
+them.  At the same time, I should say that I have taken all possible
+pains as regards anything which I thought could materially affect the
+argument one way or another.
+
+It may be said that I have fallen between two stools, and that the
+subject is one which, in my hands, has shown neither artistic nor
+scientific value.  This would be serious.  To fall between two
+stools, and to be hanged for a lamb, are the two crimes which -
+
+
+"Nor gods, nor men, nor any schools allow."
+
+
+Of the latter, I go in but little danger; about the former, I shall
+know better when the public have enlightened me.
+
+The practical value of the views here advanced (if they be admitted
+as true at all) would appear to be not inconsiderable, alike as
+regards politics or the well-being of the community, and medicine
+which deals with that of the individual.  In the first case we see
+the rationale of compromise, and the equal folly of making
+experiments upon too large a scale, and of not making them at all.
+We see that new ideas cannot be fused with old, save gradually and by
+patiently leading up to them in such a way as to admit of a sense of
+continued identity between the old and the new.  This should teach us
+moderation.  For even though nature wishes to travel in a certain
+direction, she insists on being allowed to take her own time; she
+will not be hurried, and will cull a creature out even more surely
+for forestalling her wishes too readily, than for lagging a little
+behind them.  So the greatest musicians, painters, and poets owe
+their greatness rather to their fusion and assimilation of all the
+good that has been done up to, and especially near about, their own
+time, than to any very startling steps they have taken in advance.
+Such men will be sure to take some, and important, steps forward; for
+unless they have this power, they will not be able to assimilate well
+what has been done already, and if they have it, their study of older
+work will almost indefinitely assist it; but, on the whole, they owe
+their greatness to their completer fusion and assimilation of older
+ideas; for nature is distinctly a fairly liberal conservative rather
+than a conservative liberal.  All which is well said in the old
+couplet -
+
+
+"Be not the first by whom the new is tried,
+Nor yet the last to throw the old aside."
+
+
+Mutatis mutandis, the above would seem to hold as truly about
+medicine as about politics.  We cannot reason with our cells, for
+they know so much more than we do that they cannot understand us;--
+but though we cannot reason with them, we can find out what they have
+been most accustomed to, and what, therefore, they are most likely to
+expect; we can see that they get this, as far as it is in our power
+to give it them, and may then generally leave the rest to them, only
+bearing in mind that they will rebel equally against too sudden a
+change of treatment, and no change at all.
+
+Friends have complained to me that they can never tell whether I am
+in jest or earnest.  I think, however, it should be sufficiently
+apparent that I am in very serious earnest, perhaps too much so, from
+the first page of my book to the last.  I am not aware of a single
+argument put forward which is not a bona fide argument, although,
+perhaps, sometimes admitting of a humorous side.  If a grain of corn
+looks like a piece of chaff, I confess I prefer it occasionally to
+something which looks like a grain, but which turns out to be a piece
+of chaff only.  There is no lack of matter of this description going
+about in some very decorous volumes; I have, therefore, endeavoured,
+for a third time, to furnish the public with a book whose fault
+should lie rather in the direction of seeming less serious than it
+is, than of being less so than it seems.
+
+At the same time, I admit that when I began to write upon my subject
+I did not seriously believe in it.  I saw, as it were, a pebble upon
+the ground, with a sheen that pleased me; taking it up, I turned it
+over and over for my amusement, and found it always grow brighter and
+brighter the more I examined it.  At length I became fascinated, and
+gave loose rein to self-illusion.  The aspect of the world seemed
+changed; the trifle which I had picked up idly had proved to be a
+talisman of inestimable value, and had opened a door through which I
+caught glimpses of a strange and interesting transformation.  Then
+came one who told me that the stone was not mine, but that it had
+been dropped by Lamarck, to whom it belonged rightfully, but who had
+lost it; whereon I said I cared not who was the owner, if only I
+might use it and enjoy it.  Now, therefore, having polished it with
+what art and care one who is no jeweller could bestow upon it, I
+return it, as best I may, to its possessor.
+
+What am I to think or say?  That I tried to deceive others till I
+have fallen a victim to my own falsehood?  Surely this is the most
+reasonable conclusion to arrive at.  Or that I have really found
+Lamarck's talisman, which had been for some time lost sight of?
+
+Will the reader bid me wake with him to a world of chance and
+blindness?  Or can I persuade him to dream with me of a more living
+faith than either he or I had as yet conceived as possible?  As I
+have said, reason points remorselessly to an awakening, but faith and
+hope still beckon to the dream.
+
+
+
+APPENDIX--AUTHOR'S ADDENDA
+
+
+
+{2}  But I may say in passing that though articulate speech and the
+power to maintain the upright position come much about the same time,
+yet the power of making gestures of more or less significance is
+prior to that of walking uprightly, and therefore to that of speech.
+Not only is gesticulation the earlier faculty in the individual, but
+it was so also in the history of our race.  Our semi-simious
+ancestors could gesticulate long before they could talk articulately.
+It is significant of this that gesture is still found easier than
+speech even by adults, as may be observed on our river steamers,
+where the captain moves his hand but does not speak, a boy
+interpreting his gesture into language.  To develop this here would
+complicate the argument; let us be content to note it and pass on.
+
+{3}  Nevertheless, the smallness of the effort touches upon the
+deepest mystery of organic life--the power to originate, to err, to
+sport, the power which differentiates the living organism from the
+machine, however complicated.  The action and working of this power
+is found to be like the action of any other mental and, therefore,
+physical power (for all physical action of living beings is but the
+expression of a mental action), but I can throw no light upon its
+origin any more than upon the origin of life.  This, too, must be
+noted and passed over.
+
+{4}  How different from the above uncertain sound is the full clear
+note of one who truly believes:-
+
+"The Church of England is commonly called a Lutheran church, but
+whoever compares it with the Lutheran churches on the Continent will
+have reason to congratulate himself on its superiority.  It is in
+fact a church sui generis, yielding in point of dignity, purity and
+decency of its doctrines, establishment and ceremonies, to no
+congregation of christians in the world; modelled to a certain and
+considerable extent, but not entirely, by our great and wise pious
+reformers on the doctrines of Luther, so far as they are in
+conformity with the sure and solid foundation on which it rests, and
+we trust for ever will rest--the authority of the Holy Scriptures,
+Jesus Christ himself being the chief corner stone."  ("Sketch of
+Modern and Ancient Geography," by Dr. Samuel Butler, of Shrewsbury.
+Ed. 1813.)
+
+This is the language of faith, compelled by the exigencies of the
+occasion to be for a short time conscious of its own existence, but
+surely very little likely to become so to the extent of feeling the
+need of any assistance from reason.  It is the language of one whose
+convictions are securely founded upon the current opinion of those
+among whom he has been born and bred; and of all merely post-natal
+faiths a faith so founded is the strongest.  It is pleasing to see
+that the only alterations in the edition of 1838 consist in spelling
+Christians with a capital C and the omission of the epithet "wise" as
+applied to the reformers, an omission more probably suggested by a
+desire for euphony than by any nascent doubts concerning the
+applicability of the epithet itself.
+
+{5}  Or take, again, the constitution of the Church of England.  The
+bishops are the spiritual queens, the clergy are the neuter workers.
+They differ widely in structure (for dress must be considered as a
+part of structure), in the delicacy of the food they eat and the kind
+of house they inhabit, and also in many of their instincts, from the
+bishops, who are their spiritual parents.  Not only this, but there
+are two distinct kinds of neuter workers--priests and deacons; and of
+the former there are deans, archdeacons, prebends, canons, rural
+deans, vicars, rectors, curates, yet all spiritually sterile.  In
+spite of this sterility, however, is there anyone who will maintain
+that the widely differing structures and instincts of these castes
+are not due to inherited spiritual habit?  Still less will he be
+inclined to do so when he reflects that by such slight modification
+of treatment as consecration and endowment any one of them can be
+rendered spiritually fertile.
+
+
+
+Footnotes:
+
+{1}  Although the original edition of "Life and Habit" is dated 1878,
+the book was actually published in December, 1877.
+
+
+
+
+
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+<html>
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+<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" />
+<title>Life and Habit</title>
+</head>
+<body>
+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">Life and Habit, by Samuel Butler</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Life and Habit, by Samuel Butler
+(#13 in our series by Samuel Butler)
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+*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****
+
+
+Title: Life and Habit
+
+Author: Samuel Butler
+
+Release Date: July, 2004  [EBook #6138]
+[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
+[This file was first posted on November 18, 2002]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1910 Jonathan Cape edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h1>LIFE AND HABIT</h1>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>PREFACE</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Since Samuel Butler published &ldquo;Life and Habit&rdquo; thirty-three
+<a name="citation1"></a><a href="#footnote1">{1}</a> years have elapsed
+- years fruitful in change and discovery, during which many of the mighty
+have been put down from their seat and many of the humble have been
+exalted.&nbsp; I do not know that Butler can truthfully be called humble,
+indeed, I think he had very few misgivings as to his ultimate triumph,
+but he has certainly been exalted with a rapidity that he himself can
+scarcely have foreseen.&nbsp; During his lifetime he was a literary
+pariah, the victim of an organized conspiracy of silence.&nbsp; He is
+now, I think it may be said without exaggeration, universally accepted
+as one of the most remarkable English writers of the latter part of
+the nineteenth century.&nbsp; I will not weary my readers by quoting
+the numerous tributes paid by distinguished contemporary writers to
+Butler&rsquo;s originality and force of mind, but I cannot refrain from
+illustrating the changed attitude of the scientific world to Butler
+and his theories by a reference to &ldquo;Darwin and Modern Science,&rdquo;
+the collection of essays published in 1909 by the University of Cambridge,
+in commemoration of the Darwin centenary.&nbsp; In that work Professor
+Bateson, while referring repeatedly to Butler&rsquo;s biological works,
+speaks of him as &ldquo;the most brilliant and by far the most interesting
+of Darwin&rsquo;s opponents, whose works are at length emerging from
+oblivion.&rdquo;&nbsp; With the growth of Butler&rsquo;s reputation
+&ldquo;Life and Habit&rdquo; has had much to do.&nbsp; It was the first
+and is undoubtedly the most important of his writings on evolution.&nbsp;
+From its loins, as it were, sprang his three later books, &ldquo;Evolution
+Old and New,&rdquo; &ldquo;Unconscious Memory,&rdquo; and &ldquo;Luck
+or Cunning&rdquo;, which carried its arguments further afield.&nbsp;
+It will perhaps interest Butler&rsquo;s readers if I here quote a passage
+from his note-books, lately published in the &ldquo;New Quarterly Review&rdquo;
+(Vol. III. No. 9), in which he summarizes his work in biology:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To me it seems that my contributions to the theory of evolution
+have been mainly these</p>
+<p>&ldquo;1.&nbsp; The identification of heredity and memory, and the
+corollaries relating to sports, the reversion to remote ancestors, the
+phenomena of old age, the causes of the sterility of hybrids, and the
+principles underlying longevity - all of which follow as a matter of
+course.&nbsp; This was &lsquo;Life and Habit&rsquo; [1877].</p>
+<p>&ldquo;2.&nbsp; The re-introduction of teleology into organic life,
+which to me seems hardly, if at all, less important than the &lsquo;Life
+and Habit&rsquo; theory.&nbsp; This was &lsquo;Evolution Old and New&rsquo;
+[1879].</p>
+<p>&ldquo;3.&nbsp; An attempt to suggest an explanation of the physics
+of memory.&nbsp; This was Unconscious Memory&rsquo; [1880].&nbsp; I
+was alarmed by the suggestion and fathered it upon Professor Hering,
+who never, that I can see, meant to say anything of the kind, but I
+forced my view upon him, as it were, by taking hold of a sentence or
+two in his lecture, &lsquo;On Memory as a Universal Function of Organised
+Matter,&rsquo; and thus connected memory with vibrations.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What I want to do now (1885) is to connect vibrations not
+only with memory but with the physical constitution of that body in
+which the memory resides, thus adopting Newland&rsquo;s law (sometimes
+called Mendelejeff&rsquo;s law) that there is only one substance, and
+that the characteristics of the vibrations going on within it at any
+given time will determine whether it will appear to us as, we will say,
+hydrogen, or sodium, or chicken doing this, or chicken doing the other.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+[This is touched upon in the concluding chapter of &ldquo;Luck or Cunning?&rdquo;
+1887].</p>
+<p>The present edition of &ldquo;Life and Habit&rdquo; is practically
+a re-issue of that of 1878.&nbsp; I find that about the year 1890, although
+the original edition was far from being exhausted, Butler began to make
+corrections of the text of &ldquo;Life and Habit,&rdquo; presumably
+with the intention of publishing a revised edition.&nbsp; The copy of
+the book so corrected is now in my possession.&nbsp; In the first five
+chapters there are numerous emendations, very few of which, however,
+affect the meaning to any appreciable extent, being mainly concerned
+with the excision of redundancies and the simplification of style.&nbsp;
+I imagine that by the time he had reached the end of the fifth chapter
+Butler realised that the corrections he had made were not of sufficient
+importance to warrant a new edition, and determined to let the book
+stand as it was.&nbsp; I believe, therefore, that I am carrying out
+his wishes in reprinting the present edition from the original plates.&nbsp;
+I have found, however, among his papers three entirely new passages,
+which he probably wrote during the period of correction and no doubt
+intended to incorporate into the revised edition.&nbsp; Mr. Henry Festing
+Jones has also given me a copy of a passage which Butler wrote and gummed
+into Mr. Jones&rsquo;s copy of &ldquo;Life and Habit.&rdquo;&nbsp; These
+four passages I have printed as an appendix at the end of the present
+volume.</p>
+<p>One more point deserves notice.&nbsp; Butler often refers in &ldquo;Life
+and Habit&rdquo; to Darwin&rsquo;s &ldquo;Variations of Animals and
+Plants under Domestication.&rdquo;&nbsp; When he does so it is always
+under the name &ldquo;Plants and Animals.&rdquo;&nbsp; More often still
+he refers to Darwin&rsquo;s &ldquo;Origin of Species by means Natural
+Selection,&rdquo; terming it at one time &ldquo;Origin of Species&rdquo;
+and at another &ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo; sometimes, as on p.
+278, using both names within a few lines of each other.&nbsp; Butler
+was as a rule scrupulously careful about quotations, and I can offer
+no explanation of this curious confusion of titles.</p>
+<p>R. A. STREATFEILD.<br /><i>November</i>, 1910.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>AUTHOR&rsquo;S PREFACE</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>The Italics in the passages quoted in this book are generally mine,
+but I found it almost impossible to call the reader&rsquo;s attention
+to this upon every occasion.&nbsp; I have done so once or twice, as
+thinking it necessary in these cases that there should be no mistake;
+on the whole, however, I thought it better to content myself with calling
+attention in a preface to the fact that the author quoted is not, as
+a general rule, responsible for the Italics.</p>
+<p>S. BUTLER.<br /><i>November</i> 13, 1877.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER I - ON CERTAIN ACQUIRED HABITS</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>It will be our business in the following chapters to consider whether
+the unconsciousness, or quasi-unconsciousness, with which we perform
+certain acquired actions, would seem to throw any light upon Embryology
+and inherited instincts, and otherwise to follow the train of thought
+which the class of actions above-mentioned would suggest; more especially
+in so far as they appear to bear upon the origin of species and the
+continuation of life by successive generations, whether in the animal
+or vegetable kingdoms.</p>
+<p>In the outset, however, I would wish most distinctly to disclaim
+for these pages the smallest pretension to scientific value, originality,
+or even to accuracy of more than a very rough and ready kind - for unless
+a matter be true enough to stand a good deal of misrepresentation, its
+truth is not of a very robust order, and the blame will rather lie with
+its own delicacy if it be crushed, than with the carelessness of the
+crusher.&nbsp; I have no wish to instruct, and not much to be instructed;
+my aim is simply to entertain and interest the numerous class of people
+who, like myself, know nothing of science, but who enjoy speculating
+and reflecting (not too deeply) upon the phenomena around them.&nbsp;
+I have therefore allowed myself a loose rein, to run on with whatever
+came uppermost, without regard to whether it was new or old; feeling
+sure that if true, it must be very old or it never could have occurred
+to one so little versed in science as myself; and knowing that it is
+sometimes pleasanter to meet the old under slightly changed conditions,
+than to go through the formalities and uncertainties of making new acquaintance.&nbsp;
+At the same time, I should say that whatever I have knowingly taken
+from any one else, I have always acknowledged.</p>
+<p>It is plain, therefore, that my book cannot be intended for the perusal
+of scientific people; it is intended for the general public only, with
+whom I believe myself to be in harmony, as knowing neither much more
+nor much less than they do.</p>
+<p>Taking then, the art of playing the piano as an example of the kind
+of action we are in search of, we observe that a practised player will
+perform very difficult pieces apparently without effort, often, indeed,
+while thinking and talking of something quite other than his music;
+yet he will play accurately and, possibly, with much expression.&nbsp;
+If he has been playing a fugue, say in four parts, he will have kept
+each part well distinct, in such a manner as to prove that his mind
+was not prevented, by its other occupations, from consciously or unconsciously
+following four distinct trains of musical thought at the same time,
+nor from making his fingers act in exactly the required manner as regards
+each note of each part.</p>
+<p>It commonly happens that in the course of four or five minutes a
+player may have struck four or five thousand notes.&nbsp; If we take
+into consideration the rests, dotted notes, accidentals, variations
+of time, &amp;c., we shall find his attention must have been exercised
+on many more occasions than when he was actually striking notes: so
+that it may not be too much to say that the attention of a first-rate
+player may have been exercised - to an infinitesimally small extent
+- but still truly exercised - on as many as ten thousand occasions within
+the space of five minutes, for no note can be struck nor point attended
+to without a certain amount of attention, no matter how rapidly or unconsciously
+given.</p>
+<p>Moreover, each act of attention has been followed by an act of volition,
+and each act of volition by a muscular action, which is composed of
+many minor actions; some so small that we can no more follow them than
+the player himself can perceive them; nevertheless, it may have been
+perfectly plain that the player was not attending to what he was doing,
+but was listening to conversation on some other subject, not to say
+joining in it himself.&nbsp; If he has been playing the violin, he may
+have done all the above, and may also have been walking about.&nbsp;
+Herr Joachim would unquestionably be able to do all that has here been
+described.</p>
+<p>So complete would the player&rsquo;s unconsciousness of the attention
+he is giving, and the brain power he is exerting appear to be, that
+we shall find it difficult to awaken his attention to any particular
+part of his performance without putting him out.&nbsp; Indeed we cannot
+do so.&nbsp; We shall observe that he finds it hardly less difficult
+to compass a voluntary consciousness of what he has once learnt so thoroughly
+that it has passed, so to speak, into the domain of unconsciousness,
+than he found it to learn the note or passage in the first instance.&nbsp;
+The effort after a second consciousness of detail baffles him - compels
+him to turn to his music or play slowly.&nbsp; In fact it seems as though
+he knew the piece too well to be able to know that he knows it, and
+is only conscious of knowing those passages which he does not know so
+thoroughly.</p>
+<p>At the end of his performance, his memory would appear to be no less
+annihilated than was his consciousness of attention and volition.&nbsp;
+For of the thousands of acts requiring the exercise of both the one
+and the other, which he has done during the five minutes, we will say,
+of his performance, he will remember hardly one when it is over.&nbsp;
+If he calls to mind anything beyond the main fact that he has played
+such and such a piece, it will probably be some passage which he has
+found more difficult than the others, and with the like of which he
+has not been so long familiar.&nbsp; All the rest he will forget as
+completely as the breath which he has drawn while playing.</p>
+<p>He finds it difficult to remember even the difficulties he experienced
+in learning to play.&nbsp; A few may have so impressed him that they
+remain with him, but the greater part will have escaped him as completely
+as the remembrance of what he ate, or how he put on his clothes, this
+day ten years ago; nevertheless, it is plain he remembers more than
+he remembers remembering, for he avoids mistakes which he made at one
+time, and his performance proves that all the notes are in his memory,
+though if called upon to play such and such a bar at random from the
+middle of the piece, and neither more nor less, he will probably say
+that he cannot remember it unless he begins from the beginning of the
+phrase which leads to it.&nbsp; Very commonly he will be obliged to
+begin from the beginning of the movement itself, and be unable to start
+at any other point unless he have the music before him; and if disturbed,
+as we have seen above, he will have to start <i>de novo</i> from an
+accustomed starting-point.</p>
+<p>Yet nothing can be more obvious than that there must have been a
+time when what is now so easy as to be done without conscious effort
+of the brain was only done by means of brain work which was very keenly
+perceived, even to fatigue and positive distress.&nbsp; Even now, if
+the player is playing something the like of which he has not met before,
+we observe he pauses and becomes immediately conscious of attention.</p>
+<p>We draw the inference, therefore, as regards pianoforte or violin
+playing, that the more the familiarity or knowledge of the art, the
+less is there consciousness of such knowledge; even so far as that there
+should seem to be almost as much difficulty in awakening consciousness
+which has become, so to speak, latent, - a consciousness of that which
+is known too well to admit of recognised self-analysis while the knowledge
+is being exercised - as in creating a consciousness of that which is
+not yet well enough known to be properly designated as known at all.&nbsp;
+On the other hand, we observe that the less the familiarly or knowledge,
+the greater the consciousness of whatever knowledge there is.</p>
+<p>Considering other like instances of the habitual exercise of intelligence
+and volition, which, from long familiarity with the method of procedure,
+escape the notice of the person exercising them, we naturally think
+of writing.&nbsp; The formation of each letter requires attention and
+volition, yet in a few minutes a practised writer will form several
+hundred letters, and be able to think and talk of something else all
+the time he is doing so.&nbsp; It will not probably remember the formation
+of a single character in any page that he has written; nor will he be
+able to give more than the substance of his writing if asked to do so.&nbsp;
+He knows how to form each letter so well, and he knows so well each
+word that he is about to write, that he has ceased to be conscious of
+his knowledge or to notice his acts of volition, each one of which is,
+nevertheless, followed by a corresponding muscular action.&nbsp; Yet
+the uniformity of our handwriting, and the manner in which we almost
+invariably adhere to one method of forming the same character, would
+seem to suggest that during the momentary formation of each letter our
+memories must revert (with an intensity too rapid for our perception)
+to many if not to all the occasions on which we have ever written the
+same letter previously - the memory of these occasions dwelling in our
+minds as what has been called a residuum - an unconsciously struck balance
+or average of them all - a fused mass of individual reminiscences of
+which no trace can be found in our consciousness, and of which the only
+effect would seem to lie in the gradual changes of handwriting which
+are perceptible in most people till they have reached middle-age, and
+sometimes even later.&nbsp; So far are we from consciously remembering
+any one of the occasions on which we have written such and such a letter,
+that we are not even conscious of exercising our memory at all, any
+more than we are in health conscious of the action of our heart.&nbsp;
+But, if we are writing in some unfamiliar way, as when printing our
+letters instead of writing them in our usual running hand, our memory
+is so far awakened that we become conscious of every character we form;
+sometimes it is even perceptible as memory to ourselves, as when we
+try to remember how to print some letter, for example a g, and cannot
+call to mind on which side of the upper half of the letter we ought
+to put the link which connects it with the lower, and are successful
+in remembering; but if we become very conscious of remembering, it shows
+that we are on the brink of only trying to remember, - that is to say,
+of not remembering at all.</p>
+<p>As a general rule, we remember for a time the substance of what we
+have written, for the subject is generally new to us; but if we are
+writing what we have often written before, we lose consciousness of
+this too, as fully as we do of the characters necessary to convey the
+substance to another person, and we shall find ourselves writing on
+as it were mechanically while thinking and talking of something else.&nbsp;
+So a paid copyist, to whom the subject of what he is writing is of no
+importance, does not even notice it.&nbsp; He deals only with familiar
+words and familiar characters without caring to go behind them, and
+thereupon writes on in a quasi-unconscious manner; but if he comes to
+a word or to characters with which he is but little acquainted, he becomes
+immediately awakened to the consciousness of either remembering or trying
+to remember.&nbsp; His consciousness of his own knowledge or memory
+would seem to belong to a period, so to speak, of twilight between the
+thick darkness of ignorance and the brilliancy of perfect knowledge;
+as colour which vanishes with extremes of light or of shade.&nbsp; Perfect
+ignorance and perfect knowledge are alike unselfconscious.</p>
+<p>The above holds good even more noticeably in respect of reading.&nbsp;
+How many thousands of individual letters do our eyes run over every
+morning in the &ldquo;Times&rdquo; newspaper, how few of them do we
+notice, or remember having noticed?&nbsp; Yet there was a time when
+we had such difficulty in reading even the simplest words, that we had
+to take great pains to impress them upon our memory so as to know them
+when we came to then again.&nbsp; Now, not even a single word of all
+we have seen will remain with us, unless it is a new one, or an old
+one used in an unfamiliar sense, in which case we notice, and may very
+likely remember it.&nbsp; Our memory retains the substance only, the
+substance only being unfamiliar.&nbsp; Nevertheless, although we do
+not perceive more than the general result of our perception, there can
+be no doubt of our having perceived every letter in every word that
+we have read at all, for if we come upon a word misspelt our attention
+is at once aroused; unless, indeed, we have actually corrected the misspelling,
+as well as noticed it, unconsciously, through exceeding familiarity
+with the way in which it ought to be spelt.&nbsp; Not only do we perceive
+the letters we have seen without noticing that we have perceived them,
+but we find it almost impossible to notice that we notice them when
+we have once learnt to read fluently.&nbsp; To try to do so puts us
+out, and prevents our being able to read.&nbsp; We may even go so far
+as to say that if a man can attend to the individual characters, it
+is a sign that he cannot yet read fluently.&nbsp; If we know how to
+read well, we are as unconscious of the means and processes whereby
+we attain the desired result as we are about the growth of our hair
+or the circulation of our blood.&nbsp; So that here again it would seem
+that we only know what we know still to some extent imperfectly, and
+that what we know thoroughly escapes our conscious perception though
+none the less actually perceived.&nbsp; Our perception in fact passes
+into a latent stage, as also our memory and volition.</p>
+<p>Walking is another example of the rapid exercise of volition with
+but little perception of each individual act of exercise.&nbsp; We notice
+any obstacle in our path, but it is plain we do not notice that we perceive
+much that we have nevertheless been perceiving; for if a man goes down
+a lane by night he will stumble over many things which he would have
+avoided by day, although he would not have noticed them.&nbsp; Yet time
+was when walking was to each one of us a new and arduous task - as arduous
+as we should now find it to wheel a wheelbarrow on a tight-rope; whereas,
+at present, though we can think of our steps to a certain extent without
+checking our power to walk, we certainly cannot consider our muscular
+action in detail without having to come to a dead stop.</p>
+<p>Talking - especially in one&rsquo;s mother tongue - may serve as
+a last example.&nbsp; We find it impossible to follow the muscular action
+of the mouth and tongue in framing every letter or syllable we utter.&nbsp;
+We have probably spoken for years and years before we became aware that
+the letter h is a labial sound, and until we have to utter a word which
+is difficult from its unfamiliarity we speak &ldquo;trippingly on the
+tongue&rdquo; with no attention except to the substance of what we wish
+to say.&nbsp; Yet talking was not always the easy matter to us which
+it is at present - as we perceive more readily when we are learning
+a new language which it may take us months to master.&nbsp; Nevertheless,
+when we have once mastered it we speak it without further consciousness
+of knowledge or memory, as regards the more common words, and without
+even noticing our consciousness.&nbsp; Here, as in the other instances
+already given, as long as we did not know perfectly, we were conscious
+of our acts of perception, volition, and reflection, but when our knowledge
+has become perfect we no longer notice our consciousness, nor our volition;
+nor can we awaken a second artificial consciousness without some effort,
+and disturbance of the process of which we are endeavouring to become
+conscious.&nbsp; We are no longer, so to speak, under the law, but under
+grace.</p>
+<p>An ascending scale may be perceived in the above instances.</p>
+<p>In playing, we have an action acquired long after birth, difficult
+of acquisition, and never thoroughly familiarised to the power of absolutely
+unconscious performance, except in the case of those who have either
+an exceptional genius for music, or who have devoted the greater part
+of their time to practising.&nbsp; Except in the case of these persons
+it is generally found easy to become more or less conscious of any passage
+without disturbing the performance, and our action remains so completely
+within our control that we can stop playing at any moment we please.</p>
+<p>In writing, we have an action generally acquired earlier, done for
+the most part with great unconsciousness of detail, fairly well within
+our control to stop at any moment; though not so completely as would
+be imagined by those who have not made the experiment of trying to stop
+in the middle of a given character when writing at fit speed.&nbsp;
+Also, we can notice our formation of any individual character without
+our writing being materially hindered.</p>
+<p>Reading is usually acquired earlier still.&nbsp; We read with more
+unconsciousness of attention than we write.&nbsp; We find it more difficult
+to become conscious of any character without discomfiture, and we cannot
+arrest ourselves in the middle of a word, for example, and hardly before
+the end of a sentence; nevertheless it is on the whole well within our
+control.</p>
+<p>Walking is so early an acquisition that we cannot remember having
+acquired it.&nbsp; In running fast over average ground we find it very
+difficult to become conscious of each individual step, and should possibly
+find it more difficult still, if the inequalities and roughness of uncultured
+land had not perhaps caused the development of a power to create a second
+consciousness of our steps without hindrance to our running or walking.&nbsp;
+Pursuit and flight, whether in the chase or in war, must for many generations
+have played a much more prominent part in the lives of our ancestors
+than they do in our own.&nbsp; If the ground over which they had to
+travel had been generally as free from obstruction as our modern cultivated
+lands, it is possible that we might not find it as easy to notice our
+several steps as we do at present.&nbsp; Even as it is, if while we
+are running we would consider the action of our muscles, we come to
+a dead stop, and should probably fall if we tried to observe too suddenly;
+for we must stop to do this, and running, when we have once committed
+ourselves to it beyond a certain point, is not controllable to a step
+or two without loss of equilibrium.</p>
+<p>We learn to talk, much about the same time that we learn to walk,
+but talking requires less muscular effort than walking, and makes generally
+less demand upon our powers.&nbsp; A man may talk a long while before
+he has done the equivalent of a five-mile walk; it is natural, therefore,
+that we should have had more practice in talking than in walking, and
+hence that we should find it harder to pay attention to our words than
+to our steps.&nbsp; Certainly it is very hard to become conscious of
+every syllable or indeed of every word we say; the attempt to do so
+will often bring us to a check at once; nevertheless we can generally
+stop talking if we wish to do so, unless the crying of infants be considered
+as a kind of <i>quasi</i>-speech: this comes earlier, and is often quite
+uncontrollable, or more truly perhaps is done with such complete control
+over the muscles by the will, and with such absolute certainty of his
+own purpose on the part of the wilier, that there is no longer any more
+doubt, uncertainty, or suspense, and hence no power of perceiving any
+of the processes whereby the result is attained - as a wheel which may
+look fast fixed because it is so fast revolving. <a name="citation2"></a><a href="#footnote2">{2}</a></p>
+<p>We may observe therefore in this ascending scale, imperfect as it
+is, that the older the habit the longer the practice, the longer the
+practice, the more knowledge - or, the less uncertainty; the less uncertainty
+the less power of conscious self-analysis and control.</p>
+<p>It will occur to the reader that in all the instances given above,
+different individuals attain the unconscious stage of perfect knowledge
+with very different degrees of facility.&nbsp; Some have to attain it
+with a great sum; others are free born.&nbsp; Some learn to play, to
+read, write, and talk, with hardly an effort - some show such an instinctive
+aptitude for arithmetic that, like Zerah Colburn, at eight years old,
+they achieve results without instruction, which in the case of most
+people would require a long education.&nbsp; The account of Zerah Colburn,
+as quoted from Mr. Baily in Dr. Carpenter&rsquo;s &ldquo;Mental Physiology,&rdquo;
+may perhaps be given here.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He raised any number consisting of <i>one</i> figure progressively
+to the tenth power, giving the results (by actual multiplication and
+not by memory) <i>faster</i> <i>than they could be set down in figures</i>
+by the person appointed to record them.&nbsp; He raised the number 8
+progressively to the <i>sixteenth</i> power, and in naming the last
+result, which consisted of 15 figures, he was right in every one.&nbsp;
+Some numbers consisting of <i>two</i> figures he raised as high as the
+eighth power, though he found a difficulty in proceeding when the products
+became very large.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On being asked the <i>square root</i> of 106,929, he answered
+327 before the original number could be written down.&nbsp; He was then
+required to find the cube root of 268,336,125, and with equal facility
+and promptness he replied 645.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was asked how many minutes there are in 48 years, and before
+the question could be taken down he replied 25,228,800, and immediately
+afterwards he gave the correct number of seconds.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On being requested to give the factors which would produce
+the number 247,483, he immediately named 941 and 263, which are the
+only two numbers from the multiplication of which it would result.&nbsp;
+On 171,395 being proposed, he named 5 &times; 34,279, 7 &times; 24,485,
+59 &times; 2905, 83 &times; 2065, 35 &times; 4897, 295 &times; 581,
+and 413 &times; 415.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He was then asked to give the factors of 36,083, but he immediately
+replied that it had none, which was really the case, this being a prime
+number.&nbsp; Other numbers being proposed to him indiscriminately,
+he always succeeded in giving the correct factors except in the case
+of prime numbers, which he generally discovered almost as soon as they
+were proposed to him.&nbsp; The number 4,294,967,297, which is 2^32
++ 1, having been given him, he discovered, as Euler had previously done,
+that it was not the prime number which Fermat had supposed it to be,
+but that it is the product of the factors 6,700,417 &times; 641.&nbsp;
+The solution of this problem was only given after the lapse of some
+weeks, but the method he took to obtain it clearly showed that he had
+not derived his information from any extraneous source.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When he was asked to multiply together numbers both consisting
+of more than these figures, he seemed to decompose one or both of them
+into its factors, and to work with them separately.&nbsp; Thus, on being
+asked to give the square of 4395, he multiplied 293 by itself, and then
+twice multiplied the product by 15.&nbsp; And on being asked to tell
+the square of 999,999 he obtained the correct result, 999,998,000,001,
+by twice multiplying the square of 37,037 by 27.&nbsp; He then of his
+own accord multiplied that product by 49, and said that the result (viz.,
+48,999,902,000,049) was equal to the square of 6,999,993.&nbsp; He afterwards
+multiplied this product by 49, and observed that the result (viz., 2,400,995,198,002,401)
+was equal to the square of 48,999,951.&nbsp; He was again asked to multiply
+the product by 25, and in naming the result (viz., 60,024,879,950,060,025)
+he said it was equal to the square of 244,999,755.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;On being interrogated as to the manner in which he obtained
+these results, the boy constantly said he did not know <i>how</i> the
+answers came into his mind.&nbsp; In the act of multiplying two numbers
+together, and in the raising of powers, it was evident (alike from the
+facts just stated and from the motion of his lips) that <i>some</i>
+operation was going forward in his mind; yet that operation could not
+(from the readiness with which his answers were furnished) have been
+at all allied to the usual modes of procedure, of which, indeed, he
+was entirely ignorant, not being able to perform on paper a simple sum
+in multiplication or division.&nbsp; But in the extraction of roots,
+and in the discovery of the factors of large numbers, it did not appear
+that any operation <i>could</i> take place, since he gave answers <i>immediately</i>,
+or in a very few seconds, which, according to the ordinary methods,
+would have required very difficult and laborious calculations, and prime
+numbers cannot be recognised as such by any known rule.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I should hope that many of the above figures are wrong.&nbsp; I have
+verified them carefully with Dr. Carpenter&rsquo;s quotation, but further
+than this I cannot and will not go.&nbsp; Also I am happy to find that
+in the end the boy overcame the mathematics, and turned out a useful
+but by no means particularly calculating member of society.</p>
+<p>The case, however, is typical of others in which persons have been
+found able to do without apparent effort what in the great majority
+of cases requires a long apprenticeship.&nbsp; It is needless to multiply
+instances; the point that concerns us is, that knowledge under such
+circumstances being very intense, and the ease with which the result
+is produced extreme, it eludes the conscious apprehension of the performer
+himself, who only becomes conscious when a difficulty arises which taxes
+even his abnormal power.&nbsp; Such a case, therefore, confirms rather
+than militates against our opinion that consciousness of knowledge vanishes
+on the knowledge becoming perfect - the only difference between those
+possessed of any such remarkable special power and the general run of
+people being, that the first are born with such an unusual aptitude
+for their particular specialty that they are able to dispense with all
+or nearly all the preliminary exercise of their faculty, while the latter
+must exercise it for a considerable time before they can get it to work
+smoothly and easily; but in either case when once the knowledge is intense
+it is unconscious.</p>
+<p>Nor again would such an instance as that of Zerah Colburn warrant
+us in believing that this white heat, as it were, of unconscious knowledge
+can be attained by any one without his ever having been originally cold.&nbsp;
+Young Colburn, for example, could not extract roots when he was an embryo
+of three weeks&rsquo; standing.&nbsp; It is true we can seldom follow
+the process, but we know there must have been a time in every case when
+even the desire for information or action had not been kindled; the
+forgetfulness of effort on the part of those with exceptional genius
+for a special subject is due to the smallness of the effort necessary,
+so that it makes no impression upon the individual himself, rather than
+to the absence of any effort at all. <a name="citation3"></a><a href="#footnote3">{3}</a></p>
+<p>It would, therefore, appear as though perfect knowledge and perfect
+ignorance were extremes which meet and become indistinguishable from
+one another; so also perfect volition and perfect absence of volition,
+perfect memory and utter forgetfulness; for we are unconscious of knowing,
+willing, or remembering, either from not yet having known or willed,
+or from knowing and willing so well and so intensely as to be no longer
+conscious of either.&nbsp; Conscious knowledge and volition are of attention;
+attention is of suspense; suspense is of doubt; doubt is of uncertainty;
+uncertainty is of ignorance; so that the mere fact of conscious knowing
+or willing implies the presence of more or less novelty and doubt.</p>
+<p>It would also appear as a general principle on a superficial view
+of the foregoing instances (and the reader may readily supply himself
+with others which are perhaps more to the purpose), that unconscious
+knowledge and unconscious volition are never acquired otherwise than
+as the result of experience, familiarity, or habit; so that whenever
+we observe a person able to do any complicated action unconsciously,
+we may assume both that he must have done it very often before he could
+acquire so great proficiency, and also that there must have been a time
+when he did not know how to do it at all.</p>
+<p>We may assume that there was a time when he was yet so nearly on
+the point of neither knowing nor willing perfectly, that he was quite
+alive to whatever knowledge or volition he could exert; going further
+back, we shall find him still more keenly alive to a less perfect knowledge;
+earlier still, we find him well aware that he does not know nor will
+correctly, but trying hard to do both the one and the other; and so
+on, back and back, till both difficulty and consciousness become little
+more than a sound of going in the brain, a flitting to and fro of something
+barely recognisable as the desire to will or know at all - much less
+as the desire to know or will definitely this or that.&nbsp; Finally,
+they retreat beyond our ken into the repose - the inorganic kingdom
+- of as yet unawakened interest.</p>
+<p>In either case, - the repose of perfect ignorance or of perfect knowledge
+- disturbance is troublesome.&nbsp; When first starting on an Atlantic
+steamer, our rest is hindered by the screw; after a short time, it is
+hindered if the screw stops.&nbsp; A uniform impression is practically
+no impression.&nbsp; One cannot either learn or unlearn without pains
+or pain.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER II - CONSCIOUS AND UNCONSCIOUS KNOWERS - THE LAW AND GRACE</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>In this chapter we shall show that the law, which we have observed
+to hold as to the vanishing tendency of knowledge upon becoming perfect,
+holds good not only concerning acquired actions or habits of body, but
+concerning opinions, modes of thought, and mental habits generally,
+which are no more recognised as soon as firmly fixed, than are the steps
+with which we go about our daily avocations.&nbsp; I am aware that I
+may appear in the latter part of the chapter to have wandered somewhat
+beyond the limits of my subject, but, on the whole, decide upon leaving
+what I have written, inasmuch as it serves to show how far-reaching
+is the principle on which I am insisting.&nbsp; Having said so much,
+I shall during the remainder of the book keep more closely to the point.</p>
+<p>Certain it is that we know best what we are least conscious of knowing,
+or at any rate least able to prove, as, for example, our own existence,
+or that there is a country England.&nbsp; If any one asks us for proof
+on matters of this sort, we have none ready, and are justly annoyed
+at being called to consider what we regard as settled questions.&nbsp;
+Again, there is hardly anything which so much affects our actions as
+the centre of the earth (unless, perhaps, it be that still hotter and
+more unprofitable spot the centre of the universe), for we are incessantly
+trying to get as near it as circumstances will allow, or to avoid getting
+nearer than is for the time being convenient.&nbsp; Walking, running,
+standing, sitting, lying, waking, or sleeping, from birth till death
+it is a paramount object with us; even after death - if it be not fanciful
+to say so - it is one of the few things of which what is left of us
+can still feel the influence; yet what can engross less of our attention
+than this dark and distant spot so many thousands of miles away?</p>
+<p>The air we breathe, so long as it is neither too hot nor cold, nor
+rough, nor full of smoke - that is to say, so long as it is in that
+state within which we are best acquainted - seldom enters into our thoughts;
+yet there is hardly anything with which we are more incessantly occupied
+night and day.</p>
+<p>Indeed, it is not too much to say that we have no really profound
+knowledge upon any subject - no knowledge on the strength of which we
+are ready to act at all moments unhesitatingly without either preparation
+or after-thought - till we have left off feeling conscious of the possession
+of such knowledge, and of the grounds on which it rests.&nbsp; A lesson
+thoroughly learned must be like the air which feels so light, though
+pressing so heavily against us, because every pore of our skin is saturated,
+so to speak, with it on all sides equally.&nbsp; This perfection of
+knowledge sometimes extends to positive disbelief in the thing known,
+so that the most thorough knower shall believe himself altogether ignorant.&nbsp;
+No thief, for example, is such an utter thief - so <i>good</i> a thief
+- as the kleptomaniac.&nbsp; Until he has become a kleptomaniac, and
+can steal a horse as it were by a reflex action, he is still but half
+a thief, with many unthievish notions still clinging to him.&nbsp; Yet
+the kleptomaniac is probably unaware that he can steal at all, much
+less that he can steal so well.&nbsp; He would be shocked if he were
+to know the truth.&nbsp; So again, no man is a great hypocrite until
+he has left off knowing that he is a hypocrite.&nbsp; The great hypocrites
+of the world are almost invariably under the impression that they are
+among the very few really honest people to be found and, as we must
+all have observed, it is rare to find any one strongly under this impression
+without ourselves having good reason to differ from him.</p>
+<p>Our own existence is another case in point.&nbsp; When we have once
+become articulately conscious of existing, it is an easy matter to begin
+doubting whether we exist at all.&nbsp; As long as man was too unreflecting
+a creature to articulate in words his consciousness of his own existence,
+he knew very well that he existed, but he did not know that he knew
+it.&nbsp; With introspection, and the perception recognised, for better
+or worse, that he was a fact, came also the perception that he had no
+solid ground for believing that he was a fact at all.&nbsp; That nice,
+sensible, unintrospective people who were too busy trying to exist pleasantly
+to trouble their heads as to whether they existed or no - that this
+best part of mankind should have gratefully caught at such a straw as
+&ldquo;<i>cogito ergo sum</i>,&rdquo; is intelligible enough.&nbsp;
+They felt the futility of the whole question, and were thankful to one
+who seemed to clench the matter with a cant catchword, especially with
+a catchword in a foreign language; but how one, who was so far gone
+as to recognise that he could not prove his own existence, should be
+able to comfort himself with such a begging of the question, would seem
+unintelligible except upon the ground of sheer exhaustion.</p>
+<p>At the risk of appearing to wander too far from the matter in hand,
+a few further examples may perhaps be given of that irony of nature,
+by which it comes about that we so often most know and are, what we
+least think ourselves to know and be - and on the other hand hold most
+strongly what we are least capable of demonstrating.</p>
+<p>Take the existence of a Personal God, - one of the most profoundly-received
+and widely-spread ideas that have ever prevailed among mankind.&nbsp;
+Has there ever been a <i>demonstration</i> of the existence of such
+a God as has satisfied any considerable section of thinkers for long
+together?&nbsp; Hardly has what has been conceived to be a demonstration
+made its appearance and received a certain acceptance as though it were
+actual proof, when it has been impugned with sufficient success to show
+that, however true the fact itself, the demonstration is naught.&nbsp;
+I do not say that this is an argument against the personality of God;
+the drift, indeed, of the present reasoning would be towards an opposite
+conclusion, inasmuch as it insists upon the fact that what is most true
+and best known is often least susceptible of demonstration owing to
+the very perfectness with which it is known; nevertheless, the fact
+remains that many men in many ages and countries - the subtlest thinkers
+over the whole world for some fifteen hundred years - have hunted for
+a demonstration of God&rsquo;s personal existence; yet though so many
+have sought, - so many, and so able, and for so long a time - none have
+found.&nbsp; There is no demonstration which can be pointed to with
+any unanimity as settling the matter beyond power of reasonable cavil.&nbsp;
+On the contrary, it may be observed that from the attempt to prove the
+existence of a personal God to the denial of that existence altogether,
+the path is easy.&nbsp; As in the case of our own existence, it will
+be found that they alone are perfect believers in a personal Deity and
+in the Christian religion who have not yet begun to feel that either
+stands in need of demonstration.&nbsp; We observe that most people,
+whether Christians, or Jews, or Mohammedans, are unable to give their
+reasons for the faith that is in them with any readiness or completeness;
+and this is sure proof that they really hold it so utterly as to have
+no further sense that it either can be demonstrated or ought to be so,
+but feel towards it as towards the air which they breathe but do not
+notice.&nbsp; On the other hand, a living prelate was reported in the
+&ldquo;Times&rdquo; to have said in one of his latest charges: &ldquo;My
+belief is that a widely extended good practice must be founded upon
+Christian doctrine.&rdquo;&nbsp; The fact of the Archbishop&rsquo;s
+recognising this as among the number of his beliefs is conclusive evidence
+with those who have devoted attention to the laws of thought, that his
+mind is not yet clear as to whether or no there is any connection at
+all between Christian doctrine and widely extended good practice. <a name="citation4"></a><a href="#footnote4">{4}</a></p>
+<p>Again, it has been often and very truly said that it is not the conscious
+and self-styled sceptic, as Shelley for example, who is the true unbeliever.&nbsp;
+Such a man as Shelley will, as indeed his life abundantly proves, have
+more in common than not with the true unselfconscious believer.&nbsp;
+Gallio again, whose indifference to religious animosities has won him
+the cheapest immortality which, so far as I can remember, was ever yet
+won, was probably if the truth were known, a person of the sincerest
+piety.&nbsp; It is the unconscious unbeliever who is the true infidel,
+however greatly he would be surprised to know the truth.&nbsp; Mr. Spurgeon
+was reported as having recently asked the Almighty to &ldquo;change
+our rulers <i>as soon as possible</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; There lurks a more
+profound distrust of God&rsquo;s power in these words than in almost
+any open denial of His existence.</p>
+<p>So it rather shocks us to find Mr. Darwin writing (&ldquo;Plants
+and Animals under Domestication,&rdquo; vol. ii., p. 275): &ldquo;No
+doubt, in every case there must have been some exciting cause.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And again, six or seven pages later: &ldquo;No doubt, each slight variation
+must have its efficient cause.&rdquo;&nbsp; The repetition within so
+short a space of this expression of confidence in the impossibility
+of causeless effects would suggest that Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s mind at the
+time of writing was, unconsciously to himself, in a state of more or
+less uneasiness as to whether effects could not occasionally come about
+of themselves, and without cause of any sort, - that he may have been
+standing, in fact, for a short time upon the brink of a denial of the
+indestructibility of force and matter.</p>
+<p>In like manner, the most perfect humour and irony is generally quite
+unconscious.&nbsp; Examples of both are frequently given by men whom
+the world considers as deficient in humour; it is more probably true
+that these persons are unconscious of their own delightful power through
+the very mastery and perfection with which they hold it.&nbsp; There
+is a play, for instance, of genuine fun in some of the more serious
+scientific and theological journals which for some time past we have
+looked for in vain in &ldquo; ---&nbsp; .&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The following extract, from a journal which I will not advertise,
+may serve as an example:</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lycurgus, when they had abandoned to his revenge him who had
+put out his eyes, took him home, and the punishment he inflicted upon
+him was sedulous instructions to virtue.&rdquo;&nbsp; Yet this truly
+comic paper does not probably know that it is comic, any more than the
+kleptomaniac knows that he steals, or than John Milton knew he was a
+humorist when he wrote a hymn upon the circumcision, and spent his honeymoon
+in composing a treatise on divorce.&nbsp; No more again did Goethe know
+how exquisitely humorous he was when he wrote, in his Wilhelm Meister,
+that a beautiful tear glistened in Theresa&rsquo;s right eye, and then
+went on to explain that it glistened in her right eye and not in her
+left, because she had had a wart on her left which had been removed
+- and successfully.&nbsp; Goethe probably wrote this without a chuckle;
+he believed what a good many people who have never read Wilhelm Meister
+believe still, namely, that it was a work full of pathos, of fine and
+tender feeling; yet a less consummate humorist must have felt that there
+was scarcely a paragraph in it from first to last the chief merit of
+which did not lie in its absurdity.</p>
+<p>Another example may be taken from Bacon of the manner in which sayings
+which drop from men unconsciously, give the key of their inner thoughts
+to another person, though they themselves know not that they have such
+thoughts at all; much less that these thoughts are their only true convictions.&nbsp;
+In his Essay on Friendship the great philosopher writes: &ldquo;Reading
+good books on morality is a little flat and dead.&rdquo;&nbsp; Innocent,
+not to say pathetic, as this passage may sound it is pregnant with painful
+inferences concerning Bacon&rsquo;s moral character.&nbsp; For if he
+knew that he found reading good books of morality a little flat and
+dead, it follows he must have tried to read them; nor is he saved by
+the fact that he found them a little flat and dead; for though this
+does indeed show that he had begun to be so familiar with a few first
+principles as to find it more or less exhausting to have his attention
+directed to them further - yet his words prove that they were not so
+incorporate with him that he should feel the loathing for further discourse
+upon the matter which honest people commonly feel now.&nbsp; It will
+be remembered that he took bribes when he came to be Lord Chancellor.</p>
+<p>It is on the same principle that we find it so distasteful to hear
+one praise another for earnestness.&nbsp; For such praise raises a suspicion
+in our minds (<i>pace</i> the late Dr. Arnold and his following) that
+the praiser&rsquo;s attention must have been arrested by sincerity,
+as by something more or less unfamiliar to himself.&nbsp; So universally
+is this recognised that the world has for some time been discarded entirely
+by all reputable people.&nbsp; Truly, if there is one who cannot find
+himself in the same room with the life and letters of an earnest person
+without being made instantly unwell, the same is a just man and perfect
+in all his ways.</p>
+<p>But enough has perhaps been said.&nbsp; As the fish in the sea, or
+the bird in the air, so unreasoningly and inarticulately safe must a
+man feel before he can be said to know.&nbsp; It is only those who are
+ignorant and uncultivated who can know anything at all in a proper sense
+of the words.&nbsp; Cultivation will breed in any man a certainty of
+the uncertainty even of his most assured convictions.&nbsp; It is perhaps
+fortunate for our comfort that we can none of us be cultivated upon
+very many subjects, so that considerable scope for assurance will still
+remain to us; but however this may be, we certainly observe it as a
+fact that the greatest men are they who are most uncertain in spite
+of certainty, and at the same time most certain in spite of uncertainty,
+and who are thus best able to feel that there is nothing in such complete
+harmony with itself as a flat contradiction in terms.&nbsp; For nature
+hates that any principle should breed, so to speak, hermaphroditically,
+but will give to each an help meet for it which shall cross it and be
+the undoing of it; as in the case of descent with modification, of which
+the essence would appear to be that every offspring should resemble
+its parents, and yet, at the same time, that no offspring should resemble
+its parents.&nbsp; But for the slightly irritating stimulant of this
+perpetual crossing, we should pass our lives unconsciously as though
+in slumber.</p>
+<p>Until we have got to understand that though black is not white, yet
+it may be whiter than white itself (and any painter will readily paint
+that which shall show obviously as black, yet it shall be whiter than
+that which shall show no less obviously as white), we may be good logicians,
+but we are still poor reasoners.&nbsp; Knowledge is in an inchoate state
+as long as it is capable of logical treatment; it must be transmuted
+into that sense or instinct which rises altogether above the sphere
+in which words can have being at all, otherwise it is not yet vital.&nbsp;
+For sense is to knowledge what conscience is to reasoning about right
+and wrong; the reasoning must be so rapid as to defy conscious reference
+to first principles, and even at times to be apparently subversive of
+them altogether, or the action will halt.&nbsp; It must, in fact, become
+automatic before we are safe with it.&nbsp; While we are fumbling for
+the grounds of our conviction, our conviction is prone to fall, as Peter
+for lack of faith sinking into the waves of Galilee; so that the very
+power to prove at all is an <i>&agrave; priori</i> argument against
+the truth - or at any rate the practical importance to the vast majority
+of mankind - of all that is supported by demonstration.&nbsp; For the
+power to prove implies a sense of the need of proof, and things which
+the majority of mankind find practically important are in ninety-nine
+cases out of a hundred above proof.&nbsp; The need of proof becomes
+as obsolete in the case of assumed knowledge, as the practice of fortifying
+towns in the middle of an old and long settled country.&nbsp; Who builds
+defences for that which is impregnable or little likely to be assailed?&nbsp;
+The answer is ready, that unless the defences had been built in former
+times it would be impossible to do without them now; but this does not
+touch the argument, which is not that demonstration is unwise, but that
+as long as a demonstration is still felt necessary, and therefore kept
+ready to hand, the subject of such demonstration is not yet securely
+known.&nbsp; <i>Qui s&rsquo;excuse, s&rsquo;accuse</i>; and unless a
+matter can hold its own without the brag and self-assertion of continual
+demonstration, it is still more or less of a parvenu, which we shall
+not lose much by neglecting till it has less occasion to blow its own
+trumpet.&nbsp; The only alternative is that it is an error in process
+of detection, for if evidence concerning any opinion has long been denied
+superfluous, and ever after this comes to be again felt necessary, we
+know that the opinion is doomed.</p>
+<p>If there is any truth in the above, it should follow that our conception
+of the words &ldquo;science&rdquo; and &ldquo;scientific&rdquo; should
+undergo some modification.&nbsp; Not that we should speak slightingly
+of science, but that we should recognise more than we do, that there
+are two distinct classes of scientific people corresponding not inaptly
+with the two main parties unto which the political world is divided.&nbsp;
+The one class is deeply versed in those sciences which have already
+become the common property of mankind; enjoying, enforcing, perpetuating,
+and engraving still more deeply unto the mind of man acquisitions already
+approved by common experience, but somewhat careless about extension
+of empire, or at any rate disinclined, for the most part, to active
+effort on their own part for the sake of such extension - neither progressive,
+in fact, nor aggressive - but quiet, peaceable people, who wish to live
+and let live, as their fathers before them; while the other class is
+chiefly intent upon pushing forward the boundaries of science, and is
+comparatively indifferent to what is known already save in so far as
+necessary for purposes of extension.&nbsp; These last are called pioneers
+of science, and to them alone is the title &ldquo;scientific&rdquo;
+commonly accorded; but pioneers, unimportant to an army as they are,
+are still not the army itself; which can get on better without the pioneers
+than the pioneers without the army.&nbsp; Surely the class which knows
+thoroughly well what it knows, and which adjudicates upon the value
+of the discoveries made by the pioneers - surely this class has as good
+a right or better to be called scientific than the pioneers themselves.</p>
+<p>These two classes above described blend into one another with every
+shade of gradation.&nbsp; Some are admirably proficient in the well-known
+sciences - that is to say, they have good health, good looks, good temper,
+common sense, and energy, and they hold all these good things in such
+perfection as to lie altogether without introspection - to be not under
+the law, but so utterly and entirely under grace that every one who
+sees them likes them.&nbsp; But such may, and perhaps more commonly
+will, have very little inclination to extend the boundaries of human
+knowledge; their aim is in another direction altogether.&nbsp; Of the
+pioneers, on the other hand, some are agreeable people, well versed
+in the older sciences, though still more eminent as pioneers, while
+others, whose services in this last capacity have been of inestimable
+value, are noticeably ignorant of the sciences which have already become
+current with the larger part of mankind - in other words, they are ugly,
+rude, and disagreeable people, very progressive, it may be, but very
+aggressive to boot.</p>
+<p>The main difference between these two classes lies in the fact that
+the knowledge of the one, so far as it is new, is known consciously,
+while that of the other is unconscious, consisting of sense and instinct
+rather than of recognised knowledge.&nbsp; So long as a man has these,
+and of the same kind as the more powerful body of his fellow-countrymen,
+he is a true man of science, though he can hardly read or write.&nbsp;
+As my great namesake said so well, &ldquo;He knows what&rsquo;s what,
+and that&rsquo;s as high as metaphysic wit can fly.&rdquo;&nbsp; As
+usual, these true and thorough knowers do not know that they are scientific,
+and can seldom give a reason for the faith that is in them.&nbsp; They
+believe themselves to be ignorant, uncultured men, nor can even the
+professors whom they sometimes outwit in their own professorial domain
+perceive that they have been outwitted by men of superior scientific
+attainments to their own.&nbsp; The following passage from Dr. Carpenter&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Mesmerism, Spiritualism,&rdquo; &amp;c., may serve as an illustration:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is well known that persons who are conversant with the
+geological structure of a district are often able to indicate with considerable
+certainty in what spot and at what depth water will be found; and men
+<i>of less scientific knowledge, but of considerable practical experience</i>&rdquo;
+- (so that in Dr. Carpenter&rsquo;s mind there seems to be some sort
+of contrast or difference in kind between the knowledge which is derived
+from observation of facts and scientific knowledge) - &ldquo;frequently
+arrive at a true conclusion upon this point without being able to assign
+reasons for their opinions.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Exactly the same may be said in regard to the mineral structure
+of a mining district; the course of a metallic vein being often correctly
+indicated by the shrewd guess of an <i>observant</i> workman, when <i>the
+scientific reasoning</i> of the mining engineer altogether fails.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Precisely.&nbsp; Here we have exactly the kind of thing we are in
+search of: the man who has observed and observed till the facts are
+so thoroughly in his head that through familiarity he has lost sight
+both of them and of the processes whereby he deduced his conclusions
+from them - is apparently not considered scientific, though he knows
+how to solve the problem before him; the mining engineer, on the other
+hand, who reasons scientifically - that is to say, with a knowledge
+of his own knowledge - is found not to know, and to fail in discovering
+the mineral.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is an experience we are continually encountering in other
+walks of life,&rdquo; continues Dr. Carpenter, &ldquo;that particular
+persons are guided - some apparently by an original and others by <i>an
+acquired intuition</i> - to conclusions for which they can give no adequate
+reason, but which subsequent events prove to have been correct.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And this, I take it, implies what I have been above insisting on, namely,
+that on becoming intense, knowledge seems also to become unaware of
+the grounds on which it rests, or that it has or requires grounds at
+all, or indeed even exists.&nbsp; The only issue between myself and
+Dr. Carpenter would appear to be, that Dr. Carpenter, himself an acknowledged
+leader in the scientific world, restricts the term &ldquo;scientific&rdquo;
+to the people who know that they know, but are beaten by those who are
+not so conscious of their own knowledge; while I say that the term &ldquo;scientific&rdquo;
+should be applied (only that they would not like it) to the nice sensible
+people who know what&rsquo;s what rather than to the discovering class.</p>
+<p>And this is easily understood when we remember that the pioneer cannot
+hope to acquire any of the new sciences in a single lifetime so perfectly
+as to become unaware of his own knowledge.&nbsp; As a general rule,
+we observe him to be still in a state of active consciousness concerning
+whatever particular science he is extending, and as long as he is in
+this state he cannot know utterly.&nbsp; It is, as I have already so
+often insisted on, those who do not know that they know so much who
+have the firmest grip of their knowledge: the best class, for example,
+of our English youth, who live much in the open air, and, as Lord Beaconsfield
+finely said, never read.&nbsp; These are the people who know best those
+things which are best worth knowing - that is to say, they are the most
+truly scientific.&nbsp; Unfortunately, the apparatus necessary for this
+kind of science is so costly as to be within the reach of few, involving,
+as it does, an experience in the use of it for some preceding generations.&nbsp;
+Even those who are born with the means within their reach must take
+no less pains, and exercise no less self-control, before they can attain
+the perfect unconscious use of them, than would go to the making of
+a James Watt or a Stephenson; it is vain, therefore, to hope that this
+best kind of science can ever be put within the reach of the many; nevertheless
+it may be safely said that all the other and more generally recognised
+kinds of science are valueless except in so far as they tend to minister
+to this the highest kind.&nbsp; They have no <i>raison d&rsquo;&ecirc;tre</i>
+except so far as they tend to do away with the necessity for work, and
+to diffuse good health, and that good sense which is above self-consciousness.&nbsp;
+They are to be encouraged because they have rendered the most fortunate
+kind of modern European possible, and because they tend to make possible
+a still more fortunate kind than any now existing.&nbsp; But the man
+who devotes himself to science cannot - with the rarest, if any, exceptions
+- belong to this most fortunate class himself.&nbsp; He occupies a lower
+place, both scientifically and morally, for it is not possible but that
+his drudgery should somewhat soil him both in mind and health of body,
+or, if this be denied, surely it must let him and hinder him in running
+the race for unconsciousness.&nbsp; We do not feel that it increases
+the glory of a king or great nobleman that he should excel in what is
+commonly called science.&nbsp; Certainly he should not go further than
+Prince Rupert&rsquo;s drops.&nbsp; Nor should he excel in music, art,
+literature, or theology - all which things are more or less parts of
+science.&nbsp; He should be above them all, save in so far as he can
+without effort reap renown from the labours of others.&nbsp; It is a
+<i>l&acirc;che</i> in him that he should write music or books, or paint
+pictures at all; but if he must do so, his work should be at best contemptible.&nbsp;
+Much as we must condemn Marcus Aurelius, we condemn James I. ever more
+severely.</p>
+<p>It is a pity there should exist so general a confusion of thought
+upon this subject, for it may be asserted without fear of contradiction
+that there is hardly any form of immorality now rife which produces
+more disastrous effects upon those who give themselves up to it, and
+upon society in general, than the so-called science of those who know
+that they know too well to be able to know truly.&nbsp; With very clever
+people - the people who know that they know - it is much as with the
+members of the early Corinthian Church, to whom St. Paul wrote, that
+if they looked their numbers over, they would not find many wise, nor
+powerful, nor well-born people among them.&nbsp; Dog-fanciers tell us
+that performing dogs never carry their tails; such dogs have eaten of
+the tree of knowledge, and are convinced of sin accordingly - they know
+that they know things, in respect of which, therefore, they are no longer
+under grace, but under the law, and they have yet so much grace left
+as to be ashamed.&nbsp; So with the human clever dog; he may speak with
+the tongues of men and angels, but so long as he knows that he knows,
+his tail will droop.&nbsp; More especially does this hold in the case
+of those who are born to wealth and of old family.&nbsp; We must all
+feel that a rich young nobleman with a taste for science and principles
+is rarely a pleasant object.&nbsp; We do not even like the rich young
+man in the Bible who wanted to inherit eternal life, unless, indeed,
+he merely wanted to know whether there was not some way by which he
+could avoid dying, and even so he is hardly worth considering.&nbsp;
+Principles are like logic, which never yet made a good reasoner of a
+bad one, but might still be occasionally useful if they did not invariably
+contradict each other whenever there is any temptation to appeal to
+them.&nbsp; They are like fire, good servants but bad masters.&nbsp;
+As many people or more have been wrecked on principle as from want of
+principle.&nbsp; They are, as their name implies, of an elementary character,
+suitable for beginners only, and he who has so little mastered them
+as to have occasion to refer to them consciously, is out of place in
+the society of well-educated people.&nbsp; The truly scientific invariably
+hate him, and, for the most part, the more profoundly in proportion
+to the unconsciousness with which they do so.</p>
+<p>If the reader hesitates, let him go down into the streets and look
+in the shop-windows at the photographs of eminent men, whether literary,
+artistic, or scientific, and note the work which the consciousness of
+knowledge has wrought on nine out of every ten of them; then let him
+go to the masterpieces of Greek and Italian art, the truest preachers
+of the truest gospel of grace; let him look at the Venus of Milo, the
+Discobolus, the St. George of Donatello.&nbsp; If it had pleased these
+people to wish to study, there was no lack of brains to do it with;
+but imagine &ldquo;what a deal of scorn&rdquo; would &ldquo;look beautiful&rdquo;
+upon the Venus of Milo&rsquo;s face if it were suggested to her that
+she should learn to read.&nbsp; Which, think you, knows most, the Theseus,
+or any modern professor taken at random?&nbsp; True, the advancement
+of learning must have had a great share in the advancement of beauty,
+inasmuch as beauty is but knowledge perfected and incarnate - but with
+the pioneers it is <i>sic vos non vobis</i>; the grace is not for them,
+but for those who come after.&nbsp; Science is like offences.&nbsp;
+It must needs come, but woe unto that man through whom it comes; for
+there cannot be much beauty where there is consciousness of knowledge,
+and while knowledge is still new it must in the nature of things involve
+much consciousness.</p>
+<p>It is not knowledge, then, that is incompatible with beauty; there
+cannot be too much knowledge, but it must have passed through many people
+who it is to be feared must be more or less disagreeable, before beauty
+or grace will have anything to say to it; it must be so incarnate in
+a man&rsquo;s whole being that he shall not be aware of it, or it will
+fit him constrainedly as one under the law, and not as one under grace.</p>
+<p>And grace is best, for where grace is, love is not distant.&nbsp;
+Grace! the old Pagan ideal whose charm even unlovely Paul could not
+understand, but, as the legend tells us, his soul fainted within him,
+his heart misgave him, and, standing alone on the seashore at dusk,
+he &ldquo;troubled deaf heaven with his bootless cries,&rdquo; his thin
+voice pleading for grace after the flesh.</p>
+<p>The waves came in one after another, the sea-gulls cried together
+after their kind, the wind rustled among the dried canes upon the sandbanks,
+and there came a voice from heaven saying, &ldquo;Let My grace be sufficient
+for thee.&rdquo;&nbsp; Whereon, failing of the thing itself, he stole
+the word and strove to crush its meaning to the measure of his own limitations.&nbsp;
+But the true grace, with her groves and high places, and troups of young
+men and maidens crowned with flowers, and singing of love and youth
+and wine - the true grace he drove out into the wilderness - high up,
+it may be, into Piora, and into such-like places.&nbsp; Happy they who
+harboured her in her ill report.</p>
+<p>It is common to hear men wonder what new faith will be adopted by
+mankind if disbelief in the Christian religion should become general.&nbsp;
+They seem to expect that some new theological or quasi-theological system
+will arise, which, <i>mutatis mutandis</i>, shall be Christianity over
+again.&nbsp; It is a frequent reproach against those who maintain that
+the supernatural element of Christianity is without foundation, that
+they bring forward no such system of their own.&nbsp; They pull down
+but cannot build.&nbsp; We sometimes hear even those who have come to
+the same conclusions as the destroyers say, that having nothing new
+to set up, they will not attack the old.&nbsp; But how can people set
+up a new superstition, knowing it to be a superstition?&nbsp; Without
+faith in their own platform, a faith as intense as that manifested by
+the early Christians, how can they preach?&nbsp; A new superstition
+will come, but it is in the very essence of things that its apostles
+should have no suspicion of its real nature; that they should no more
+recognise the common element between the new and the old than the early
+Christians recognised it between their faith and Paganism.&nbsp; If
+they did, they would be paralysed.&nbsp; Others say that the new fabric
+may be seen rising on every side, and that the coming religion is science.&nbsp;
+Certainly its apostles preach it without misgiving, but it is not on
+that account less possible that it may prove only to be the coming superstition
+- like Christianity, true to its true votaries, and, like Christianity,
+false to those who follow it introspectively.</p>
+<p>It may well be we shall find we have escaped from one set of taskmasters
+to fall into the hands of others far more ruthless.&nbsp; The tyranny
+of the Church is light in comparison with that which future generations
+may have to undergo at the hands of the doctrinaires.&nbsp; The Church
+did uphold a grace of some sort as the <i>summum bonum</i>, in comparison
+with which all so-called earthly knowledge - knowledge, that is to say,
+which had not passed through so many people as to have become living
+and incarnate - was unimportant.&nbsp; Do what we may, we are still
+drawn to the unspoken teaching of her less introspective ages with a
+force which no falsehood could command.&nbsp; Her buildings, her music,
+her architecture, touch us as none other on the whole can do; when she
+speaks there are many of us who think that she denies the deeper truths
+of her own profounder mind, and unfortunately her tendency is now towards
+more rather than less introspection.&nbsp; The more she gives way to
+this - the more she becomes conscious of knowing - the less she will
+know.&nbsp; But still her ideal is in grace.</p>
+<p>The so-called man of science, on the other hand, seems now generally
+inclined to make light of all knowledge, save of the pioneer character.&nbsp;
+His ideal is in self-conscious knowledge.&nbsp; Let us have no more
+Lo, here, with the professor; he very rarely knows what he says he knows;
+no sooner has he misled the world for a sufficient time with a great
+flourish of trumpets than he is toppled over by one more plausible than
+himself.&nbsp; He is but medicine-man, augur, priest, in its latest
+development; useful it may be, but requiring to be well watched by those
+who value freedom.&nbsp; Wait till he has become more powerful, and
+note the vagaries which his conceit of knowledge will indulge in.&nbsp;
+The Church did not persecute while she was still weak.&nbsp; Of course
+every system has had, and will have, its heroes, but, as we all very
+well know, the heroism of the hero is but remotely due to system; it
+is due not to arguments, nor reasoning, nor to any consciously recognised
+perceptions, but to those deeper sciences which lie far beyond the reach
+of self-analysis, and for the sturdy of which there is but one schooling
+- to have had good forefathers for many generations.</p>
+<p>Above all things, let no unwary reader do me the injustice of believing
+in <i>me</i>.&nbsp; In that I write at all I am among the dammed.&nbsp;
+If he must believe in anything, let him believe in the music of Handel,
+the painting of Giovanni Bellini, and in the thirteenth chapter of St.
+Paul&rsquo;s First Epistle to the Corinthians.</p>
+<p>But to return.&nbsp; Whenever we find people knowing that they know
+this or that, we have the same story over and over again.&nbsp; They
+do not yet know it perfectly.</p>
+<p>We come, therefore, to the conclusion that our knowledge and reasoning
+thereupon, only become perfect, assured, unhesitating, when they have
+become automatic, and are thus exercised without further conscious effort
+of the mind, much in the same way as we cannot walk nor read nor write
+perfectly till we can do so automatically.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER III - APPLICATION OF FOREGOING CHAPTERS TO CERTAIN HABITS
+ACQUIRED AFTER BIRTH WHICH ARE COMMONLY CONSIDERED INSTINCTIVE.</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>What is true of knowing is also true of willing.&nbsp; The more intensely
+we will, the less is our will deliberate and capable of being recognised
+as will at all.&nbsp; So that it is common to hear men declare under
+certain circumstances that they had no will, but were forced into their
+own action under stress of passion or temptation.&nbsp; But in the more
+ordinary actions of life, we observe, as in walking or breathing, that
+we do not will anything utterly and without remnant of hesitation, till
+we have lost sight of the fact that we are exercising our will.</p>
+<p>The question, therefore, is forced upon us, how far this principle
+extends, and whether there may not be unheeded examples of its operation
+which, if we consider them, will land us in rather unexpected conclusions.&nbsp;
+If it be granted that consciousness of knowledge and of volition vanishes
+when the knowledge and the volition have become intense and perfect,
+may it not be possible that many actions which we do without knowing
+how we do them, and without any conscious exercise of the will - actions
+which we certainly could not do if we tried to do them, nor refrain
+from doing if for any reason we wished to do so - are done so easily
+and so unconsciously owing to excess of knowledge or experience rather
+than deficiency, we having done them too often, knowing how to do them
+too well, and having too little hesitation as to the method of procedure,
+to be capable of following our own action without the utter derangement
+of such action altogether; or, in other cases, because we have so long
+settled the question, that we have stowed away the whole apparatus with
+which we work in corners of our system which we cannot now conveniently
+reach?</p>
+<p>It may be interesting to see whether we can find any class or classes
+of actions which would seem to link actions which for some time after
+birth we could not do at all, and in which our proficiency has reached
+the stage of unconscious performance obviously through repeated effort
+and failure, and through this only, with actions which we could do as
+soon as we were born, and concerning which it would at first sight appear
+absurd to say that they can have been acquired by any process in the
+least analogous to that which we commonly call experience, inasmuch
+as the creature itself which does them has only just begun to exist,
+and cannot, therefore, in the very nature of things, have had experience.</p>
+<p>Can we see that actions, for the acquisition of which experience
+is such an obvious necessity, that whenever we see the acquisition we
+assume the experience, gradate away imperceptibly into actions which
+would seem, according to all reasonable analogy, to presuppose experience,
+of which, however, the time and place seem obscure, if not impossible?</p>
+<p>Eating and drinking would appear to be such actions.&nbsp; The new-born
+child cannot eat, and cannot drink, but he can swallow as soon as he
+is born; and swallowing would appear (as we may remark in passing) to
+have been an earlier faculty of animal life than that of eating with
+teeth.&nbsp; The ease and unconsciousness with which we eat and drink
+is clearly attributable to practice; but a very little practice seems
+to go a long way - a suspiciously small amount of practice - as though
+somewhere or at some other time there must have been more practice than
+we can account for.&nbsp; We can very readily stop eating or drinking,
+and can follow our own action without difficulty in either process;
+but, as regards swallowing, which is the earlier habit, we have less
+power of self-analysis and control: when we have once committed ourselves
+beyond a certain point to swallowing, we must finish doing so, - that
+is to say, our control over the operation ceases.&nbsp; Also, a still
+smaller experience seems necessary for the acquisition of the power
+to swallow than appeared necessary in the case of eating; and if we
+get into a difficulty we choke, and are more at a loss how to become
+introspective than we are about eating and drinking.</p>
+<p>Why should a baby be able to swallow - which one would have said
+was the more complicated process of the two - with so much less practice
+than it takes him to learn to eat?&nbsp; How comes it that he exhibits
+in the case of the more difficult operation all the phenomena which
+ordinarily accompany a more complete mastery and longer practice?&nbsp;
+Analogy would certainly seem to point in the direction of thinking that
+the necessary experience cannot have been wanting, and that, too, not
+in such a quibbling sort as when people talk about inherited habit or
+the experience of the race, which, without explanation, is to plain-speaking
+persons very much the same, in regard to the individual, as no experience
+at all, but <i>bon&acirc; fide</i> in the child&rsquo;s own person.</p>
+<p>Breathing, again, is an action acquired after birth, generally with
+some little hesitation and difficulty, but still acquired in a time
+seldom longer, as I am informed, than ten minutes or a quarter of an
+hour.&nbsp; For an ant which has to be acquired at all, there would
+seem here, as in the case of eating, to be a disproportion between,
+on the one hand, the intricacy of the process performed, and on the
+other, the shortness of the time taken to acquire the practice, and
+the ease and unconsciousness with which its exercise is continued from
+the moment of acquisition.</p>
+<p>We observe that in later life much less difficult and intricate operations
+than breathing acquire much longer practice before they can be mastered
+to the extent of unconscious performance.&nbsp; We observe also that
+the phenomena attendant on the learning by an infant to breathe are
+extremely like those attendant upon the repetition of some performance
+by one who has done it very often before, but who requires just a little
+prompting to set him off, on getting which, the whole familiar routine
+presents itself before him, and he repeats his task by rote.&nbsp; Surely
+then we are justified in suspecting that there must have been more <i>bon&acirc;
+fide</i> personal recollection and experience, with more effort and
+failure on the part of the infant itself than meet the eye.</p>
+<p>It should be noticed, also, that our control over breathing is very
+limited.&nbsp; We can hold our breath a little, or breathe a little
+faster for a short time, but we cannot do this for long, and after having
+gone without air for a certain time we must breath.</p>
+<p>Seeing and hearing require some practice before their free use is
+mastered, but not very much.&nbsp; They are so far within our control
+that we can see more by looking harder, and hear more by listening attentively
+- but they are beyond our control in so far as that we must see and
+hear the greater part of what presents itself to us as near, and at
+the same time unfamiliar, unless we turn away or shut our eyes, or stop
+our ears by a mechanical process; and when we do this it is a sign that
+we have already involuntarily seen or heard more than we wished.&nbsp;
+The familiar, whether sight or sound, very commonly escapes us.</p>
+<p>Take again the processes of digestion, the action of the heart, and
+the oxygenisation of the blood - processes of extreme intricacy, done
+almost entirely unconsciously, and quite beyond the control of our volition.</p>
+<p>Is it possible that our unconsciousness concerning our own performance
+of all these processes arises from over-experience?</p>
+<p>Is there anything in digestion, or the oxygenisation of the blood,
+different in kind to the rapid unconscious action of a man playing a
+difficult piece of music on the piano?&nbsp; There may be in degree,
+but as a man who sits down to play what he well knows, plays on, when
+once started, almost, as we say, mechanically, so, having eaten his
+dinner, he digests it as a matter of course, unless it has been in some
+way unfamiliar to him, or he to it, owing to some derangement or occurrence
+with which he is unfamiliar, and under which therefore he is at a loss
+now to comport himself, as a player would be at a loss how to play with
+gloves on, or with gout in his fingers, or if set to play music upside
+down.</p>
+<p>Can we show that all the acquired actions of childhood and after-life,
+which we now do unconsciously, or without conscious exercise of the
+will, are familiar acts - acts which we have already done a very great
+number of times?</p>
+<p>Can we also show that there are no acquired actions which we can
+perform in this automatic manner, which were not at one time difficult,
+requiring attention, and liable to repeated failure, our volition failing
+to command obedience from the members which should carry its purposes
+into execution?</p>
+<p>If so, analogy will point in the direction of thinking that other
+acts which we do even more unconsciously may only escape our power of
+self-examination and control because they are even more familiar - because
+we have done them oftener; and we may imagine that if there were a microscope
+which could show us the minutest atoms of consciousness and volition,
+we should find that even the apparently most automatic actions were
+yet done in due course, upon a balance of considerations, and under
+the deliberate exercise of the will.</p>
+<p>We should also incline to think that even such an action as the oxygenisation
+of its blood by an infant of ten minutes&rsquo; old, can only be done
+so well and so unconsciously, after repeated failures on the part of
+the infant itself.</p>
+<p>True, as has been already implied, we do not immediately see when
+the baby could have made the necessary mistakes and acquired that infinite
+practice without which it could never go through such complex processes
+satisfactorily; we have therefore invented the words &ldquo;hereditary
+instinct,&rdquo; and consider them as accounting for the phenomenon;
+but a very little reflection will show that though these words may be
+a very good way of stating the difficulty, they do little or nothing
+towards removing it.</p>
+<p>Why should hereditary instinct enable a creature to dispense with
+the experience which we see to be necessary in all other cases before
+difficult operations can be performed successfully?</p>
+<p>What is this talk that is made about the experience <i>of the race</i>,
+as though the experience of one man could profit another who knows nothing
+about him?&nbsp; If a man eats his dinner, it nourishes <i>him</i> and
+not his neighbour; if he learns a different art, it is <i>he</i> that
+can do it and not his neighbour.&nbsp; Yet, practically, we see that
+the vicarious experience, which seems so contrary to our common observation,
+does nevertheless appear to hold good in the case of creatures and their
+descendants.&nbsp; Is there, then, any way of bringing these apparently
+conflicting phenomena under the operation of one law?&nbsp; Is there
+any way of showing that this experience of the race, of which so much
+is said without the least attempt to show in what way it may or does
+become the experience of the individual, is in sober seriousness the
+experience of one single being only, repeating in a great many different
+ways certain performances with which he has become exceedingly familiar?</p>
+<p>It would seem that we must either suppose the conditions of experience
+to differ during the earlier stages of life from those which we observe
+them to become during the heyday of any existence - and this would appear
+very gratuitous, tolerable only as a suggestion because the beginnings
+of life are so obscure, that in such twilight we may do pretty much
+whatever we please without danger of confutation - or that we must suppose
+the continuity of life and sameness between living beings, whether plants
+or animals, and their descendants, to be far closer than we have hitherto
+believed; so that the experience of one person is not enjoyed by his
+successor, so much as that the successor is <i>bon&acirc; fide</i> but
+a part of the life of his progenitor, imbued with all his memories,
+profiting by all his experiences - which are, in fact, his own - and
+only unconscious of the extent of his own memories and experiences owing
+to their vastness and already infinite repetitions.</p>
+<p>Certainly it presents itself to us at once as a singular coincidence
+-</p>
+<p>I.&nbsp; That we are <i>most conscious of, and have most control
+over</i>, such habits as speech, the upright position, the arts and
+sciences, which are acquisitions peculiar to the human race, always
+acquired after birth, and not common to ourselves and any ancestor who
+had not become entirely human.</p>
+<p>II.&nbsp; That we are <i>less conscious of, and have less control
+over</i>, eating and drinking, swallowing, breathing, seeing and hearing,
+which were acquisitions of our prehuman ancestry, and for which we had
+provided ourselves with all the necessary apparatus before we saw light,
+but which are still, geologically speaking, recent, or comparatively
+recent.</p>
+<p>III.&nbsp; That we are <i>most unconscious of, and have least control
+over</i>, our digestion and circulation, which belonged even to our
+invertebrate ancestry, and which are habits, geologically speaking,
+of extreme antiquity.</p>
+<p>There is something too like method in this for it to be taken as
+the result of mere chance - chance again being but another illustration
+of Nature&rsquo;s love of a contradiction in terms; for everything is
+chance, and nothing is chance.&nbsp; And you may take it that all is
+chance or nothing chance, according as you please, but you must not
+have half chance and half not chance.</p>
+<p>Does it not seem as though the older and more confirmed the habit,
+the more unquestioning the act of volition, till, in the case of the
+oldest habits, the practice of succeeding existences has so formulated
+the procedure, that, on being once committed to such and such a line
+beyond a certain point, the subsequent course is so clear as to be open
+to no further doubt, to admit of no alternative, till the very power
+of questioning is gone, and even the consciousness of volition?&nbsp;
+And this too upon matters which, in earlier stages of a man&rsquo;s
+existence, admitted of passionate argument and anxious deliberation
+whether to resolve them thus or thus, with heroic hazard and experiment,
+which on the losing side proved to be vice, and on the winning virtue.&nbsp;
+For there was passionate argument once what shape a man&rsquo;s teeth
+should be, nor can the colour of his hair be considered as ever yet
+settled, or likely to be settled for a very long time.</p>
+<p>It is one against legion when a creature tries to differ from his
+own past selves.&nbsp; He must yield or die if he wants to differ widely,
+so as to lack natural instincts, such as hunger or thirst, or not to
+gratify them.&nbsp; It is more righteous in a man that he should &ldquo;eat
+strange food,&rdquo; and that his cheek should &ldquo;so much as lank
+not,&rdquo; than that he should starve if the strange food be at his
+command.&nbsp; His past selves are living in him at this moment with
+the accumulated life of centuries.&nbsp; &ldquo;Do this, this, this,
+which we too have done, and found our profit in it,&rdquo; cry the souls
+of his forefathers within him.&nbsp; Faint are the far ones, coming
+and going as the sound of bells wafted on to a high mountain; loud and
+clear are the near ones, urgent as an alarm of fire.&nbsp; &ldquo;Withhold,&rdquo;
+cry some.&nbsp; &ldquo;Go on boldly,&rdquo; cry others.&nbsp; &ldquo;Me,
+me, me, revert hitherward, my descendant,&rdquo; shouts one as it were
+from some high vantage-ground over the heads of the clamorous multitude.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Nay, but me, me, me,&rdquo; echoes another; and our former selves
+fight within us and wrangle for our possession.&nbsp; Have we not here
+what is commonly called an <i>internal tumult</i>, when dead pleasures
+and pains tug within us hither and thither?&nbsp; Then may the battle
+be decided by what people are pleased to call our own experience.&nbsp;
+Our own indeed!&nbsp; What is our own save by mere courtesy of speech?&nbsp;
+A matter of fashion.&nbsp; Sanction sanctifieth and fashion fashioneth.&nbsp;
+And so with death - the most inexorable of all conventions.</p>
+<p>However this may be, we may assume it as an axiom with regard to
+actions acquired after birth, that we never do them automatically save
+as the result of long practice, and after having thus acquired perfect
+mastery over the action in question.</p>
+<p>But given the practice or experience, and the intricacy of the process
+to be performed appears to matter very little.&nbsp; There is hardly
+anything conceivable as being done by man, which a certain amount of
+familiarity will not enable him to do, as it were mechanically and without
+conscious effort.&nbsp; &ldquo;The most complex and difficult movements,&rdquo;
+writes Mr Darwin, &ldquo;can in time be performed without the least
+effort or consciousness.&rdquo;&nbsp; All the main business of life
+is done thus unconsciously or semi-unconsciously.&nbsp; For what is
+the main business of life?&nbsp; We work that we may eat and digest,
+rather than eat and digest that we may work; this, at any rate, is the
+normal state of things: the more important business then is that which
+is carried on unconsciously.&nbsp; So again the action of the brain,
+which goes on prior to our realising the idea in which it results, is
+not perceived by the individual.&nbsp; So also all the deeper springs
+of action and conviction.&nbsp; The residuum with which we fret and
+worry ourselves is a mere matter of detail, as the higgling and haggling
+of the market, which is not over the bulk of the price, but over the
+last halfpenny.</p>
+<p>Shall we say, then, that a baby of a day old sucks (which involves
+the whole principle of the pump, and hence a profound practical knowledge
+of the laws of pneumatics and hydrostatics), digests, oxygenises its
+blood (millions of years before Sir Humphry Davy discovered oxygen),
+sees and hears - all most difficult and complicated operations, involving
+a knowledge of the facts concerning optics and acoustics, compared with
+which the discoveries of Newton sink into utter insignificance?&nbsp;
+Shall we say that a baby can do all these things at once, doing them
+so well and so regularly, without being even able to direct its attention
+to them, and without mistake, and at the same time not know how to do
+them, and never have done them before?</p>
+<p>Such an assertion would be a contradiction to the whole experience
+of mankind.&nbsp; Surely the <i>onus probandi</i> must rest with him
+who makes it.</p>
+<p>A man may make a lucky hit now and again by what is called a fluke,
+but even this must be only a little in advance of his other performances
+of the same kind.&nbsp; He may multiply seven by eight by a fluke after
+a little study of the multiplication table, but he will not be able
+to extract the cube root of 4913 by a fluke, without long training in
+arithmetic, any more than an agricultural labourer would be able to
+operate successfully for cataract.&nbsp; If, then, a grown man cannot
+perform so simple an operation as that we will say, for cataract, unless
+he have been long trained in other similar operations, and until he
+has done what comes to the same thing many times over, with what show
+of reason can we maintain that one who is so far less capable than a
+grown man, can perform such vastly more difficult operations, without
+knowing how to do them, and without ever having done them before?&nbsp;
+There is no sign of &ldquo;fluke&rdquo; about the circulation of a baby&rsquo;s
+blood.&nbsp; There may perhaps be some little hesitation about its earliest
+breathing, but this, as a general rule, soon passes over, both breathing
+and circulation, within an hour after birth, being as regular and easy
+as at any time during life.&nbsp; Is it reasonable, then, to say that
+the baby does these things without knowing how to do them, and without
+ever having done them before, and continues to do them by a series of
+lifelong flukes?</p>
+<p>It would be well if those who feel inclined to hazard such an assertion
+would find some other instances of intricate processes gone through
+by people who know nothing about them, and never had any practice therein.&nbsp;
+What <i>is</i> to know how to do a thing?&nbsp; Surely to do it.&nbsp;
+What is proof that we know how to do a thing?&nbsp; Surely the fact
+that we can do it.&nbsp; A man shows that he knows how to throw the
+boomerang by throwing the boomerang.&nbsp; No amount of talking or writing
+can get over this; <i>ipso facto</i>, that a baby breathes and makes
+its blood circulate, it knows how to do so and the fact that it does
+not know its own knowledge is only proof of the perfection of that knowledge,
+and of the vast number of past occasions on which it must have been
+exercised already.&nbsp; As we have said already, it is less obvious
+when the baby could have gained its experience, so as to be able so
+readily to remember exactly what to do; but it is more easy to suppose
+that the necessary occasions cannot have been wanting, than that the
+power which we observe should have been obtained without practice and
+memory.</p>
+<p>If we saw any self-consciousness on the baby&rsquo;s part about its
+breathing or circulation, we might suspect that it had had less experience,
+or profited less by its experience, than its neighbours - exactly in
+the same manner as we suspect a deficiency of any quality which we see
+a man inclined to parade.&nbsp; We all become introspective when we
+find that we do not know our business, and whenever we are introspective
+we may generally suspect that we are on the verge of unproficiency.&nbsp;
+Unfortunately, in the case of sickly children, we observe that they
+sometimes do become conscious of their breathing and circulation, just
+as in later life we become conscious that we have a liver or a digestion.&nbsp;
+In that case there is always something wrong.&nbsp; The baby that becomes
+aware of its breathing does not know how to breathe, and will suffer
+for his ignorance and incapacity, exactly in the same way as he will
+suffer in later life for ignorance and incapacity in any other respect
+in which his peers are commonly knowing and capable.&nbsp; In the case
+of inability to breath, the punishment is corporal, breathing being
+a matter of fashion, so old and long settled that nature can admit of
+no departure from the established custom, and the procedure in case
+of failure is as much formulated as the fashion itself in the case of
+the circulation, the whole performance has become one so utterly of
+rote, that the mere discovery that we could do it at all was considered
+one of the highest flights of human genius.</p>
+<p>It has been said a day will come when the Polar ice shall have accumulated,
+till it forms vast continents many thousands of feet above the level
+of the sea, all of solid ice.&nbsp; The weight of this mass will, it
+is believed, cause the world to topple over on its axis, so that the
+earth will be upset as an ant-heap overturned by a ploughshare.&nbsp;
+In that day time icebergs will come crunching against our proudest cities,
+razing them from off the face of the earth as though they were made
+of rotten blotting-paper.&nbsp; There is no respect now of Handel nor
+of Shakespeare; the works of Rembrandt and Bellini fossilise at the
+bottom of the sea.&nbsp; Grace, beauty, and wit, all that is precious
+in music, literature, and art - all gone.&nbsp; In the morning there
+was Europe.&nbsp; In the evening there are no more populous cities nor
+busy hum of men, but a sea of jagged ice, a lurid sunset, and the doom
+of many ages.&nbsp; Then shall a scared remnant escape in places, and
+settle upon the changed continent when the waters have subsided - a
+simple people, busy hunting shellfish on the drying ocean beds, and
+with little time for introspection yet they can read and write and sum,
+for by that time these accomplishments will have become universal, and
+will be acquired as easily as we now learn to talk; but they do so as
+a matter of course, and without self-consciousness.&nbsp; Also they
+make the simpler kinds of machinery too easily to be able to follow
+their own operations - the manner of their own apprenticeship being
+to them as a buried city.&nbsp; May we not imagine that, after the lapse
+of another ten thousand years or so, some one of them may again become
+cursed with lust of introspection, and a second Harvey may astonish
+the world by discovering that it can read and write, and that steam-engines
+do not grow, but are made?&nbsp; It may be safely prophesied that he
+will die a martyr, and be honoured in the fourth generation.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV - APPLICATION OF THE FOREGOING PRINCIPLES TO ACTIONS
+AND HABITS ACQUIRED BEFORE BIRTH</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>But if we once admit the principle that consciousness and volition
+have a tendency to vanish as soon as practice has rendered any habit
+exceedingly familiar, so that the mere presence of an elaborate but
+unconscious performance shall carry with it a presumption of infinite
+practice, we shall find it impossible to draw the line at those actions
+which we see acquired after birth, no matter at how early a period.&nbsp;
+The whole history and development of the embryo in all its stages forces
+itself on our consideration.&nbsp; Birth has been made too much of.&nbsp;
+It is a salient feature in the history of the individual, but not more
+salient than a hundred others, and far less so than the commencement
+of his existence as a single cell uniting in itself elements derived
+from both parents, or perhaps than any point in his whole existence
+as an embryo.&nbsp; For many years after we are born we are still very
+incomplete.&nbsp; We cease to oxygenise our blood vicariously as soon
+as we are born, but we still derive our sustenance from our mothers.&nbsp;
+Birth is but the beginning of doubt, the first hankering after scepticism,
+the dreaming of a dawn of trouble, the end of certainty and of settled
+convictions.&nbsp; Not but what before birth there have been unsettled
+convictions (more&rsquo;s the pity) with not a few, and after birth
+we have still so made up our minds upon many points as to have no further
+need of reflection concerning them; nevertheless, in the main, birth
+is the end of that time when we really knew our business, and the beginning
+of the days wherein we know not what we would do, or do.&nbsp; It is
+therefore the beginning of consciousness, and infancy is as the dosing
+of one who turns in his bed on waking, and takes another short sleep
+before he rises.&nbsp; When we were yet unborn, our thoughts kept the
+roadway decently enough; then were we blessed; we thought as every man
+thinks, and held the same opinions as our fathers and mothers had done
+upon nearly every subject.&nbsp; Life was not an art - and a very difficult
+art - much too difficult to be acquired in a lifetime; it was a science
+of which we were consummate masters.</p>
+<p>In this sense, then, birth may indeed be looked upon as the most
+salient feature in a man&rsquo;s life; but this is not at all the sense
+in which it is commonly so regarded.&nbsp; It is commonly considered
+as the point at which we begin to live.&nbsp; More truly it is the point
+at which we leave off knowing how to live.</p>
+<p>A chicken, for example, is never so full of consciousness, activity,
+reasoning faculty, and volition, as when it is an embryo in the eggshell,
+making bones, and flesh, and feathers, and eyes, and claws, with nothing
+but a little warmth and white of egg to make them from.&nbsp; This is
+indeed to make bricks with but a small modicum of straw.&nbsp; There
+is no man in the whole world who knows consciously and articulately
+as much as a half-hatched hen&rsquo;s egg knows unconsciously.&nbsp;
+Surely the egg in its own way must know quite as much as the chicken
+does.&nbsp; We say of the chicken that it knows how to run about as
+soon as it is hatched.&nbsp; So it does; but had it no knowledge before
+it was hatched?&nbsp; What made it lay the foundations of those limbs
+which should enable it to run about?&nbsp; What made it grow a horny
+tip to its bill before it was hatched, so that it might peck all round
+the larger end of the eggshell and make a hole for itself to get out
+at?&nbsp; Having once got outside the eggshell, the chicken throws away
+this horny tip; but is it reasonable to suppose that it would have grown
+it at all unless it had known that it would want something with which
+to break the eggshell?&nbsp; And again, is it in the least agreeable
+to our experience that such elaborate machinery should be made without
+endeavour, failure, perseverance, intelligent contrivance, experience,
+and practice?</p>
+<p>In the presence of such considerations, it seems impossible to refrain
+from thinking that there must be a closer continuity of identity, life,
+and memory, between successive generations than we generally imagine.&nbsp;
+To shear the thread of life, and hence of memory, between one generation
+and its successor, is so to speak, a brutal measure, an act of intellectual
+butchery, and like all such strong high-handed measures, a sign of weakness
+in him who is capable of it till all other remedies have been exhausted.&nbsp;
+It is mere horse science, akin to the theories of the convulsionists
+in the geological kingdom, and of the believers in the supernatural
+origin of the species of plants and animals.&nbsp; Yet it is to be feared
+that we have not a few among us who would feel shocked rather at the
+attempt towards a milder treatment of the facts before them, than at
+a continuance of the present crass tyranny with which we try to crush
+them inside our preconceived opinions.&nbsp; It is quite common to hear
+men of education maintain that not even when it was on the point of
+being hatched, had the chicken sense enough to know that it wanted to
+get outside the eggshell.&nbsp; It did indeed peck all round the end
+of the shell, which, if it wanted to get out, would certainly be the
+easiest way of effecting its purpose; but it did not, they say, peck
+because it was aware of this, but &ldquo;promiscuously.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Curious, such a uniformity of promiscuous action among so many eggs
+for so many generations.&nbsp; If we see a man knock a hole in a wall
+on finding that he cannot get out of a place by any other means, and
+if we see him knock this hole in a very workmanlike way, with an implement
+with which he has been at great pains to make for a long the past, but
+which he throws away as soon as he has no longer use for it, thus showing
+that he had made it expressly for the purpose of escape, do we say that
+this person made the implement and broke the wall of his prison promiscuously?&nbsp;
+No jury would acquit a burglar on these grounds.&nbsp; Then why, without
+much more evidence to the contrary than we have, or can hope to have,
+should we not suppose that with chickens, as with men, signs of contrivance
+are indeed signs of contrivance, however quick, subtle, and untraceable,
+the contrivance may be?&nbsp; Again, I have heard people argue that
+though the chicken, when nearly hatched, had such a glimmering of sense
+that it pecked the shell because it wanted to get out, yet that it is
+not conceivable that, so long before it was hatched, it should have
+had the sense to grow the horny tip to its bill for use when wanted.&nbsp;
+This, at any rate, they say, it must have grown, as the persons previously
+referred to would maintain, promiscuously.</p>
+<p>Now no one indeed supposes that the chicken does what it does, with
+the same self-consciousness with which a tailor makes a suit of clothes.&nbsp;
+Not any one who has thought upon the subject is likely to do it so great
+an injustice.&nbsp; The probability is that it knows what it is about
+to an extent greater than any tailor ever did or will, for, to say the
+least of it, many thousands of years to come.&nbsp; It works with such
+absolute certainty and so vast an experience, that it is utterly incapable
+of following the operations of its own mind - as accountants have been
+known to add up long columns of pounds, shillings, and pence, running
+the three fingers of one hand, a finger for each column, up the page,
+and putting the result down correctly at the bottom, apparently without
+an effort.&nbsp; In the case of the accountant, we say that the processes
+which his mind goes through are so rapid and subtle as to elude his
+own power of observation as well as ours.&nbsp; We do not deny that
+his mind goes though processes of some kind; we very readily admit that
+it must do so, and say that these processes are so rapid and subtle,
+owing, as a general rule, to long experience in addition.&nbsp; Why
+then should we find it so difficult to conceive that this principle,
+which we observe to play so large a part in mental physiology, wherever
+we can observe mental physiology at all, may have a share also in the
+performance of intricate operations otherwise inexplicable, though the
+creature performing them is not man, or man only in embryo?</p>
+<p>Again, after the chicken is hatched, it grows more feathers and bones
+and blood, but we still say that it knows nothing about all this.&nbsp;
+What then do we say it <i>does</i> know?&nbsp; One is almost ashamed
+to confess that we only credit it with knowing what it appears to know
+by processes which we find it exceedingly easy to follow, or perhaps
+rather, which we find it absolutely impossible to avoid following, as
+recognising too great a family likeness between them, and those which
+are most easily followed in our own minds, to be able to sit down in
+comfort under a denial of the resemblance.&nbsp; Thus, for example,
+if we see a chicken running away from a fox, we do admit that the chicken
+knows the fox would kill it if it caught it.</p>
+<p>On the other hand, if we allow that the half-hatched chicken grew
+the horny tip to be ready for use, with an intensity of unconscious
+contrivance which can be only attributed to experience, we are driven
+to admit that from the first moment the men began to sit upon it - and
+earlier too than this - the egg was always full of consciousness and
+volition, and that during its embryological condition the unhatched
+chicken is doing exactly what it continues doing from the moment it
+is hatched till it dies; that is to say, attempting to better itself,
+doing (as Aristotle says all creatures do all things upon all occasions)
+what it considers most for its advantage under the existing circumstances.&nbsp;
+What it may think most advantageous will depend, while it is in the
+eggshell, upon exactly the same causes as will influence its opinions
+in later life - to wit, upon its habits, its past circumstances and
+ways of thinking; for there is nothing, as Shakespeare tells us, good
+or ill, but thinking makes it so.</p>
+<p>The egg thinks feathers much more to its advantage than hair or fur,
+and much more easily made.&nbsp; If it could speak, it would probably
+tell us that we could make them ourselves very easily after a few lessons,
+if we took the trouble to try, but that hair was another matter, which
+it really could not see how any protoplasm could be got to make.&nbsp;
+Indeed, during the more intense and active part of our existence, in
+the earliest stages, that is to say, of our embryological life, we could
+probably have turned our protoplasm into feathers instead of hair if
+we had cared about doing so.&nbsp; If the chicken can make feathers,
+there seems no sufficient reason for thinking that we cannot do so,
+beyond the fact that we prefer hair, and have preferred it for so many
+ages that we have lost the art along with the desire of making feathers,
+if indeed any of our ancestors ever possessed it.&nbsp; The stuff with
+which we make hair is practically the same as that with which chickens
+make feathers.&nbsp; It is nothing but protoplasm, and protoplasm is
+like certain prophecies, out of which anything can be made by the creature
+which wants to make it.&nbsp; Everything depends upon whether a creature
+knows its own mind sufficiently well, and has enough faith in its own
+powers of achievement.&nbsp; When these two requisites are wanting,
+the strongest giant cannot lift a two-ounce weight; when they are given,
+a bullock can take an eyelash out of its eye with its hind-foot, or
+a minute jelly speck can build itself a house out of various materials
+which it will select according to its purpose with the nicest care,
+though it have neither brain to think with, nor eyes to see with, nor
+hands nor feet to work with, nor is it anything but a minute speck of
+jelly - faith and protoplasm only.</p>
+<p>That this is indeed so, the following passage from Dr. Carpenter&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Mental Physiology&rdquo; may serve to show:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The simplest type of an animal consists of a minute mass of
+&lsquo;protoplasm,&rsquo; or living jelly, which is not yet <i>differentiated</i>
+into &lsquo;organs;&rsquo; every part having the same endowments, and
+taking an equal share in every action which the creature performs.&nbsp;
+One of these &lsquo;jelly specks,&rsquo; the am&oelig;ba, moves itself
+about by changing the form of its body, extemporising a foot (or pseudopodium),
+first in one direction, and then in another; and then, when it has met
+with a nutritive particle, extemporises a stomach for its reception,
+by wrapping its soft body around it.&nbsp; Another, instead of going
+about in search of food, remains in one place, but projects its protoplasmic
+substance into long pseudopodia, which entrap and draw in very minute
+particles, or absorb nutrient material from the liquid through which
+they extend themselves, and are continually becoming fused (as it were)
+into the central body, which is itself continually giving off new pseudopodia.&nbsp;
+Now we can scarcely conceive that a creature of such simplicity should
+possess any distinct <i>consciousness</i> of its needs&rdquo; (why not?),
+&ldquo;or that its actions should be directed by any <i>intention</i>
+of its own; and yet the writer has lately found results of the most
+singular elaborateness to be wrought out by the instrumentality of these
+minute jelly specks, which build up tests or casings of the most regular
+geometrical symmetry of form, and of the most artificial construction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>On this Dr. Carpenter remarks:- &ldquo;Suppose a human mason to be
+put down by the side of a pile of stones of various shapes and sizes,
+and to be told to build a dome of these, smooth on both surfaces, without
+using more than the least possible quantity of a very tenacious, but
+very costly, cement, in holding the stones together.&nbsp; If he accomplished
+this well, he would receive credit for great intelligence and skill.&nbsp;
+Yet this is exactly what these little &lsquo;jelly specks&rsquo; do
+on a most minute scale; the &lsquo;tests&rsquo; they construct, when
+highly magnified, bearing comparison with the most skilful masonry of
+man.&nbsp; From <i>the same sandy bottom</i> one species picks up the
+<i>coarser</i> quartz grains, cements them together with <i>phosphate
+of iron</i> secreted from its own substance&rdquo; (should not this
+rather be, &ldquo;which it has contrived in some way or other to manufacture&rdquo;?)
+and thus constructs a flask-shaped &lsquo;test,&rsquo; having a short
+neck and a large single orifice.&nbsp; Another picks up the <i>finest</i>
+grains, and puts them together, with the same cement, into perfectly
+spherical &lsquo;tests&rsquo; of the most extraordinary finish, perforated
+with numerous small pores disposed at pretty regular intervals.&nbsp;
+Another selects the <i>minutest</i> sand grains and the terminal portions
+of sponge spicules, and works them up together - apparently with no
+cement at all, by the mere laying of the spicules - into perfect white
+spheres, like hom&oelig;opathic globules, each having a single-fissured
+orifice.&nbsp; And another, which makes a straight, many-chambered &lsquo;test,&rsquo;
+that resembles in form the chambered shell of an orthoceratite - the
+conical mouth of each chamber projecting into the cavity of the next
+- while forming the walls of its chambers of ordinary sand grains rather
+loosely held together, shapes the conical mouth of the successive chambers
+by firmly cementing together grains of ferruginous quartz, which it
+must have picked out from the general mass.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;To give these actions,&rdquo; continues Dr. Carpenter, &ldquo;the
+vague designation of &lsquo;instinctive&rsquo; does not in the least
+help us to account for them, since what we want is to discover the <i>mechanism</i>
+by which they are worked out; and it is most difficult to conceive how
+so artificial a selection can be made by a creature so simple&rdquo;
+(Mental Physiology, 4th ed. pp. 41-43)</p>
+<p>This is what protoplasm can do when it has the talisman of faith
+- of faith which worketh all wonders, either in the heavens above, or
+in the earth beneath, or in the waters under the earth.&nbsp; Truly
+if a man have faith, even as a grain of mustard seed, though he may
+not be able to remove mountains, he will at any rate be able to do what
+is no less difficult - make a mustard plant.</p>
+<p>Yet this is but a barren kind of comfort, for we have not, and in
+the nature of things cannot have, sufficient faith in the unfamiliar,
+inasmuch as the very essence of faith involves the notion of familiarity,
+which can grow but slowly, from experience to confidence, and can make
+no sudden leap at any time.&nbsp; Such faith cannot be founded upon
+reason, - that is to say, upon a recognised perception on the part of
+the person holding it that he is holding it, and of the reasons for
+his doing so - or it will shift as other reasons come to disturb it.&nbsp;
+A house built upon reason is a house built upon the sand.&nbsp; It must
+be built upon the current cant and practice of one&rsquo;s peers, for
+this is the rock which, though not immovable, is still most hard to
+move.</p>
+<p>But however this may be, we observe broadly that the intensity of
+the will to make this or that, and of the confidence that one can make
+it, depends upon the length of time during which the maker&rsquo;s forefathers
+have wanted the same thing before it; the older the custom the more
+inveterate the habit, and, with the exception, perhaps, that the reproductive
+system is generally the crowning act of development - an exception which
+I will hereafter explain - the earlier its manifestation, until, for
+some reason or another, we relinquish it and take to another, which
+we must, as a general rule, again adhere to for a vast number of generations,
+before it will permanently supplant the older habit.&nbsp; In our own
+case, the habit of breathing like a fish through gills may serve as
+an example.&nbsp; We have now left off this habit, yet we did it formerly
+for so many generations that we still do it a little; it still crosses
+our embryological existence like a faint memory or dream, for not easily
+is an inveterate habit broken.&nbsp; On the other hand - again speaking
+broadly - the more recent the habit the later the fashion of its organ,
+as with the teeth, speech, and the higher intellectual powers, which
+are too new for development before we are actually born.</p>
+<p>But to return for a short time to Dr. Carpenter.&nbsp; Dr. Carpenter
+evidently feels, what must indeed be felt by every candid mind, that
+there is no sufficient reason for supposing that these little specks
+of jelly, without brain or eyes, or stomach, or hands, or feet, but
+the very lowest known form of animal life, are not imbued with a consciousness
+of their needs, and the reasoning faculties which shall enable them
+to gratify those needs in a manner, all things considered, equalling
+the highest flights of the ingenuity of the highest animal - man.&nbsp;
+This is no exaggeration.&nbsp; It is true, that in an earlier part of
+the passage, Dr. Carpenter has said that we can scarcely conceive so
+simple a creature to &ldquo;possess any distinct <i>consciousness</i>
+of its needs, or that its actions should be directed by any intention
+of its own;&rdquo; but, on the other hand, a little lower down he says,
+that if a workman did what comes to the same thing as what the am&oelig;ba
+does, he &ldquo;would receive credit for great intelligence and skill.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Now if an am&oelig;ba can do that, for which a workman would receive
+credit as for a highly skilful and intelligent performance, the am&oelig;ba
+should receive no less credit than the workman; he should also be no
+less credited with skill and intelligence, which words unquestionably
+involve a distinct consciousness of needs and an action directed by
+an intention of its own.&nbsp; So that Dr. Carpenter seems rather to
+blow hot and cold with one breath.&nbsp; Nevertheless there can be no
+doubt to which side the minds of the great majority of mankind will
+incline upon the evidence before them; they will say that the creature
+is highly reasonable and intelligent, though they would readily admit
+that long practice and familiarity may have exhausted its powers of
+attention to all the stages of its own performance, just as a practised
+workman in building a wall certainly does not consciously follow all
+the processes which he goes through.</p>
+<p>As an example, however, of the extreme dislike which philosophers
+of a certain school have for making the admissions which seem somewhat
+grudgingly conceded by Dr. Carpenter, we may take the paragraph which
+immediately follows the ones which we have just quoted.&nbsp; Dr. Carpenter
+there writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The writer has often amused himself and others, when by the
+seaside, with getting a <i>terebella</i> (a marine worm that cases its
+body in a sandy tube) out of its house, and then, putting it into a
+saucer of water with a supply of sand and comminuted shell, watching
+its appropriation of these materials in constructing a new tube.&nbsp;
+The extended tentacles soon spread themselves over the bottom of the
+saucer and lay hold of whatever comes in their way, &lsquo;all being
+fish that comes to their net,&rsquo; and in half an hour or thereabouts
+the new house is finished, though on a very rude and artificial type.&nbsp;
+Now here the organisation is far higher; the instrumentality obviously
+serves the needs of the animal and suffices for them; and we characterise
+the action, on account of its uniformity and apparent <i>un</i>intelligence,
+as instinctive.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>No comment will, one would think, be necessary to make the reader
+feel that the difference between the terebella and the am&oelig;ba is
+one of degree rather than kind, and that if the action of the second
+is as conscious and reasonable as that, we will say, of a bird making
+her nest, the action of the first should be so also.&nbsp; It is only
+a question of being a little less skilful, or more so, but skill and
+intelligence would seem present in both cases.&nbsp; Moreover, it is
+more clever of the terebella to have made itself the limbs with which
+it can work, than of the am&oelig;ba to be able to work without the
+limbs; and perhaps it is more sensible also to want a less elaborate
+dwelling, provided it is sufficient for practical purposes.&nbsp; But
+whether the terebella be less intelligent than the am&oelig;ba or not,
+it does quite enough to establish its claim to intelligence of a higher
+order; and one does not see ground for the satisfaction which Dr. Carpenter
+appears to find at having, as it were, taken the taste of the am&oelig;ba&rsquo;s
+performance out of our mouth, by setting us about the less elaborate
+performance of the terebella, which he thinks we can call unintelligent
+and instinctive.</p>
+<p>I may be mistaken in the impression I have derived from the paragraphs
+I have quoted.&nbsp; I commonly say they give me the impression that
+I have tried to convey to the reader, <i>i.e</i>., that the writer&rsquo;s
+assent to anything like intelligence, or consciousness of needs, an
+animal low down in the scale of life, is grudging, and that he is more
+comfortable when he has got hold of onto to which he can point and say
+that mere, at any rate, is an unintelligent and merely instinctive creature.&nbsp;
+I have only called attention to the passage as an example of the intellectual
+bias of a large number of exceedingly able and thoughtful persons, among
+whom, so far as I am able to form an opinion at all, few have greater
+claims to our respectful attention than Dr. Carpenter himself.</p>
+<p>For the embryo of a chicken, then, we damn exactly the same kind
+of reasoning power and contrivance which we damn for the am&oelig;ba,
+or for our own intelligent performances in later life.&nbsp; We do not
+claim for it much, if any, perception of its own forethought, for we
+know very well that it is among the most prominent features of intellectual
+activity that, after a number of repetitions, it ceases to be perceived,
+and that it does not, in ordinary cases, cease to be perceived till
+after a very great number of repetitions.&nbsp; The fact that the embryo
+chicken makes itself always as nearly as may be in the same way, would
+lead us to suppose that it would be unconscious of much of its own action,
+<i>provided it were always the same chicken which made itself over and
+over again</i>.&nbsp; So far we can see, it always <i>is</i> unconscious
+of the greater part of its own wonderful performance.&nbsp; Surely then
+we have a presumption that <i>it is the same chicken which makes itself
+over and over again</i>; for such unconsciousness is not won, so far
+as our experience goes, by any other means than by frequent repetition
+of the same act on the part of one and the same individual.&nbsp; How
+this can be we shall perceive in subsequent chapters.&nbsp; In the meantime,
+we may say that all knowledge and volition would seem to be merely parts
+of the knowledge and volition of the primordial cell (whatever this
+may be), which slumbers but never dies - which has grown, and multiplied,
+and differentiated itself into the compound life of the womb, and which
+never becomes conscious of knowing what it has once learnt effectually,
+till it is for some reason on the point of, or in danger of, forgetting
+it.</p>
+<p>The action, therefore, of an embryo making its way up in the world
+from a simple cell to a baby, developing for itself eyes, ears, hands,
+and feet while yet unborn, proves to be exactly of one and the same
+kind as that of a man of fifty who goes into the City and tells his
+broker to buy him so many Great Northern A shares - that is to say,
+an effort of the will exercised in due course on a balance of considerations
+as to the immediate expediency, and guided by past experience; while
+children who do not reach birth are but prenatal spendthrifts, ne&rsquo;er-do-weels,
+inconsiderate innovators, the unfortunate in business, either through
+their own fault or that of others, or through inevitable mischances,
+beings who are culled out before birth instead of after; so that even
+the lowest idiot, the most contemptible in health or beauty, may yet
+reflect with pride that they were <i>born</i>.&nbsp; Certainly we observe
+that those who have had good fortune (mother and sole cause of virtue,
+and sole virtue in itself), and have profited by their experience, and
+known their business best before birth, so that they made themselves
+both to be and to look well, do commonly on an average prove to know
+it best in after-life: they grow their clothes best who have grown their
+limbs best.&nbsp; It is rare that those who have not remembered how
+to finish their own bodies fairly well should finish anything well in
+later life.&nbsp; But how small is the addition to their unconscious
+attainments which even the Titans of human intellect have consciously
+accomplished, in comparison with the problems solved by the meanest
+baby living, nay, even by one whose birth is untimely!&nbsp; In other
+words, how vast is that back knowledge over which we have gone fast
+asleep, through the prosiness of perpetual repetition; and how little
+in comparison, is that whose novelty keeps it still within the scope
+of our conscious perception!&nbsp; What is the discovery of the laws
+of gravitation as compared with the knowledge which sleeps in every
+hen&rsquo;s egg upon a kitchen shelf?</p>
+<p>It is all a matter of habit and fashion.&nbsp; Thus we see kings
+and councillors of the earth admired for facing death before what they
+are pleased to call dishonour.&nbsp; If, on being required to go without
+anything they have been accustomed to, or to change their habits, or
+do what is unusual in the case of other kings under like circumstances,
+then, if they but fold their cloak decently around them, and die upon
+the spot of shame at having had it even required of them to do thus
+or thus, then are they kings indeed, of old race, that know their business
+from generation to generation.&nbsp; Or if, we will say, a prince, on
+having his dinner brought to him ill-cooked, were to feel the indignity
+so keenly as that he should turn his face to the wall, and breathe out
+his wounded soul in one sigh, do we not admire him as a &ldquo;<i>real</i>
+prince,&rdquo; who knows the business of princes so well that he can
+conceive of nothing foreign to it in connection with himself, the bare
+effort to realise a state of things other than what princes have been
+accustomed to being immediately fatal to him?&nbsp; Yet is there no
+less than this in the demise of every half-hatched hen&rsquo;s egg,
+shaken rudely by a schoolboy, or neglected by a truant mother; for surely
+the prince would not die if he knew how to do otherwise, and the hen&rsquo;s
+egg only dies of being required to do something to which it is not accustomed.</p>
+<p>But the further consideration of this and other like reflections
+would too long detain us.&nbsp; Suffice it that we have established
+the position that all living creatures which show any signs of intelligence,
+must certainly each one have already gone through the embryonic stages
+an infinite number of times, or they could no more have achieved the
+intricate process of self-development unconsciously, than they could
+play the piano unconsciously without any previous knowledge of the instrument.&nbsp;
+It remains, therefore, to show the when and where of their having done
+so, and this leads us naturally to the subject of the following chapter
+- Personal Identity.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER V - PERSONAL IDENTITY</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Strange difficulties have been raised by some,&rdquo; says
+Bishop Butler, &ldquo;concerning personal identity, or the sameness
+of living agents as implied in the notion of our existing now and hereafter,
+or indeed in any two consecutive moments.&rdquo;&nbsp; But in truth
+it is not easy to see the strangeness of the difficulty, if the words
+either &ldquo;personal&rdquo; or &ldquo;identity&rdquo; are used in
+any strictness.</p>
+<p>Personality is one of those ideas with which we are so familiar that
+we have lost sight of the foundations upon which it rests.&nbsp; We
+regard our personality as a simple definite whole; as a plain, palpable,
+individual thing, which can be seen going about the streets or sitting
+indoors at home, which lasts us our lifetime, and about the confines
+of which no doubt can exist in the minds of reasonable people.&nbsp;
+But in truth this &ldquo;we,&rdquo; which looks so simple and definite,
+is a nebulous and indefinable aggregation of many component parts which
+war not a little among themselves, our perception of our existence at
+all being perhaps due to this very clash of warfare, as our sense of
+sound and light is due to the jarring of vibrations.&nbsp; Moreover,
+as the component parts of our identity change from moment to moment,
+our personality becomes a thing dependent upon the present, which has
+no logical existence, but lives only upon the sufferance of times past
+and future, slipping out of our hands into the domain of one or other
+of these two claimants the moment we try to apprehend it.&nbsp; And
+not only is our personality as fleeting as the present moment, but the
+parts which compose it blend some of them so imperceptibly into, and
+are so inextricably linked on to, outside things which clearly form
+no part of our personality, that when we try to bring ourselves to book,
+and determine wherein we consist, or to draw a line as to where we begin
+or end, we find ourselves completely baffled.&nbsp; There is nothing
+but fusion and confusion.</p>
+<p>Putting theology on one side, and dealing only with the common daily
+experience of mankind, our body is certainly part of our personality.&nbsp;
+With the destruction of our bodies, our personality, as far as we can
+follow it, comes to a full stop; and with every modification of them
+it is correspondingly modified.&nbsp; But what are the limits of our
+bodies?&nbsp; They are composed of parts, some of them so unessential
+as to be hardly included in personality at all, and to be separable
+from ourselves without perceptible effect, as the hair, nails, and daily
+waste of tissue.&nbsp; Again, other parts are very important, as our
+hands, feet, arms, legs, &amp;c., but still are no essential parts of
+our &ldquo;self&rdquo; or &ldquo;soul,&rdquo; which continues to exist
+in spite of their amputation.&nbsp; Other parts, as the brain, heart,
+and blood, are so essential that they cannot be dispensed with, yet
+it is impossible to say that personality consists in any one of them.</p>
+<p>Each one of these component members of our personality is continually
+dying and being born again, supported in this process by the food we
+eat, the water we drink, and the air we breathe; which three things
+link us on, and fetter us down, to the organic and inorganic world about
+us.&nbsp; For our meat and drink, though no part of our personality
+before we eat and drink, cannot, after we have done so, be separated
+entirely from us without the destruction of our personality altogether,
+so far as we can follow it; and who shall say at what precise moment
+our food has or has not become part of ourselves?&nbsp; A famished man
+eats food; after a short time his whole personality is so palpably affected
+that we know the food to have entered into him and taken, as it were,
+possession of him; but who can say at what precise moment it did so?&nbsp;
+Thus we find that we are rooted into outside things and melt away into
+them, nor can any man say he consists absolutely in this or that, nor
+define himself so certainly as to include neither more nor less than
+himself; many undoubted parts of his personality being more separable
+from it, and changing it less when so separated, both to his own senses
+and those of other people, than other parts which are strictly speaking
+no parts at all.</p>
+<p>A man&rsquo;s clothes, for example, as they lie on a chair at night
+are no part of him, but when he wears them they would appear to be so,
+as being a kind of food which warms him and hatches him, and the loss
+of which may kill him of cold.&nbsp; If this be denied, and a man&rsquo;s
+clothes be considered as no part of his self, nevertheless they, with
+his money, and it may perhaps be added his religious opinions, stamp
+a man&rsquo;s individuality as strongly as any natural feature could
+stamp it.&nbsp; Change in style of dress, gain or loss of money, make
+a man feel and appear more changed than having his chin shaved or his
+nails cut.&nbsp; In fact, as soon as we leave common parlance on one
+side, and try for a scientific definition of personality, we find that
+there is none possible, any more than there can be a demonstration of
+the fact that we exist at all - a demonstration for which, as for that
+of a personal God, many have hunted but none have found.&nbsp; The only
+solid foundation is, as in the case of the earth&rsquo;s crust, pretty
+near the surface of things; the deeper we try to go, the damper and
+darker and altogether more uncongenial we find it.&nbsp; There is no
+knowing into what quagmire of superstition we may not find ourselves
+drawn, if we once cut ourselves adrift from those superficial aspects
+of things, in which alone our nature permits us to be comforted.</p>
+<p>Common parlance, however, settles the difficulty readily enough (as
+indeed it settles most others if they show signs of awkwardness) by
+the simple process of ignoring it: we decline, and very properly, to
+go into the question of where personality begins and ends, but assume
+it to be known by every one, and throw the onus of not knowing it upon
+the over-curious, who had better think as their neighbours do, right
+or wrong, or there is no knowing into what villainy they may not presently
+fall.</p>
+<p>Assuming, then, that every one knows what is meant by the word &ldquo;person&rdquo;
+(and such superstitious bases as this are the foundations upon which
+all action, whether of man, beast, or plant, is constructed and rendered
+possible; for even the corn in the fields grows upon a superstitious
+basis as to its own existence, and only turns the earth and moisture
+into wheat through the conceit of its own ability to do so, without
+which faith it were powerless; and the lichen only grows upon the granite
+rock by first saying to itself, &ldquo;I think I can do it;&rdquo; so
+that it would not be able to grow unless it thought it could grow, and
+would not think it could grow unless it found itself able to grow, and
+thus spends its life arguing in a most vicious circle, basing its action
+upon a hypothesis, which hypothesis is in turn based upon its action)
+- assuming that we know what is meant by the word &ldquo;person,&rdquo;
+we say that we are one and the same from the moment of our birth to
+the moment of our death, so that whatever is done by or happens to any
+one between birth and death, is said to happen to or be done by one
+individual.&nbsp; This in practice is found to be sufficient for the
+law courts and the purposes of daily life, which, being full of hurry
+and the pressure of business, can only tolerate compromise, or conventional
+rendering of intricate phenomena.&nbsp; When facts of extreme complexity
+have to be daily and hourly dealt with by people whose time is money,
+they must be simplified, and treated much as a painter treats them,
+drawing them in squarely, seizing the more important features, and neglecting
+all that does not assert itself as too essential to be passed over -
+hence the slang and cant words of every profession, and indeed all language;
+for language at best is but a kind of &ldquo;patter,&rdquo; the only
+way, it is true, in many cases, of expressing our ideas to one another,
+but still a very bad way, and not for one moment comparable to the unspoken
+speech which we may sometimes have recourse to.&nbsp; The metaphors
+and <i>fa&ccedil;ons de parler</i> to which even in the plainest speech
+we are perpetually recurring (as, for example, in this last two lines,
+&ldquo;plain,&rdquo; &ldquo;perpetually,&rdquo; and &ldquo;recurring,&rdquo;
+are all words based on metaphor, and hence more or less liable to mislead)
+often deceive us, as though there were nothing more than what we see
+and say, and as though words, instead of being, as they are, the creatures
+of our convenience, had some claim to be the actual ideas themselves
+concerning which we are conversing.</p>
+<p>This is so well expressed in a letter I have recently received from
+a friend, now in New Zealand, and certainly not intended by him for
+publication, that I shall venture to quote the passage, but should say
+that I do so without his knowledge or permission which I should not
+be able to receive before this book must be completed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Words, words, words,&rdquo; he writes, &ldquo;are the stumbling-blocks
+in the way of truth.&nbsp; Until you think of things as they are, and
+not of the words that misrepresent them, you cannot think rightly.&nbsp;
+Words produce the appearance of hard and fast lines where there are
+none.&nbsp; Words divide; thus we call this a man, that an ape, that
+a monkey, while they are all only differentiations of the same thing.&nbsp;
+To think of a thing they must be got rid of: they are the clothes that
+thoughts wear - only the clothes.&nbsp; I say this over and over again,
+for there is nothing of more importance.&nbsp; Other men&rsquo;s words
+will stop you at the beginning of an investigation.&nbsp; A man may
+play with words all his life, arranging them and rearranging them like
+dominoes.&nbsp; If I could <i>think</i> to you without words you would
+understand me better.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If such remarks as the above hold good at all, they do so with the
+words &ldquo;personal identity.&rdquo;&nbsp; The least reflection will
+show that personal identity in any sort of strictness is an impossibility.&nbsp;
+The expression is one of the many ways in which we are obliged to scamp
+our thoughts through pressure of other business which pays us better.&nbsp;
+For surely all reasonable people will feel that an infant an hour before
+birth, when in the eye of the law he has no existence, and could not
+be called a peer for another sixty minutes, though his father were a
+peer, and already dead, - surely such an embryo is more personally identical
+with the baby into which he develops within an hour&rsquo;s time than
+the born baby is so with itself (if the expression may be pardoned),
+one, twenty, or it may be eighty years after birth.&nbsp; There is more
+sameness of matter; there are fewer differences of any kind perceptible
+by a third person; there is more sense of continuity on the part of
+the person himself; and far more of all that goes to make up our sense
+of sameness of personality between an embryo an hour before birth and
+the child on being born, than there is between the child just born and
+the man of twenty.&nbsp; Yet there is no hesitation about admitting
+sameness of personality between these two last.</p>
+<p>On the other hand, if that hazy contradiction in terms, &ldquo;personal
+identity,&rdquo; be once allowed to retreat behind the threshold of
+the womb, it has eluded us once for all.&nbsp; What is true of one hour
+before birth is true of two, and so on till we get back to the impregnate
+ovum, which may fairly claim to have been personally identical with
+the man of eighty into which it ultimately developed, in spite of the
+fact that there is no particle of same matter nor sense of continuity
+between them, nor recognised community of instinct, nor indeed of anything
+which goes to the making up of that which we call identity.</p>
+<p>There is far more of all these things common to the impregnate ovum
+and the ovum immediately before impregnation, or again between the impregnate
+ovum, and both the ovum before impregnation and the spermatozoon which
+impregnated it.&nbsp; Nor, if we admit personal identity between the
+ovum and the octogenarian, is there any sufficient reason why we should
+not admit it between the impregnate ovum and the two factors of which
+it is composed, which two factors are but offshoots from two distinct
+personalities, of which they are as much part as the apple is of the
+apple-tree; so that an impregnate ovum cannot without a violation of
+first principles be debarred from claiming personal identity with both
+its parents, and hence, by an easy chain of reasoning, <i>with each
+of the impregnate ova from which its parents were developed.</i></p>
+<p>So that each ovum when impregnate should be considered not as descended
+from its ancestors, but as being a continuation of the personality of
+every ovum in the chain of its ancestry, which every ovum <i>it actually
+is</i> quite as truly as the octogenarian <i>is</i> the same identity
+with the ovum from which he has been developed.</p>
+<p>This process cannot stop short of the primordial cell, which again
+will probably turn out to be but a brief resting-place.&nbsp; We therefore
+prove each one of us to <i>be actually</i> the primordial cell which
+never died nor dies, but has differentiated itself into the life of
+the world, all living beings whatever, being one with it, and members
+one of another.</p>
+<p>To look at the matter for a moment in another light, it will be admitted
+that if the primordial cell had been killed before leaving issue, all
+its possible descendants would have been killed at one and the same
+time.&nbsp; It is hard to see how this single fact does not establish
+at the point, as it were, of a logical bayonet, an identity, between
+any creature and all others that are descended from it.</p>
+<p>In Bishop Butler&rsquo;s first dissertation on personality, we find
+expressed very much the same opinions as would follow from the above
+considerations, though they are mentioned by the Bishop only to be condemned,
+namely, &ldquo;that personality is not a permanent but a transient thing;
+that it lives and dies, begins and ends continually; that no man can
+any more remain one and the same person two moments together, than two
+successive moments can be one and the same moment;&rdquo; in which case,
+he continues, our present self would not be &ldquo;in reality the same
+with the self of yesterday, but another like self or person coming up
+in its room and mistaken for it, to which another self will succeed
+to-morrow.&rdquo;&nbsp; This view the Bishop proceeds to reduce to absurdity
+by saying, &ldquo;It must be a fallacy upon ourselves to charge our
+present selves with anything we did, or to imagine our present selves
+interested in anything which befell us yesterday; or that our present
+self will be interested in what will befall us to-morrow.&nbsp; This,
+I say, must follow, for if the self or person of to-day and that of
+to-morrow are not the same, but only like persons, the person of to-day
+is really no more interested in what will befall the person of to-morrow
+than in what will befall any other person.&nbsp; It may be thought,
+perhaps, that this is not a just representation of the opinion we are
+speaking of, because those who maintain it allow that a person is the
+same as far back as his remembrance reaches.&nbsp; And indeed they do
+use the words <i>identity</i> and <i>same person</i>.&nbsp; Nor will
+language permit these words to be laid aside, since, if they were, there
+must be I know not what ridiculous periphrasis substituted in the room
+of them.&nbsp; But they cannot consistently with themselves mean that
+the person is really the same.&nbsp; For it is self-evident that the
+personality cannot be really the same, if, as they expressly assert,
+that in which it consists is not the same.&nbsp; And as consistently
+with themselves they cannot, so I think it appears they do not mean
+that the person is really the same, but only that he is so in a fictitious
+sense; in such a sense only as they assert - for this they do assert
+- that any number of persons whatever may be the same person.&nbsp;
+The bare unfolding of this notion, and laying it thus naked and open,
+seems the best confutation of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This fencing, for it does not deserve the name of serious disputation,
+is rendered possible by the laxness with which the words &ldquo;identical&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;identity&rdquo; are commonly used.&nbsp; Bishop Butler would
+not seriously deny that personality undergoes great changes between
+infancy and old age, and hence that it must undergo some change from
+moment to moment.&nbsp; So universally is this recognised, that it is
+common to hear it said of such and such a man that he is not at all
+the person he was, or of such and such another that he is twice the
+man he used to be - expressions than which none nearer the truth can
+well be found.&nbsp; On the other hand, those whom Bishop Butler is
+intending to confute would be the first to admit that, though there
+are many changes between infancy and old age, yet they come about in
+any one individual under such circumstances as we are all agreed in
+considering as the factors of personal identity rather than as hindrances
+thereto - that is to say, there has been no death on the part of the
+individual between any two phases of his existence, and any one phase
+has had a permanent though perhaps imperceptible effect upon all succeeding
+ones.&nbsp; So that no one ever seriously argued in the manner supposed
+by Bishop Butler, unless with modifications and saving clauses, to which
+it does not suit his purpose to call attention.</p>
+<p>Identical strictly means &ldquo;one and the same;&rdquo; and if it
+were tied down to its strictest usage, it would indeed follow very logically,
+as we have said already, that no such thing as personal identity is
+possible, but that the case actually is as Bishop Butler has supposed
+his opponents without qualification to maintain it.&nbsp; In common
+use, however, the word &ldquo;identical&rdquo; is taken to mean anything
+so like another that no vital or essential differences can be perceived
+between them; as in the case of two specimens of the same kind of plant,
+when we say they are identical in spite of considerable individual differences.&nbsp;
+So with two impressions of a print from the same plate; so with the
+plate itself, which is somewhat modified with every impression taken
+from it.&nbsp; In like manner &ldquo;identity&rdquo; is not held to
+its strict meaning - absolute sameness - but is predicated rightly of
+a past and present which are now very widely asunder, provided they
+have been continuously connected by links so small as not to give too
+sudden a sense of change at any one point; as, for instance, in the
+case of the Thames at Oxford and Windsor or again at Greenwich, we say
+the same river flows by all three places, by which we mean that much
+of the water at Greenwich has come down from Oxford and Windsor in a
+continuous stream.&nbsp; How sudden a change at any one point, or how
+great a difference between the two extremes is sufficient to bar identity,
+is one of the most uncertain things imaginable, and seems to be decided
+on different grounds in different cases, sometimes very intelligibly,
+and again at others arbitrarily and capriciously.</p>
+<p>Personal identity is barred at one end, in the common opinion, by
+birth, and at the other by death.&nbsp; Before birth, a child cannot
+complain either by himself or another, in such way as to set the law
+in motion; after death he is in like manner powerless to make himself
+felt by society, except in so far as he can do so by acts done before
+the breath has left his body.&nbsp; At any point between birth and death
+he is liable, either by himself or another, to affect his fellow-creatures;
+hence, no two other epochs can be found of equal convenience for social
+purposes, and therefore they have been seized by society as settling
+the whole question of when personal identity begins and ends - society
+being rightly concerned with its own practical convenience, rather than
+with the abstract truth concerning its individual members.&nbsp; No
+one who is capable of reflection will deny that the limitation of personality
+is certainly arbitrary to a degree as regards birth, nor yet that it
+is very possibly arbitrary as regards death; and as for intermediate
+points, no doubt it would be more strictly accurate to say, &ldquo;you
+are the now phase of the person I met last night,&rdquo; or &ldquo;you
+are the being which has been evolved from the being I met last night,&rdquo;
+than &ldquo;you are the person I met last night.&rdquo;&nbsp; But life
+is too short for the pen-phrases which would crowd upon us from every
+quarter, if we did not set our face against all that is under the surface
+of things, unless, that is to say, the going beneath the surface is,
+for some special chance of profit, excusable or capable of extenuation.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI - PERSONAL IDENTITY - (Continued)</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>How arbitrary current notions concerning identity really are, may
+perhaps be perceived by reflecting upon some of the many different phases
+of reproduction.</p>
+<p>Direct reproduction in which a creation reproduces another, the <i>facsimile</i>,
+or nearly so, of itself may perhaps occur among the lowest forms of
+animal life; but it is certainly not the rule among beings of a higher
+order.</p>
+<p>A hen lays an egg, which egg becomes a chicken, which chicken, in
+the course of time, becomes a hen.</p>
+<p>A moth lays an egg, which egg becomes a caterpillar, which caterpillar,
+after going through several stages, becomes a chrysalis, which chrysalis
+becomes a moth.</p>
+<p>A medusa begets a ciliated larva, the larva begets a polyp, the polyp
+begets a strobila, and the strobila begets a medusa again; the cycle
+of reproduction being completed in the fourth generation.</p>
+<p>A frog lays an egg, which egg becomes a tadpole; the tadpole, after
+more or fewer intermediate stages, becomes a frog.</p>
+<p>The mammals lay eggs, which they hatch inside their own bodies, instead
+of outside them; but the difference is one of degree and not of kind.&nbsp;
+In all these cases how difficult is it to say where identity begins
+or ends, or again where death begins or ends, or where reproduction
+begins or ends.</p>
+<p>How small and unimportant is the difference between the changes which
+a caterpillar undergoes before becoming a moth, and those of a strobila
+before becoming a medusa.&nbsp; Yet in the one case we say the caterpillar
+does not die, but is changed (though, if the various changes in its
+existence be produced metagenetically, as is the case with many insects,
+it would appear to make a clean sweep of every organ of its existence,
+and start <i>de novo</i>, growing a head where its feet were, and so
+on - at least twice between its lives as caterpillar and butterfly);
+in this case, however, we say the caterpillar does not die, but is changed;
+being, nevertheless, one personality with the moth, into which it is
+developed.&nbsp; But in the case of the strobila we say that it is not
+changed, but dies, and is no part of the personality of the medusa.</p>
+<p>We say the egg becomes the caterpillar, not by the death of the egg
+and birth of the caterpillar, but by the ordinary process of nutrition
+and waste - waste and repair - waste and repair continually.&nbsp; In
+like manner we say the caterpillar becomes the chrysalis, and the chrysalis
+the moth, not through the death of either one or the other, but by the
+development of the same creature, and the ordinary processes of waste
+and repair.&nbsp; But the medusa after three or four cycles becomes
+the medusa again, not, we say, by these same processes of nutrition
+and waste, but by a series of generations, each one involving an actual
+birth and an actual death.&nbsp; Why this difference?&nbsp; Surely only
+because the changes in the offspring of the medusa are marked by the
+leaving a little more husk behind them, and that husk less shrivelled,
+than is left on the occasion of each change between the caterpillar
+and the butterfly.&nbsp; A little more residuum, which residuum, it
+may be, can move about; and though shrivelling from hour to hour, may
+yet leave a little more offspring before it is reduced to powder; or
+again, perhaps, because in the one case, though the actors are changed,
+they are changed behind the scenes, and come on in parts and dresses,
+more nearly resembling those of the original actors, than in the other.</p>
+<p>When the caterpillar emerges from the egg, almost all that was inside
+the egg has become caterpillar; the shell is nearly empty, and cannot
+move; therefore we do not count it, and call the caterpillar a continuation
+of the egg&rsquo;s existence, and personally identical with the egg.&nbsp;
+So with the chrysalis and the moth; but after the moth has laid her
+eggs she can still move her wings about, and she looks nearly as large
+as she did before she laid them; besides, she may yet lay a few more,
+therefore we do not consider the moth&rsquo;s life as continued in the
+life of her eggs, but rather in their husk, which we still call the
+moth, and which we say dies in a day or two, and there is an end of
+it.&nbsp; Moreover, if we hold the moth&rsquo;s life to be continued
+in that of her eggs, we shall be forced to admit her to be personally
+identical with each single egg, and, hence, each egg to be identical
+with every other egg, as far as the past, and community of memories,
+are concerned; and it is not easy at first to break the spell which
+words have cast around us, and to feel that one person may become many
+persons, and that many different persons may be practically one and
+the same person, as far as their past experience is concerned; and again,
+that two or more persons may unite and become one person, with the memories
+and experiences of both, though this has been actually the case with
+every one of us.</p>
+<p>Our present way of looking at these matters is perfectly right and
+reasonable, so long as we bear in mind that it is a <i>fa&ccedil;on
+de parler</i>, a sort of hieroglyphic which shall stand for the course
+of nature, but nothing more.&nbsp; Repair (as is now universally admitted
+by physiologists) is only a phase of reproduction, or rather reproduction
+and repair are only phases of the same power; and again, death and the
+ordinary daily waste of tissue, are phases of the same thing.&nbsp;
+As for identity it is determined in any true sense of the word, not
+by death alone, but by a combination of death and failure of issue,
+whether of mind or body.</p>
+<p>To repeat.&nbsp; Wherever there is a separate centre of thought and
+action, we see that it is connected with its successive stages of being,
+by a series of infinitely small changes from moment to moment, with,
+perhaps, at times more startling and rapid changes, but, nevertheless,
+with no such sudden, complete, and unrepaired break up of the preceding
+condition, as we shall agree in calling death.&nbsp; The branching out
+from it at different times of new centres of thought and action, has
+commonly as little appreciable effect upon the parent-stock as the fall
+of an apple full of ripe seeds has upon an apple-tree; and though the
+life of the parent, from the date of the branching off of such personalities,
+is more truly continued in these than in the residuum of its own life,
+we should find ourselves involved in a good deal of trouble if we were
+commonly to take this view of the matter.&nbsp; The residuum has generally
+the upper hand.&nbsp; He has more money, and can eat up his new life
+more easily than his new life, him.&nbsp; A moral residuum will therefore
+prefer to see the remainder of his life in his own person, than in that
+of his descendants, and will act accordingly.&nbsp; Hence we, in common
+with most other living beings, ignore the offspring as forming part
+of the personality of the parent, except in so far as that we make the
+father liable for its support and for its extravagances (than which
+no greater proof need be wished that the law is at heart a philosopher,
+and perceives the completeness of the personal identity between father
+and son) for twenty-one years from birth.&nbsp; In other respects we
+are accustomed, probably rather from considerations of practical convenience
+than as the result of pure reason, to ignore the identity between parent
+and offspring as completely as we ignore personality before birth.&nbsp;
+With these exceptions, however, the common opinion concerning personal
+identity is reasonable enough, and is found to consist neither in consciousness
+of such identity, nor yet in the power of recollecting its various phases
+(for it is plain that identity survives the distinction or suspension
+of both these), but in the fact that the various stages appear to the
+majority of people to have been in some way or other linked together.</p>
+<p>For a very little reflection will show that identity, as commonly
+predicated of living agents, does not consist in identity of matter,
+of which there is no same particle in the infant, we will say, and the
+octogenarian into whom he has developed.&nbsp; Nor, again, does it depend
+upon sameness of form or fashion; for personality is felt to survive
+frequent and radical modification of structure, as in the case of caterpillars
+and other insects.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin, quoting from Professor Owen, tells
+us (Plants and Animals under Domestication, vol. ii. p. 362, ed. 1875),
+that in the case of what is called metagenetic development, &ldquo;the
+new parts are not moulded upon the inner surfaces of the old ones.&nbsp;
+The plastic force has changed its mode of operation.&nbsp; <i>The outer
+case, and all that gave form and character to the precedent individual,
+perish, and are cast off; they are not changed</i> into the corresponding
+parts of the same individual.&nbsp; These are due to a new and distinct
+developmental process.&rdquo;&nbsp; Assuredly, there is more birth and
+death in the world than is dreamt of by the greater part of us; but
+it is so masked, and on the whole, so little to our purpose, that we
+fail to see it.&nbsp; Yet radical and sweeping as the changes of organism
+above described must be, we do not feel them to be more a bar to personal
+identity than the considerable changes which take place in the structure
+of our own bodies between youth and old age.</p>
+<p>Perhaps the most striking illustration of this is to be found in
+the case of some Echinoderms, concerning which Mr. Darwin tells us,
+that &ldquo;the animal in the second stage of development is formed
+almost like a bud within the animal of the first stage, the latter being
+then cast off like an old vestment, yet sometimes maintaining for a
+short period an independent vitality&rdquo; (&ldquo;Plants and Animals
+under Domestication,&rdquo; vol. ii. p. 362, ed. 1875).</p>
+<p>Nor yet does personality depend upon any consciousness or sense of
+such personality on the part of the creature itself - it is not likely
+that the moth remembers having been a caterpillar, more than we ourselves
+remember having been children of a day old.&nbsp; It depends simply
+upon the fact that the various phases of existence have been linked
+together, by links which we agree in considering sufficient to cause
+identity, and that they have flowed the one out of the other in what
+we see as a continuous, though it may be at times, a troubled stream.&nbsp;
+This is the very essence of personality, but it involves the probable
+unity of all animal and vegetable life, as being, in reality, nothing
+but one single creature, of which the component members are but, as
+it were, blood corpuscles or individual cells; life being a sort of
+leaven, which, if once introduced into the world, will leaven it altogether;
+or of fire, which will consume all it can burn; or of air or water,
+which will turn most things into themselves.&nbsp; Indeed, no difficulty
+would probably be felt about admitting the continued existence of personal
+identity between parents and their offspring through all time (there
+being no <i>sudden</i> break at any time between the existence of any
+maternal parent and that of its offspring), were it not that after a
+certain time the changes in outward appearance between descendants and
+ancestors become very great, the two seeming to stand so far apart,
+that it seems absurd in any way to say that they are one and the same
+being; much in the same way as after a time - though exactly when no
+one can say - the Thames becomes the sea.&nbsp; Moreover, the separation
+of the identity is practically of far greater importance to it than
+its continuance.&nbsp; We want to be ourselves; we do not want any one
+else to claim part and parcel of our identity.&nbsp; This community
+of identities is not found to answer in everyday life.&nbsp; When then
+our love of independence is backed up by the fact that continuity of
+life between parents and offspring is a matter which depends on things
+which are a good deal hidden, and that thus birth gives us an opportunity
+of pretending that there has been a sudden leap into a separate life;
+when also we have regard to the utter ignorance of embryology, which
+prevailed till quite recently, it is not surprising that our ordinary
+language should be found to have regard to what is important and obvious,
+rather than to what is not quite obvious, and is quite unimportant.</p>
+<p>Personality is the creature of time and space, changing, as time
+changes, imperceptibly; we are therefore driven to deal with it as with
+all continuous and blending things; as with time, for example, itself,
+which we divide into days, and seasons, and times, and years, into divisions
+that are often arbitrary, but coincide, on the whole, as nearly as we
+can make them do so, with the more marked changes which we can observe.&nbsp;
+We lay hold, in fact, of anything we can catch; the most important feature
+in any existence as regards ourselves being that which we can best lay
+hold of rather than that which is most essential to the existence itself.&nbsp;
+We can lay hold of the continued personality of the egg and the moth
+into which the egg develops, but it is less easy to catch sight of the
+continued personality between the moth and the eggs which she lays;
+yet the one continuation of personality is just as true and free from
+quibble as the other.&nbsp; A moth becomes each egg that she lays, and
+that she does so, she will in good time show by doing, now that she
+has got a fresh start, as near as may be what she did when first she
+was an egg, and then a moth, before; and this I take it, so far as I
+can gather from looking at life and things generally, she would not
+be able to do if she had not travelled the same road often enough already,
+to be able to know it in her sleep and blindfold, that is to say, to
+remember it without any conscious act of memory.</p>
+<p>So also a grain of wheat is linked with an ear, containing, we will
+say, a dozen grains, by a series of changes so subtle that we cannot
+say at what moment the original grain became the blade, nor when each
+ear of the head became possessed of an individual centre of action.&nbsp;
+To say that each grain of the head is personally identical with the
+original grain would perhaps be an abuse of terms; but it can be no
+abuse to say that each grain is a continuation of the personality of
+the original grain, and if so, of every grain in the chain of its own
+ancestry; and that, as being such a continuation, it must be stored
+with the memories and experiences of its past existences, to be recollected
+under the circumstances most favourable to recollection, <i>i.e</i>.,
+when under similar conditions to those when the impression was last
+made and last remembered.&nbsp; Truly, then, in each case the new egg
+and the new grain <i>is</i> the egg, and the grain from which its parent
+sprang, as completely as the full-grown ox is the calf from which it
+has grown.</p>
+<p>Again, in the case of some weeping trees, whose boughs spring up
+into fresh trees when they have reached the ground, who shall say at
+what time they cease to be members of the parent tree?&nbsp; In the
+case of cuttings from plants it is easy to elude the difficulty by making
+a parade of the sharp and sudden act of separation from the parent stock,
+but this is only a piece of mental sleight of hand; the cutting remains
+as much part of its parent plant as though it had never been severed
+from it; it goes on profiting by the experience which it had before
+it was cut off, as much as though it had never been cut off at all.&nbsp;
+This will be more readily seen in the case of worms which have been
+cut in half.&nbsp; Let a worm be cut in half, and the two halves will
+become fresh worms; which of them is the original worm?&nbsp; Surely
+both.&nbsp; Perhaps no simpler case than this could readily be found
+of the manner in which personality eludes us, the moment we try to investigate
+its real nature.&nbsp; There are few ideas which on first consideration
+appear so simple, and none which becomes more utterly incapable of limitation
+or definition as soon as it is examined closely.</p>
+<p>Finally, Mr. Darwin (&ldquo;Plants and Animals under Domestication,&rdquo;
+vol. ii. p. 38, ed. 1875), writes -</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Even with plants multiplied by bulbs, layers, &amp;c., which
+may <i>in one sense</i> be said to form part of the same individual,&rdquo;
+&amp;c., &amp;c.; and again, p. 58, &ldquo;The same rule holds good
+with plants when propagated by bulbs, offsets, &amp;c., which <i>in
+one sense</i> still form parts of the same individual,&rdquo; &amp;c.&nbsp;
+In each of these passages it is plain that the difficulty of separating
+the personality of the offspring from that of the parent plant is present
+to his mind.&nbsp; Yet, p. 351 of the same volume as above, he tells
+us that asexual generation &ldquo;is effected in many ways - by the
+formation of buds of various kinds, and by fissiparous generation, that
+is, by spontaneous or artificial division.&rdquo;&nbsp; The multiplication
+of plants by bulbs and layers clearly comes under this head, nor will
+any essential difference be felt between one kind of asexual generation
+and another; if, then, the offspring formed by bulbs and layers is in
+one sense part of the original plant, so also, it would appear, is all
+offspring developed by asexual generation in its manifold phrases.</p>
+<p>If we now turn to p. 357, we find the conclusion arrived at, as it
+would appear, on the most satisfactory evidence, that &ldquo;sexual
+and asexual reproduction are not seen to differ essentially; and . .
+. . that asexual reproduction, the power of regrowth, and development
+are all parts of one and the same great law.&rdquo;&nbsp; Does it not
+then follow, quite reasonably and necessarily, that all offspring, however
+generated, is <i>in one sense</i> part of the individuality of its parent
+or parents.&nbsp; The question, therefore, turns upon &ldquo;in what
+sense&rdquo; this may be said to be the case?&nbsp; To which I would
+venture to reply, &ldquo;In the same sense as the parent plant (which
+is but the representative of the outside matter which it has assimilated
+during growth, and of its own powers of development) is the same individual
+that it was when it was itself an offset, or a cow the same individual
+that it was when it was a calf - but no otherwise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Not much difficulty will be felt about supposing the offset of a
+plant, to be imbued with the memory of the past history of the plant
+of which it is an offset.&nbsp; It is part of the plant itself; and
+will know whatever the plant knows.&nbsp; Why, then, should there be
+more difficulty in supposing the offspring of the highest mammals, to
+remember in a profound but unselfconscious way, the anterior history
+of the creatures of which they too have been part and parcel?</p>
+<p>Personal identity, then, is much like species itself.&nbsp; It is
+now, thanks to Mr. Darwin, generally held that species blend or have
+blended into one another; so that any possibility of arrangement and
+apparent subdivision into definite groups, is due to the suppression
+by death both of individuals and whole genera, which, had they been
+now existing, would have linked all living beings by a series of gradations
+so subtle that little classification could have been attempted.&nbsp;
+How it is that the one great personality of life as a whole, should
+have split itself up into so many centres of thought and action, each
+one of which is wholly, or at any rate nearly, unconscious of its connection
+with the other members, instead of having grown up into a huge polyp,
+or as it were coral reef or compound animal over the whole world, which
+should be conscious but of its own one single existence; how it is that
+the daily waste of this creature should be carried on by the conscious
+death of its individual members, instead of by the unconscious waste
+of tissue which goes on in the bodies of each individual (if indeed
+the tissue which we waste daily in our own bodies is so unconscious
+of its birth and death as we suppose); how, again, that the daily repair
+of this huge creature life should have become decentralised, and be
+carried on by conscious reproduction on the part of its component items,
+instead of by the unconscious nutrition of the whole from a single centre,
+as the nutrition of our own bodies would appear (though perhaps falsely)
+to be carried on; these are matters upon which I dare not speculate
+here, but on which some reflections may follow in subsequent chapters.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII - OUR SUBORDINATE PERSONALITIES</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>We have seen that we can apprehend neither the beginning nor the
+end of our personality, which comes up out of infinity as an island
+out of the sea, so gently, that none can say when it is first visible
+on our mental horizon, and fades away in the case of those who leave
+offspring, so imperceptibly that none can say when it is out of sight.&nbsp;
+But, like the island, whether we can see it or no, it is always there.&nbsp;
+Not only are we infinite as regards time, but we are so also as regards
+extension, being so linked on to the external world that we cannot say
+where we either begin or end.&nbsp; If those who so frequently declare
+that man is a finite creature would point out his boundaries, it might
+lead to a better understanding.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, we are in the habit of considering that our personality,
+or soul, no matter where it begins or ends, and no matter what it comprises,
+is nevertheless a single thing, uncompounded of other souls.&nbsp; Yet
+there is nothing more certain than that this is not at all the case,
+but that every individual person is a compound creature, being made
+up of an infinite number of distinct centres of sensation and will,
+each one of which is personal, and has a soul and individual existence,
+a reproductive system, intelligence, and memory of its own, with probably
+its hopes and fears, its times of scarcity and repletion, and a strong
+conviction that it is itself the centre of the universe.</p>
+<p>True, no one is aware of more than one individuality in his own person
+at one time.&nbsp; We are, indeed, often greatly influenced by other
+people, so much so, that we act on many occasions in accordance with
+their will rather than our own, making our actions answer to their sensations,
+and register the conclusions of their cerebral action and not our own;
+for the time being, we become so completely part of them, that we are
+ready to do things most distasteful and dangerous to us, if they think
+it for their advantage that we should do so.&nbsp; Thus we sometimes
+see people become mere processes of their wives or nearest relations.&nbsp;
+Yet there is a something which blinds us, so that we cannot see how
+completely we are possessed by the souls which influence us upon these
+occasions.&nbsp; We still think we are ourselves, and ourselves only,
+and are as certain as we can be of any fact, that we are single sentient
+beings, uncompounded of other sentient beings, and that our action is
+determined by the sole operation of a single will.</p>
+<p>But in reality, over and above this possession of our souls by others
+of our own species, the will of the lower animals often enters into
+our bodies and possesses them, making us do as they will, and not as
+we will; as, for example, when people try to drive pigs, or are run
+away with by a restive horse, or are attacked by a savage animal which
+masters them.&nbsp; It is absurd to say that a person is a single &ldquo;ego&rdquo;
+when he is in the clutches of a lion.&nbsp; Even when we are alone,
+and uninfluenced by other people except in so far as we remember their
+wishes, we yet generally conform to the usages which the current feeling
+of our peers has taught us to respect; their will having so mastered
+our original nature, that, do what we may, we can never again separate
+ourselves and dwell in the isolation of our own single personality.&nbsp;
+And even though we succeeded in this, and made a clean sweep of every
+mental influence which had ever been brought to bear upon us, and though
+at the same time we were alone in some desert where there was neither
+beast nor bird to attract our attention or in any way influence our
+action, yet we could not escape the parasites which abound within us;
+whose action, as every medical man well knows, is often such as to drive
+men to the commission of grave crimes, or to throw them into convulsions,
+make lunatics of them, kill them - when but for the existence and course
+of conduct pursued by these parasites they would have done no wrong
+to any man.</p>
+<p>These parasites - are they part of us or no?&nbsp; Some are plainly
+not so in any strict sense of the word, yet their action may, in cases
+which it is unnecessary to detail, affect us so powerfully that we are
+irresistibly impelled to act in such or such a manner; and yet we are
+as wholly unconscious of any impulse outside of our own &ldquo;ego&rdquo;
+as though they were part of ourselves; others again are essential to
+our very existence, as the corpuscles of the blood, which the best authorities
+concur in supposing to be composed of an infinite number of living souls,
+on whose welfare the healthy condition of our blood, and hence of our
+whole bodies, depends.&nbsp; We breathe that they may breathe, not that
+we may do so; we only care about oxygen in so far as the infinitely
+small beings which course up and down in our veins care about it: the
+whole arrangement and mechanism of our lungs may be our doing, but is
+for their convenience, and they only serve us because it suits their
+purpose to do so, as long as we serve them.&nbsp; Who shall draw the
+line between the parasites which are part of us, and the parasites which
+are not part of us?&nbsp; Or again, between the influence of those parasites
+which are within us, but are yet not <i>us</i>, and the external influence
+of other sentient beings and our fellow-men?&nbsp; There is no line
+possible.&nbsp; Everything melts away into everything else; there are
+no hard edges; it is only from a little distance that we see the effect
+as of individual features and existences.&nbsp; When we go close up,
+there is nothing but a blur and confused mass of apparently meaningless
+touches, as in a picture by Turner.</p>
+<p>The following passage from Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s provisional theory
+of Pangenesis, will sufficiently show that the above is no strange and
+paradoxical view put forward wantonly, but that it follows as a matter
+of course from the conclusions arrived at by those who are acknowledged
+leaders in the scientific world.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin writes thus:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;<i>The functional independence of the elements or units of
+the body</i>. - Physiologists agree that the whole organism consists
+of a multitude of elemental parts, which are to a great extent independent
+of one another.&nbsp; Each organ, says Claude Bernard, has its proper
+life, its autonomy; it can develop and reproduce itself independently
+of the adjoining tissues.&nbsp; A great German authority, Virchow, asserts
+still more emphatically that each system consists of &lsquo;an enormous
+mass of minute centres of action. . . .&nbsp; Every element has its
+own special action, and even though it derive its stimulus to activity
+from other parts, yet alone effects the actual performance of duties.
+. . .&nbsp; Every single epithelial and muscular fibre-cell leads a
+sort of parasitical existence in relation to the rest of the body. .
+. .&nbsp; Every single bone corpuscle really possesses conditions of
+nutrition peculiar to itself.&rsquo;&nbsp; Each element, as Sir J. Paget
+remarks, lives its appointed time, and then dies, and is replaced after
+being cast off and absorbed.&nbsp; I presume that no physiologist doubts
+that, for instance, each bone corpuscle of the finger differs from the
+corresponding corpuscle of the corresponding joint of the toe,&rdquo;
+&amp;c., &amp;c.&nbsp; (&ldquo;Plants and Animals under Domestication,&rdquo;
+vol ii. pp. 364, 365, ed. 1875).</p>
+<p>In a work on heredity by M. Ribot, I find him saying, &ldquo;Some
+recent authors attribute a memory&rdquo; (and if so, surely every attribute
+of complete individuality) &ldquo;to every organic element of the body;&rdquo;
+among them Dr. Maudsley, who is quoted by M. Ribot, as saying, &ldquo;The
+permanent effects of a particular virus, such as that of the variola,
+in the constitution, shows that the organic element remembers for the
+remainder of its life certain modifications it has received.&nbsp; The
+manner in which a cicatrix in a child&rsquo;s finger grows with the
+growth of the body, proves, as has been shown by Paget, that the organic
+element of the part does not forget the impression it has received.&nbsp;
+What has been said about the different nervous centres of the body demonstrates
+the existence of a memory in the nerve cells diffused through the heart
+and intestines; in those of the spinal cord, in the cells of the motor
+ganglia, and in the cells of the cortical substance of the cerebal hemispheres.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Now, if words have any meaning at all, it must follow from the passages
+quoted above, that each cell in the human body is a person with an intelligent
+soul, of a low class, perhaps, but still differing from our own more
+complex soul in degree, and not in kind; and, like ourselves, being
+born, living, and dying.&nbsp; So that each single creature, whether
+man or beast, proves to be as a ray of white light, which, though single,
+is compounded of the red, blue, and yellow rays.&nbsp; It would appear,
+then, as though &ldquo;we,&rdquo; &ldquo;our souls,&rdquo; or &ldquo;selves,&rdquo;
+or &ldquo;personalities,&rdquo; or by whatever name we may prefer to
+be called, are but the <i>consensus</i> and full flowing stream of countless
+sensations and impulses on the part of our tributary souls or &ldquo;selves,&rdquo;
+who probably know no more that we exist, and that they exist as part
+of us, than a microscopic water-flea knows the results of spectrum analysis,
+or than an agricultural labourer knows the working of the British constitution:
+and of whom we know no more, until some misconduct on our part, or some
+confusion of ideas on theirs, has driven them into insurrection, than
+we do of the habits and feelings of some class widely separated from
+our own.</p>
+<p>These component souls are of many and very different natures, living
+in territories which are to them vast continents, and rivers, and seas,
+but which are yet only the bodies of our other component souls; coral
+reefs and sponge-beds within us; the animal itself being a kind of mean
+proportional between its house and its soul, and none being able to
+say where house ends and animal begins, more than they can say where
+animal ends and soul begins.&nbsp; For our bones within us are but inside
+walls and buttresses, that is to say, houses constructed of lime and
+stone, as it were, by coral insects; and our houses without us are but
+outside bones, a kind of exterior skeleton or shell, so that we perish
+of cold if permanently and suddenly deprived of the coverings which
+warm us and cherish us, as the wing of a hen cherishes her chickens.&nbsp;
+If we consider the shells of many living creatures, we shall find it
+hard to say whether they are rather houses, or part of the animal itself,
+being, as they are, inseparable from the animal, without the destruction
+of its personality.</p>
+<p>Is it possible, then, to avoid imagining that if we have within us
+so many tributary souls, so utterly different from the soul which they
+unite to form, that they neither can perceive us, nor we them, though
+it is in us that they live and move and have their being, and though
+we are what we are, solely as the result of their co-operation - is
+it possible to avoid imagining that we may be ourselves atoms, undesignedly
+combining to form some vaster being, though we are utterly incapable
+of perceiving that any such being exists, or of realising the scheme
+or scope of our own combination?&nbsp; And this, too, not a spiritual
+being, which, without matter, or what we think matter of some sort,
+is as complete nonsense to us as though men bade us love and lean upon
+an intelligent vacuum, but a being with what is virtually flesh and
+blood and bones; with organs, senses, dimensions, in some way analogous
+to our own, into some other part of which being, at the time of our
+great change we must infallibly re-enter, starting clean anew, with
+bygones bygones, and no more ache for ever from either age or antecedents.&nbsp;
+Truly, sufficient for the life is the evil thereof.&nbsp; Any speculations
+of ours concerning the nature of such a being, must be as futile and
+little valuable as those of a blood corpuscle might be expected to be
+concerning the nature of man; but if I were myself a blood corpuscle,
+I should be amused at making the discovery that I was not only enjoying
+life in my own sphere, but was <i>bon&acirc; fide</i> part of an animal
+which would not die with myself, and in which I might thus think of
+myself as continuing to live to all eternity, or to what, as far as
+my power of thought would carry me, must seem practically eternal.&nbsp;
+But, after all, the amusement would be of a rather dreary nature.</p>
+<p>On the other hand, if I were the being of whom such an introspective
+blood corpuscle was a component item, I should conceive he served me
+better by attending to my blood and making himself a successful corpuscle,
+than by speculating about my nature.&nbsp; He would serve me best by
+serving himself best, without being over curious.&nbsp; I should expect
+that my blood might suffer if his brain were to become too active.&nbsp;
+If, therefore, I could discover the vein in which he was, I should let
+him out to begin life anew in some other and, <i>qu&acirc;</i> me, more
+profitable capacity.</p>
+<p>With the units of our bodies it is as with the stars of heaven: there
+is neither speech nor language, but their voices are heard among them.&nbsp;
+Our will is the <i>fiat</i> of their collective wisdom, as sanctioned
+in their parliament, the brain; it is they who make us do whatever we
+do - it is they who should be rewarded if they have done well, or hanged
+if they have committed murder.&nbsp; When the balance of power is well
+preserved among them, when they respect each other&rsquo;s rights and
+work harmoniously together, then we thrive and are well; if we are ill,
+it is because they are quarrelling with themselves, or are gone on strike
+for this or that addition to their environment, and our doctor must
+pacify or chastise them as best he may.&nbsp; They are we and we are
+they; and when we die it is but a redistribution of the balance of power
+among them or a change of dynasty, the result, it may be, of heroic
+struggle, with more epics and love romances than we could read from
+now to the Millennium, if they were so written down that we could comprehend
+them.</p>
+<p>It is plain, then, that the more we examine the question of personality
+the more it baffles us, the only safeguard against utter confusion and
+idleness of thought being to fall back upon the superficial and common
+sense view, and refuse to tolerate discussions which seem to hold out
+little prospect of commercial value, and which would compel us, if logically
+followed, to be at the inconvenience of altering our opinions upon matters
+which we have come to consider as settled.</p>
+<p>And we observe that this is what is practically done by some of our
+ablest philosophers, who seem unwilling, if one may say so without presumption,
+to accept the conclusions to which their own experiments and observations
+would seem to point.</p>
+<p>Dr. Carpenter, for example, quotes the well-known experiments upon
+headless frogs.&nbsp; If we cut off a frog&rsquo;s head and pinch any
+part of its skin, the animal at once begins to move away with the same
+regularity as though the brain had not been removed.&nbsp; Flourens
+took guinea-pigs, deprived them of the cerebral lobes, and then irritated
+their skin; the animals immediately walked, leaped, and trotted about,
+but when the irritation was discontinued they ceased to move.&nbsp;
+Headless birds, under excitation, can still perform with their wings
+the rhythmic movements of flying.&nbsp; But here are some facts more
+curious still, and more difficult of explanation.&nbsp; If we take a
+frog or a strong and healthy triton, and subject it to various experiments;
+if we touch, pinch, or burn it with acetic acid, and if then, after
+decapitating the animal, we subject it to the same experiments, it will
+be seen that the reactions are exactly the same; it will strive to be
+free of the pain, and to shake off the acetic acid that is burning it;
+it will bring its foot up to the part of its body that is irritated,
+and this movement of the member will follow the irritation wherever
+it may be produced.</p>
+<p>The above is mainly taken from M. Ribot&rsquo;s work on heredity
+rather than Dr. Carpenter&rsquo;s, because M. Ribot tells us that the
+head of the frog was actually cut off, a fact which does not appear
+so plainly in Dr. Carpenter&rsquo;s allusion to the same experiments.&nbsp;
+But Dr. Carpenter tells us that <i>after the brain of a frog has been
+removed</i> - which would seem to be much the same thing as though its
+head were cut off - &ldquo;if acetic acid be applied over the upper
+and under part of the thigh, the foot of the same side will wipe it
+away; <i>but if that foot be cut off, after some ineffectual efforts
+and a short period of inaction</i>,&rdquo; during which it is hard not
+to surmise that the headless body is considering what it had better
+do under the circumstances, &ldquo;<i>the same movement will be made
+by the foot of the opposite side</i>,&rdquo; which, to ordinary people,
+would convey the impression that the headless body was capable of feeling
+the impressions it had received, and of reasoning upon them by a psychological
+act; and this of course involves the possession of a soul of some sort.</p>
+<p>Here is a frog whose right thigh you burn with acetic acid.&nbsp;
+Very naturally it tries to get at the place with its right foot to remove
+the acid.&nbsp; You then cut off the frog&rsquo;s head, and put more
+acetic acid on the some place: the headless frog, or rather the body
+of the late frog, does just what the frog did before its head was cut
+off - it tries to get at the place with its right foot.&nbsp; You now
+cut off its right foot: the headless body deliberates, and after a while
+tries to do with its left foot what it can no longer do with its right.&nbsp;
+Plain matter-of-fact people will draw their own inference.&nbsp; They
+will not be seduced from the superficial view of the matter.&nbsp; They
+will say that the headless body can still, to some extent, feel, think,
+and act, and if so, that it must have a living soul.</p>
+<p>Dr. Carpenter writes as follows:- &ldquo;Now the performance of these,
+as well as of many other movements, that show a most remarkable adaptation
+to a purpose, might be supposed to indicate that sensations are called
+up by the <i>impressions</i>, and that the animal can not only <i>feel</i>,
+but can voluntarily direct its movements so as to get rid of the irritation
+which annoys it.&nbsp; But such an inference would be inconsistent with
+other facts.&nbsp; In the first place, the motions performed under such
+circumstances are never spontaneous, but are always excited by a stimulus
+of some kind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Here we pause to ask ourselves whether any action of any creature
+under any circumstances is ever excited without &ldquo;stimulus of some
+kind,&rdquo; and unless we can answer this question in the affirmative,
+it is not easy to see how Dr. Carpenter&rsquo;s objection is valid.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thus,&rdquo; he continues, &ldquo;a decapitated frog&rdquo;
+(here then we have it that the frog&rsquo;s head was actually cut off)
+&ldquo;after the first violent convulsive moments occasioned by the
+operation have passed away, remains at rest until it is touched; and
+then the leg, or its whole body may be thrown into sudden action, which
+suddenly subsides again.&rdquo;&nbsp; (How does this quiescence when
+it no longer feels anything show that the &ldquo;leg or whole body&rdquo;
+had not perceived something which made it feel when it was not quiescent?)
+- &ldquo;Again we find that such movements may be performed not only
+when the brain has been removed, the spinal cord remaining entire, but
+also when the spinal cord has been itself cut across, so as to be divided
+into two or more portions, each of them completely isolated from each
+other, and from other parts of the nervous centres.&nbsp; Thus, if the
+head of a frog be cut off, and its spinal cord be divided in the middle
+of the back, so that its fore legs remain connected with the upper part,
+and its hind legs with the lower, each pair of members may be excited
+to movements by stimulants applied to itself; but the two pairs will
+not exhibit any consentaneous motions, as they will do when the spinal
+cord is undivided.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This may be put perhaps more plainly thus.&nbsp; If you take a frog
+and cut it into three pieces - say, the head for one piece, the fore
+legs and shoulder for another, and the hind legs for a third - and then
+irritate any one of these pieces, you will find it move much as it would
+have moved under like irritation if the animal had remained undivided,
+but you will no longer find any concert between the movements of the
+three pieces; that is to say, if you irritate the head, the other two
+pieces will remain quiet, and if you irritate the hind legs, you will
+excite no action in the fore legs or head.</p>
+<p>Dr. Carpenter continues: &ldquo;Or if the spinal cord be cut across
+without the removal of the brain, the lower limbs may be <i>excited</i>
+to movement by an appropriate stimulant, though the animal has clearly
+no power over them, whilst the upper part remains under its control
+as completely as before.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Why are the head and shoulders &ldquo;the animal&rdquo; more than
+the hind legs under these circumstances?&nbsp; Neither half can exist
+long without the other; the two parts, therefore, being equally important
+to each other, we have surely as good a right to claim the title of
+&ldquo;the animal&rdquo; for the hind legs, and to maintain that they
+have no power over the head and shoulders, as any one else has to claim
+the animalship for these last.&nbsp; What we say is, that the animal
+has ceased to exist as a frog on being cut in half, and that the two
+halves are no longer, either of them, the frog, but are simply pieces
+of still living organism, each of which has a soul of its own, being
+capable of sensation, and of intelligent psychological action as the
+consequence of sensations, though the one part has probably a much higher
+and more intelligent soul than the other, and neither part has a soul
+for a moment comparable in power and durability to that of the original
+frog.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now it is scarcely conceivable,&rdquo; continues Dr Carpenter,
+&ldquo;that in this last case sensations should be felt and volition
+exercised through the instrumentality of that portion of the spinal
+cord which remains connected with the nerves of the posterior extremities,
+but which is cut off from the brain.&nbsp; For if it were so, there
+must be two distinct centres of sensation and will in the same animal,
+the attributes of the brain not being affected; and by dividing the
+spinal cord into two or more segments we might thus create in the body
+of one animal two or more such independent centres in addition to that
+which holds its proper place in the head.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In the face of the facts before us, it does not seen far-fetched
+to suppose that there <i>are</i> two, or indeed an infinite number of
+centres of sensation and will in an animal, the attributes of whose
+brain are not affected but that these centres, while the brain is intact,
+habitually act in connection with and in subordination to that central
+authority; as in the ordinary state of the fish trade, fish is caught,
+we will say, at Yarmouth, sent up to London, and then sent down to Yarmouth
+again to be eaten, instead of being eaten at Yarmouth when caught.&nbsp;
+But from the phenomena exhibited by three pieces of an animal, it is
+impossible to argue that the causes of the phenomena were present in
+the quondam animal itself; the memory of an infinite series of generations
+having so habituated the local centres of sensation and will, to act
+in concert with the central government, that as long as they can get
+at that government, they are absolutely incapable of acting independently.&nbsp;
+When thrown on their own resources, they are so demoralised by ages
+of dependence on the brain, that they die after a few efforts at self-assertion,
+from sheer unfamiliarity with the position, and inability to recognise
+themselves when disjointed rudely from their habitual associations.</p>
+<p>In conclusion, Dr. Carpenter says, &ldquo;To say that two or more
+distinct centres of sensation and will are present in such a case, would
+really be the same as saying that we have the power of constituting
+two or more distinct egos in one body, <i>which is manifestly absurd</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+One sees the absurdity of maintaining that we can make one frog into
+two frogs by cutting a frog into two pieces, but there is no absurdity
+in believing that the two pieces have minor centres of sensation and
+intelligence within themselves, which, when the animal is entire, act
+in much concert with the brain, and with each other, that it is not
+easy to detect their originally autonomous character, but which, when
+deprived of their power of acting in concert, are thrown back upon earlier
+habit, now too long forgotten to be capable of permanent resumption.</p>
+<p>Illustrations are apt to mislead, nevertheless they may perhaps be
+sometimes tolerated.&nbsp; Suppose, for example, that London to the
+extent, say, of a circle with a six-mile radius from Charing Cross,
+were utterly annihilated in the space of five minutes during the Session
+of Parliament.&nbsp; Suppose, also, that two entirely impassable barriers,
+say of five miles in width, half a mile high, and red hot, were thrown
+across England; one from Gloucester to Harwich, and another from Liverpool
+to Hull, and at the same time the sea were to become a mass of molten
+lava, so no water communication should be possible; the political, mercantile,
+social, and intellectual life of the country would be convulsed in a
+manner which it is hardly possible to realise.&nbsp; Hundreds of thousands
+would die through the dislocation of existing arrangements.&nbsp; Nevertheless,
+each of the three parts into which England was divided would show signs
+of provincial life for which it would find certain imperfect organisms
+ready to hand.&nbsp; Bristol, Birmingham, Liverpool, and Manchester,
+accustomed though they are to act in subordination to London, would
+probably take up the reins of government in their several sections;
+they would make their town councils into local governments, appoint
+judges from the ablest of their magistrates, organise relief committees,
+and endeavour as well as they could to remove any acetic acid that might
+be now poured on Wiltshire, Warwickshire, or Northumberland, but no
+concert between the three divisions of the country would be any longer
+possible.&nbsp; Should we be justified, under these circumstances, in
+calling any of the three parts of England, England?&nbsp; Or, again,
+when we observed the provincial action to be as nearly like that of
+the original undivided nation as circumstances would allow, should we
+be justified in saying that the action, such as it was, was not political?&nbsp;
+And, lastly, should we for a moment think that an admission that the
+provincial action was of a <i>bon&acirc; fide</i> political character
+would involve the supposition that England, undivided, had more than
+one &ldquo;ego&rdquo; as England, no matter how many subordinate &ldquo;egos&rdquo;
+might go to the making of it, each one of which proved, on emergency,
+to be capable of a feeble autonomy?</p>
+<p>M. Ribot would seem to take a juster view of the phenomenon when
+he says (p. 222 of the English translation) -</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We can hardly say that here the movements are co-ordinated
+like those of a machine; the acts of the animal are adapted to a special
+end; we find in them the characters of intelligence and will, a knowledge
+and choice of means, since they are as variable as the cause which provokes
+them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If these, then, and similar acts, were such that both the
+impressions which produced them and the acts themselves were perceived
+by the animal, would they not be called psychological?&nbsp; Is there
+not in them all that constitutes an intelligent act - adaptation of
+means to ends; not a general and vague adaptation, but a determinate
+adaptation to a determinate end?&nbsp; In the reflex action we find
+all that constitutes in some sort the very groundwork of an intelligent
+act - that is to say, the same series of stages, in the same order,
+with the same relations between them.&nbsp; We have thus, in the reflex
+act, all that constitutes the psychological act except consciousness.&nbsp;
+The reflex act, which is physiological, differs in nothing from the
+psychological act, save only in this - that it is without consciousness.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The only remark which suggests itself upon this, is that we have
+no right to say that the part of the animal which moves does not also
+perceive its own act of motion, as much as it has perceived the impression
+which has caused it to move.&nbsp; It is plain &ldquo;the animal&rdquo;
+cannot do so, for the animal cannot be said to be any longer in existence.&nbsp;
+Half a frog is not a frog; nevertheless, if the hind legs are capable,
+as M. Ribot appears to admit, of &ldquo;perceiving the impression&rdquo;
+which produces their action, and if in that action there is (and there
+would certainly appear to be so) &ldquo;all that constitutes an intelligent
+act, . . . a determinate adaptation to a determinate end,&rdquo; one
+fails to see on what ground they should be supposed to be incapable
+of perceiving their own action, in which case the action of the hind
+legs becomes distinctly psychological.</p>
+<p>Secondly, M. Ribot appears to forget that it is the tendency of all
+psychological action to become unconscious on being frequently repeated,
+and that no line can be drawn between psychological acts and those reflex
+acts which he calls physiological.&nbsp; All we can say is, that there
+are acts which we do without knowing that we do them; but the analogy
+of many habits which we have been able to watch in their passage from
+laborious consciousness to perfect unconsciousness, would suggest that
+all action is really psychological, only that the soul&rsquo;s action
+becomes invisible to ourselves after it has been repeated sufficiently
+often - that there is, in fact, a law as simple as in the case of optics
+or gravitation, whereby conscious perception of any action shall vary
+inversely as the square, say, of its being repeated.</p>
+<p>It is easy to understand the advantage to the individual of this
+power of doing things rightly without thinking about them; for were
+there no such power, the attention would be incapable of following the
+multitude of matters which would be continually arresting it; those
+animals which had developed a power of working automatically, and without
+a recurrence to first principles when they had once mastered any particular
+process, would, in the common course of events, stand a better chance
+of continuing their species, and thus of transmitting their new power
+to their descendants.</p>
+<p>M. Ribot declines to pursue the subject further, and has only cursorily
+alluded to it.&nbsp; He writes, however, that, on the &ldquo;obscure
+problem&rdquo; of the difference between reflex and psychological actions,
+some say, &ldquo;when there can be no consciousness, because the brain
+is wanting, there is, in spite of appearances, only mechanism,&rdquo;
+whilst others maintain, that &ldquo;when there is selection, reflection,
+psychical action, there must also be consciousness in spite of appearances.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+A little later (p. 223), he says, &ldquo;It is quite possible that if
+a headless animal could live a sufficient length of time&rdquo; (that
+is to say, if <i>the hind legs of an animal</i> could live a sufficient
+length of time without the brain), &ldquo;there would be found in it&rdquo;
+<i>(them</i>) &ldquo;a consciousness like that of the lower species,
+which would consist merely in the faculty of apprehending the external
+world.&rdquo;&nbsp; (Why merely?&nbsp; It is more than apprehending
+the outside world to be able to try to do a thing with one&rsquo;s left
+foot, when one finds that one cannot do it with one&rsquo;s right.)&nbsp;
+&ldquo;It would not be correct to say that the amphioxus, the only one
+among fishes and vertebrata which has a spinal cord without a brain,
+has no consciousness because it has no brain; and if it be admitted
+that the little ganglia of the invertebrata can form a consciousness,
+the same may hold good for the spinal cord.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We conclude, therefore, that it is within the common scope and meaning
+of the words &ldquo;personal identity,&rdquo; not only that one creature
+can become many as the moth becomes manifold in her eggs, but that each
+individual may be manifold in the sense of being compounded of a vast
+number of subordinate individualities which have their separate lives
+within him, with their hopes, and fears, and intrigues, being born and
+dying within us, many generations, of them during our single lifetime.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An organic being,&rdquo; writes Mr. Darwin, &ldquo;is a microcosm,
+a little universe, formed of a host of self-propagating organisms, inconceivably
+minute, and numerous as the stars in heaven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As these myriads of smaller organisms are parts and processes of
+us, so are we but parts and processes of life at large.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII - APPLICATION OF THE FOREGOING CHAPTERS - THE ASSIMILATION
+OF OUTSIDE MATTER</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Let us now return to the position which we left at the end of the
+fourth chapter.&nbsp; We had then concluded that the self-development
+of each new life in succeeding generations - the various stages through
+which it passes (as it would appear, at first sight, without rhyme or
+reason) - the manner in which it prepares structures of the most surpassing
+intricacy and delicacy, for which it has no use at the time when it
+prepares them - and the many elaborate instincts which it exhibits immediately
+on, and indeed before, birth - all point in the direction of habit and
+memory, as the only causes which could produce them.</p>
+<p>Why should the embryo of any animal go through so many stages - embryological
+allusions to forefathers of a widely different type?&nbsp; And why,
+again, should the germs of the same kind of creature always go through
+the same stages?&nbsp; If the germ of any animal now living is, in its
+simplest state, but part of the personal identity of one of the original
+germs of all life whatsoever, and hence, if any now living organism
+must be considered without quibble as being itself millions of years
+old, and as imbued with an intense though unconscious memory of all
+that it has done sufficiently often to have made a permanent impression;
+if this be so, we can answer the above questions perfectly well.&nbsp;
+The creature goes through so many intermediate stages between its earliest
+state as life at all, and its latest development, for the simplest of
+all reasons, namely, because this is the road by which it has always
+hitherto travelled to its present differentiation; this is the road
+it knows, and into every turn and up or down of which, it has been guided
+by the force of circumstances and the balance of considerations.&nbsp;
+These, acting in such a manner for such and such a time, caused it to
+travel in such and such fashion, which fashion having been once sufficiently
+established, becomes a matter of trick or routine to which the creature
+is still a slave, and in which it confirms itself by repetition in each
+succeeding generation.</p>
+<p>Thus I suppose, as almost every one else, so far as I can gather,
+supposes, that we are descended from ancestors of widely different characters
+to our own.&nbsp; If we could see some of our forefathers a million
+years back, we should find them unlike anything we could call man; if
+we were to go back fifty million years, we should find them, it may
+be, fishes pure and simple, breathing through gills, and unable to exist
+for many minutes in air.</p>
+<p>It is admitted on all hands that there is more or less analogy between
+the embryological development of the individual, and the various phases
+or conditions of life through which his forefathers have passed.&nbsp;
+I suppose, then, that the fish of fifty million years back and the man
+of to-day are one single living being, in the same sense, or very nearly
+so, as the octogenarian is one single living being with the infant from
+which he has grown; and that the fish has lived himself into manhood,
+not as we live out our little life, living, and living, and living till
+we die, but living by pulsations, so to speak; living so far, and after
+a certain time going into a new body, and throwing off the old; making
+his body much as we make anything that we want, and have often made
+already, that is to say, as nearly as may be in the same way as he made
+it last time; also that he is as unable as we ourselves are, to make
+what he wants without going through the usual processes with which he
+is familiar, even though there may be other better ways of doing the
+same thing, which might not be far to seek, if the creature thought
+them better, and had not got so accustomed to such and such a method,
+that he would only be baffled and put out by any attempt to teach him
+otherwise.</p>
+<p>And this oneness of personality between ourselves and our supposed
+fishlike ancestors of many millions of years ago, must hold also between
+each individual one of us and the single pair of fishes from which we
+are each (on the present momentary hypothesis) descended; and it must
+also hold between such pair of fishes and all their descendants besides
+man, it may be some of them birds, and others fishes; all these descendants,
+whether human or otherwise, being but the way in which the creature
+(which was a pair of fishes when we first took it in hand though it
+was a hundred thousand other things as well, and had been all manner
+of other things before any part of it became fishlike) continues to
+exist - its manner, in fact, of growing.&nbsp; As the manner in which
+the human body grows is by the continued birth and death, in our single
+lifetime, of many generations of cells which we know nothing about,
+but say that we have had only one hand or foot all our lives, when we
+have really had many, one after another; so this huge compound creature,
+LIFE, probably thinks itself but one single animal whose component cells,
+as it may imagine, grow, and it may be waste and repair, but do not
+die.</p>
+<p>It may be that the cells of which we are built up, and which we have
+already seen must be considered as separate persons, each one of them
+with a life and memory of its own - it may be that these cells reckon
+time in a manner inconceivable by us, so that no word can convey any
+idea of it whatever.&nbsp; What may to them appear a long and painful
+process may to us be so instantaneous as to escape us altogether, we
+wanting some microscope to show us the details of time.&nbsp; If, in
+like manner, we were to allow our imagination to conceive the existence
+of a being as much in need of a microscope for our time and affairs
+as we for those of our own component cells, the years would be to such
+a being but as the winkings or the twinklings of an eye.&nbsp; Would
+he think, then, that all the ants and flies of one wink were different
+from those of the next? or would he not rather believe that they were
+always the same flies, and, again, always the same men and women, if
+he could see them at all, and if the whole human race did not appear
+to him as a sort of spreading and lichen-like growth over the earth,
+not differentiated at all into individuals?&nbsp; With the help of a
+microscope and the intelligent exercise of his reason, he would in time
+conceive the truth.&nbsp; He would put Covent Garden Market on the field
+of his microscope, and would perhaps write a great deal of nonsense
+about the unerring &ldquo;instinct&rdquo; which taught each costermonger
+to recognise his own basket or his own donkey-cart; and this, <i>mutatis
+mutandis</i>, is what we are getting to do as regards our own bodies.&nbsp;
+What I wish is, to make the same sort of step in an upward direction
+which has already been taken in a downward one, and to show reason for
+thinking that we are only component atoms of a single compound creature,
+LIFE, which has probably a distinct conception of its own personality
+though none whatever of ours, more than we of our own units.&nbsp; I
+wish also to show reason for thinking that this creature, LIFE, has
+only come to be what it is, by the same sort of process as that by which
+any human art or manufacture is developed, <i>i.e</i>., through constantly
+doing the same thing over and over again, beginning from something which
+is barely recognisable as faith, or as the desire to know, or do, or
+live at all, and as to the origin of which we are in utter darkness,
+- and growing till it is first conscious of effort, then conscious of
+power, then powerful with but little consciousness, and finally, so
+powerful and so charged with memory as to be absolutely without all
+self-consciousness whatever, except as regards its latest phases in
+each of its many differentiations, or when placed in such new circumstances
+as compel it to choose between death and a reconsideration of its position.</p>
+<p>No conjecture can be hazarded as to how the smallest particle of
+matter became so imbued with faith that it must be considered as the
+beginning of LIFE, or as to what such faith is, except that it is the
+very essence of all things, and that it has no foundation.</p>
+<p>In this way, then, I conceive we can fairly transfer the experience
+of the race to the individual, without any other meaning to our words
+than what they would naturally suggest; that is to say, that there is
+in every impregnate ovum a <i>bon&acirc; fide</i> memory, which carries
+it back not only to the time when it was last an impregnate ovum, but
+to that earlier date when it was the very beginning of life at all,
+which same creature it still is, whether as man or ovum, and hence imbued,
+so far as time and circumstance allow, with all its memories.&nbsp;
+Surely this is no strained hypothesis; for the mere fact that the germ,
+from the earliest moment that we are able to detect it, appears to be
+so perfectly familiar with its business, acts with so little hesitation
+and so little introspection or reference to principles, this alone should
+incline us to suspect that it must be armed with that which, so far
+as we observe in daily life, can alone ensure such a result - to wit,
+long practice, and the memory of many similar performances.</p>
+<p>The difficulty is, that we are conscious of no such memory in our
+own persons, and beyond the one great proof of memory given by the actual
+repetition of the performance - and of some of the latest deviations
+from the ordinary performance (and this proof ought in itself, one would
+have thought, to outweigh any save the directest evidence to the contrary)
+we can detect no symptom of any such mental operation as recollection
+on the part of the embryo.&nbsp; On the other hand, we have seen that
+we know most intensely those things that we are least conscious of knowing;
+we will most intensely what we are least conscious of willing; we feel
+continually without knowing that we feel, and our attention is hourly
+arrested without our attention being arrested by the arresting of our
+attention.&nbsp; Memory is no less capable of unconscious exercise,
+and on becoming intense through frequent repetition, vanishes no less
+completely as a conscious action of the mind than knowledge and volition.&nbsp;
+We must all be aware of instances in which it is plain we must have
+remembered, without being in the smallest degree conscious of remembering.&nbsp;
+Is it then absurd to suppose that our past existences have been repeated
+on such a vast number of occasions that the germ, linked on to all preceding
+germs, and, by once having become part of their identity, imbued with
+all their memories, remembers too intensely to be conscious of remembering,
+and works on with the same kind of unconsciousness with which we play,
+or walk, or read, until something unfamiliar happens to us? and is it
+not singularly in accordance with this view that consciousness should
+begin with that part of the creature&rsquo;s performance with which
+it is least familiar, as having repeated it least often - that is to
+say, in our own case, with the commencement of our human life - at birth,
+or thereabouts?</p>
+<p>It is certainly noteworthy that the embryo is never at a loss, unless
+something happens to it which has not usually happened to its forefathers,
+and which in the nature of things it cannot remember.</p>
+<p>When events are happening to it which have ordinarily happened to
+its forefathers, and which it would therefore remember, if it was possessed
+of the kind of memory which we are here attributing to it, <i>it acts
+precisely as it would act if it were possessed of such memory.</i></p>
+<p>When, on the other hand, events are happening to it which, if it
+has the kind of memory we are attributing to it, would baffle that memory,
+or which have rarely or never been included in the category of its recollections,
+<i>it acts precisely as a creature acts when its recollection is disturbed,
+or when it is required to do something which it has never done before.</i></p>
+<p>We cannot remember having been in the embryonic stage, but we do
+not on that account deny that we ever were in such a stage at all.&nbsp;
+On a little reflection it will appear no more reasonable to maintain
+that, when we were in the embryonic stage, we did not remember our past
+existences, than to say that we never were embryos at all.&nbsp; We
+cannot remember what we did or did not recollect in that state; we cannot
+now remember having grown the eyes which we undoubtedly did grow, much
+less can we remember whether or not we then remembered having grown
+them before; but it is probable that our memory was then, in respect
+of our previous existences as embryos, as much more intense than it
+is now in respect of our childhood, as our power of acquiring a new
+language was greater when we were one or two years old, than when we
+were twenty.&nbsp; And why should this power of acquiring languages
+be greater at two years than at twenty, but that for many generations
+we have learnt to speak at about this age, and hence look to learn to
+do so again on reaching it, just as we looked to making eyes, when the
+time came at which we were accustomed to make them.</p>
+<p>If we once had the memory of having been infants (which we had from
+day to day during infancy), and have lost it, we may well have had other
+and more intense memories which we have lost no less completely.&nbsp;
+Indeed, there is nothing more extraordinary in the supposition that
+the impregnate ovum has an intense sense of its continuity with, and
+therefore of its identity with, the two impregnate ova from which it
+has sprung, than in the fact that we have no sense of our continuity
+with ourselves as infants.&nbsp; If then, there is no <i>&agrave; priori</i>
+objection to this view, and if the impregnate ovum acts in such a manner
+as to carry the strongest conviction that it must have already on many
+occasions done what it is doing now, and that it has a vivid though
+unconscious recollection of what all, and more especially its nearer,
+ancestral ova did under similar circumstances, there would seem to be
+little doubt what conclusion we ought to come to.</p>
+<p>A hen&rsquo;s egg, for example, as soon as the hen begins to sit,
+sets to work immediately to do as nearly as may be what the two eggs
+from which its father and mother were hatched did when hens began to
+sit upon them.&nbsp; The inference would seem almost irresistible, -
+that the second egg remembers the course pursued by the eggs from which
+it has sprung, and of whose present identity it is unquestionably a
+part-phase; it also seems irresistibly forced upon us to believe that
+the intensity of this memory is the secret of its easy action.</p>
+<p>It has, I believe, been often remarked, that a hen is only an egg&rsquo;s
+way of making another egg.&nbsp; Every creature must be allowed to &ldquo;run&rdquo;
+its own development in its own way; the egg&rsquo;s way may seem a very
+roundabout manner of doing things; but it <i>is</i> its way, and it
+is one of which man, upon the whole, has no great reason to complain.&nbsp;
+Why the fowl should be considered more alive than the egg, and why it
+should be said that the hen lays the egg, and not that the egg lays
+the hen, these are questions which lie beyond the power of philosophic
+explanation, but are perhaps most answerable by considering the conceit
+of man, and his habit, persisted in during many ages, of ignoring all
+that does not remind him of himself, or hurt him, or profit him; also
+by considering the use of language, which, if it is to serve at all,
+can only do so by ignoring a vast number of facts which gradually drop
+out of mind from being out of sight.&nbsp; But, perhaps, after all,
+the real reason is, that the egg does not cackle when it has laid the
+hen, and that it works towards the hen with gradual and noiseless steps,
+which we can watch if we be so minded; whereas, we can less easily watch
+the steps which lead from the hen to the egg, but hear a noise, and
+see an egg where there was no egg.&nbsp; Therefore, we say, the development
+of the fowl from the egg bears no sort of resemblance to that of the
+egg from the fowl, whereas, in truth, a hen, or any other living creature,
+is only the primordial cell&rsquo;s way of going back upon itself.</p>
+<p>But to return.&nbsp; We see an egg, A, which evidently knows its
+own meaning perfectly well, and we know that a twelvemonth ago there
+were two other such eggs, B and C, which have now disappeared, but from
+which we know A to have been so continuously developed as to be part
+of the present form of their identity.&nbsp; A&rsquo;s meaning is seen
+to be precisely the same as B and C&rsquo;s meaning; A&rsquo;s personal
+appearance is, to all intents and purposes, B and C&rsquo;s personal
+appearance; it would seem, then, unreasonable to deny that A is only
+B and C come back, with such modification as they may have incurred
+since their disappearance; and that, in spite of any such modification,
+they remember in A perfectly well what they did as B and C.</p>
+<p>We have considered the question of personal identity so as to see
+whether, without abuse of terms, we can claim it as existing between
+any two generations of living agents (and if between two, then between
+any number up to infinity), and we found that we were not only at liberty
+to claim this, but that we are compelled irresistibly to do so, unless,
+that is to say, we would think very differently concerning personal
+identity than we do at present.&nbsp; We found it impossible to hold
+the ordinary common sense opinions concerning personal identity, without
+admitting that we are personally identical with all our forefathers,
+who have successfully assimilated outside matter to themselves, and
+by assimilation imbued it with all their own memories; we being nothing
+else than this outside matter so assimilated and imbued with such memories.&nbsp;
+This, at least, will, I believe, balance the account correctly.</p>
+<p>A few remarks upon the assimilation of outside matter by living organisms
+may perhaps be hazarded here.</p>
+<p>As long as any living organism can maintain itself in a position
+to which it has been accustomed, more or less nearly, both in its own
+life and in those of its forefathers, nothing can harm it.&nbsp; As
+long as the organism is familiar with the position, and remembers its
+antecedents, nothing can assimilate it.&nbsp; It must be first dislodged
+from the position with which it is familiar, as being able to remember
+it, before mischief can happen to it.&nbsp; Nothing can assimilate living
+organism.</p>
+<p>On the other hand, the moment living organism loses sight of its
+own position and antecedents, it is liable to immediate assimilation,
+and to be thus familiarised with the position and antecedents of some
+other creature.&nbsp; If any living organism be kept for but a very
+short time in a position wholly different from what it has been accustomed
+to in its own life, and in the lives of its forefathers, it commonly
+loses its memories completely, once and for ever; but it must immediately
+acquire new ones, for nothing can know nothing; everything must remember
+either its own antecedents, or some one else&rsquo;s.&nbsp; And as nothing
+can know nothing, so nothing can believe in nothing.</p>
+<p>A grain of corn, for example, has never been accustomed to find itself
+in a hen&rsquo;s stomach - neither it nor its forefathers.&nbsp; For
+a grain so placed leaves no offspring, and hence cannot transmit its
+experience.&nbsp; The first minute or so after being eaten, it may think
+it has just been sown, and begin to prepare for sprouting, but in a
+few seconds, it discovers the environment to be unfamiliar; it therefore
+gets frightened, loses its head, is carried into the gizzard, and comminuted
+among the gizzard stones.&nbsp; The hen succeeded in putting it into
+a position with which it was unfamiliar; from this it was an easy stage
+to assimilating it entirely.&nbsp; Once assimilated, the grain ceases
+to remember any more as a grain, but becomes initiated into all that
+happens to, and has happened to, fowls for countless ages.&nbsp; Then
+it will attack all other grains whenever it sees them; there is no such
+persecutor of grain, as another grain when it has once fairly identified
+itself with a hen.</p>
+<p>We may remark in passing, that if anything be once familiarised with
+anything, it is content.&nbsp; The only things we really care for in
+life are familiar things; let us have the means of doing what we have
+been accustomed to do, of dressing as we have been accustomed to dress,
+of eating as we have been accustomed to eat, and let us have no less
+liberty than we are accustomed to have, and last, but not least, let
+us not be disturbed in thinking as we have been accustomed to think,
+and the vast majority of mankind will be very fairly contented - all
+plants and animals will certainly be so.&nbsp; This would seem to suggest
+a possible doctrine of a future state; concerning which we may reflect
+that though, after we die, we cease to be familiar with ourselves, we
+shall nevertheless become immediately familiar with many other histories
+compared with which our present life must then seem intolerably uninteresting.</p>
+<p>This is the reason why a very heavy and sudden shock to the nervous
+system does not pain, but kills outright at once; while one with which
+the system can, at any rate, try to familiarise itself is exceedingly
+painful.&nbsp; We cannot bear unfamiliarity.&nbsp; The part that is
+treated in a manner with which it is not familiar cries immediately
+to the brain - its central government - for help, and makes itself generally
+as troublesome as it can, till it is in some way comforted.&nbsp; Indeed,
+the law against cruelty to animals is but an example of the hatred we
+feel on seeing even dumb creatures put into positions with which they
+are not familiar.&nbsp; We hate this so much for ourselves, that we
+will not tolerate it for other creatures if we can possibly avoid it.&nbsp;
+So again, it is said, that when Andromeda and Perseus had travelled
+but a little way from the rock where Andromeda had so long been chained,
+she began upbraiding him with the loss of her dragon, who, on the whole,
+she said, had been very good to her.&nbsp; The only things we really
+hate are unfamiliar things, and though nature would not be nature if
+she did not cross our love of the familiar with a love also of the unfamiliar,
+yet there can be no doubt which of the two principles is master.</p>
+<p>Let us return, however, to the grain of corn.&nbsp; If the grain
+had had presence of mind to avoid being carried into the gizzard stones,
+as many seeds do which are carried for hundreds of miles in birds&rsquo;
+stomachs, and if it had persuaded itself that the novelty of the position
+was not greater than it could very well manage to put up with - if,
+in fact, it had not known when it was beaten - it might have stuck in
+the hen&rsquo;s stomach and begun to grow; in this case it would have
+assimilated a good part of the hen before many days were over; for hens
+are not familiar with grains that grow in their stomachs, and unless
+the one in question was as strongminded for a hen, as the grain that
+could avoid being assimilated would be for a grain, the hen would soon
+cease to take an interest in her antecedents.&nbsp; It is to be doubted,
+however, whether a grain has ever been grown which has had strength
+of mind enough to avoid being set off its balance on finding itself
+inside a hen&rsquo;s gizzard.&nbsp; For living organism is the creature
+of habit and routine, and the inside of a gizzard is not in the grain&rsquo;s
+programme.</p>
+<p>Suppose, then, that the grain, instead of being carried into the
+gizzard, had stuck in the hen&rsquo;s throat and choked her.&nbsp; It
+would now find itself in a position very like what it had often been
+in before.&nbsp; That is to say, it would be in a damp, dark, quiet
+place, not too far from light, and with decaying matter around it.&nbsp;
+It would therefore know perfectly well what to do, and would begin to
+grow until disturbed, and again put into a position with which it might,
+very possibly, be unfamiliar.</p>
+<p>The great question between vast masses of living organism is simply
+this: &ldquo;Am I to put you into a position with which your forefathers
+have been unfamiliar, or are you to put me into one about which my own
+have been in like manner ignorant?&rdquo;&nbsp; Man is only the dominant
+animal on the earth, because he can, as a general rule, settle this
+question in his own favour.</p>
+<p>The only manner in which an organism, which has once forgotten its
+antecedents, can ever recover its memory, is by being assimilated by
+a creature of its own kind; one, moreover, which knows its business,
+or is not in such a false position as to be compelled to be aware of
+being so.&nbsp; It was, doubtless, owing to the recognition of this
+fact, that some Eastern nations, as we are told by Herodotus, were in
+the habit of eating their deceased parents - for matter which has once
+been assimilated by any identity or personality, becomes for all practical
+purposes part of the assimilating personality.</p>
+<p>The bearing of the above will become obvious when we return, as we
+will now do, to the question of personal identity.&nbsp; The only difficulty
+would seem to lie in our unfamiliarity with the real meanings which
+we attach to words in daily use.&nbsp; Hence, while recognising continuity
+without sudden break as the underlying principle of identity, we forget
+that this involves personal identity between all the beings who are
+in one chain of descent, the numbers of such beings, whether in succession,
+or contemporaneous, going for nothing at all.&nbsp; Thus we take two
+eggs, one male and one female, and hatch them; after some months the
+pair of fowls so hatched, having succeeded in putting a vast quantity
+of grain and worms into false positions, become full-grown, breed, and
+produce a dozen new eggs.</p>
+<p>Two live fowls and a dozen eggs are the present phase of the personality
+of the two original eggs.&nbsp; They are also part of the present phase
+of the personality of all the worms and grain which the fowls have assimilated
+from their leaving the eggshell; but the personalities of these last
+do not count; they have lost their grain and worm memories, and are
+instinct with the memorises of the whole ancestry of the creature which
+has assimilated them.</p>
+<p>We cannot, perhaps, strictly say that the two fowls and the dozen
+new eggs actually <i>are</i> the two original eggs; these two eggs are
+no longer in existence, and we see the two birds themselves which were
+hatched from them.&nbsp; A bird cannot be called an egg without an abuse
+of terms.&nbsp; Nevertheless, it is doubtful how far we should not say
+this, for it is only with a mental reserve - and with no greater mental
+reserve - that we predicate absolute identity concerning any living
+being for two consecutive moments; and it is certainly as free from
+quibble to say to two fowls and a dozen eggs, &ldquo;you are the two
+eggs I had on my kitchen shelf twelve months ago,&rdquo; as to say to
+a man, &ldquo;you are the child whom I remember thirty years ago in
+your mother&rsquo;s arms.&rdquo;&nbsp; In either case we mean, &ldquo;you
+have been continually putting other organisms into a false position,
+and then assimilating them, ever since I last saw you, while nothing
+has yet occurred to put <i>you</i> into such a false position as to
+have made you lose the memory of your antecedents.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It would seem perfectly fair, therefore, to say to any egg of the
+twelve, or to the two fowls and the whole twelve eggs together, &ldquo;you
+were a couple of eggs twelve months ago; twelve months before that you
+were four eggs;&rdquo; and so on, <i>ad infinitum</i>, the number neither
+of the ancestors nor of the descendants counting for anything, and continuity
+being the sole thing looked to.&nbsp; From daily observation we are
+familiar with the fact that identity does both unite with other identities,
+so that a single new identity is the result, and does also split itself
+up into several identities, so that the one becomes many.&nbsp; This
+is plain from the manner in which the male and female sexual elements
+unite to form a single ovum, which we observe to be instinct with the
+memories of both the individuals from which it has been derived; and
+there is the additional consideration, that each of the elements whose
+fusion goes to make up the impregnate ovum, is held by some to be itself
+composed of a fused mass of germs, which stand very much in the same
+relation to the spermatozoon and ovum, as the living cellular units
+of which we are composed do to ourselves - that is to say, are living
+independent organisms, which probably have no conception of the existence
+of the spermatozoon nor of the ovum, more than the spermatozoon or ovum
+have of theirs.</p>
+<p>This, at least, is what I gather from Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s provisional
+theory of Pangenesis; and, again, from one of the concluding sentences
+in his &ldquo;Effects of Cross and Self Fertilisation,&rdquo; where,
+asking the question why two sexes have been developed, he replies that
+the answer seems to lie &ldquo;in the great good which is derived from
+the fusion of two somewhat differentiated individuals.&nbsp; With the
+exception,&rdquo; he continues, &ldquo;or the lowest organisms this
+is possible only by means of the sexual elements - <i>these consisting
+of cells separated from the body</i>&rdquo; (<i>i.e</i>., separated
+from the bodies of each parent) &ldquo;<i>containing the germs of every
+part</i>&rdquo; (<i>i.e</i>., consisting of the seeds or germs from
+which each individual cell of the coming organism will be developed
+- these seeds or germs having been shed by each individual cell of the
+parent forms), &ldquo;<i>and capable of being fused completely together</i>&rdquo;
+(<i>i.e</i>., so at least I gather, capable of being fused completely,
+in the same way as the cells of our own bodies are fused, and thus,
+of forming a single living personality in the case of both the male
+and female element; which elements are themselves capable of a second
+fusion so as to form the impregnate ovum).&nbsp; This single impregnate
+ovum, then, is a single identity that has taken the place of and come
+up in the room of two distinct personalities, each of whose characteristics
+it, to a certain extent, partakes, and which consist, each one of them,
+of the fused germs of a vast mass of other personalities.</p>
+<p>As regards the dispersion of one identity into many, this also is
+a matter of daily observation in the case of all female creatures that
+are with egg or young; the identity of the young with the female parent
+is in many respects so complete, as to need no enforcing, in spite of
+the entrance into the offspring of all the elements derived from the
+male parent, and of the gradual separation of the two identities, which
+becomes more and more complete, till in time it is hard to conceive
+that they can ever have been united.</p>
+<p>Numbers, therefore, go for nothing; and, as far as identity or continued
+personality goes, it is as fair to say to the two fowls, above referred
+to, &ldquo;you were four fowls twelve months ago,&rdquo; as it is to
+say to a dozen eggs, &ldquo;you were two eggs twelve months ago.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But here a difficulty meets us; for if we say, &ldquo;you were two eggs
+twelve months ago,&rdquo; it follows that we mean, &ldquo;you are now
+those two eggs;&rdquo; just as when we say to a person, &ldquo;you were
+such and such a boy twenty years ago,&rdquo; we mean, &ldquo;you are
+now that boy, or all that represents him;&rdquo; it would seem, then,
+that in like manner we should say to the two fowls, &ldquo;you <i>are</i>
+the four fowls who between them laid the two eggs from which you sprung.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+But it may be that all these four fowls are still to be seen running
+about; we should be therefore saying, &ldquo;you two fowls are really
+not yourselves only, but you are also the other four fowls into the
+bargain;&rdquo; and this might be philosophically true, and might, perhaps,
+be considered so, but for the convenience of the law courts.</p>
+<p>The difficulty would seem to arise from the fact that the eggs must
+disappear before fowls can be hatched from them, whereas, the hens so
+hatched may outlive the development of other hens, from the eggs which
+they in due course have laid.&nbsp; The original eggs being out of sight
+are out of mind, and it is without an effort that we acquiesce in the
+assertion, - that the dozen new eggs actually are the two original ones.&nbsp;
+But the original four fowls being still in sight, cannot be ignored,
+we only, therefore, see the new ones as growths from the original ones.</p>
+<p>The strict rendering of the facts should be, &ldquo;you are part
+of the present phase of the identity of such and such a past identity,&rdquo;
+<i>i.e</i>., either of the two eggs or the four fowls, as the case may
+be; this will put the eggs and the fowls, as it were, into the same
+box, and will meet both the philosophical and legal requirement of the
+case, only it is a little long.</p>
+<p>So far then, as regards actual identity of personality; which, we
+find, will allow us to say, that eggs are part of the present phase
+of a certain past identity, whether of other eggs, or of fowls, or chickens,
+and in like, manner that chickens are part of the present phase of certain
+other chickens, or eggs, or fowls; in fact, that anything is part of
+the present phase of any past identity in the line of its ancestry.&nbsp;
+But as regards the actual memory of such identity (unconscious memory,
+but still clearly memory), we observe that the egg, as long as it is
+an egg, appears to have a very distinct recollection of having been
+an egg before, and the fowl of having been a fowl before, but that neither
+egg nor fowl appear to have any recollection of any other stage of their
+past existences, than the one corresponding to that in which they are
+themselves at the moment existing.</p>
+<p>So we, at six or seven years old, have no recollection of ever having
+been infants, much less of having been embryos; but the manner in which
+we shed our teeth and make new ones, and the way in which we grow generally,
+making ourselves for the most part exceedingly like what we made ourselves,
+in the person of some one of our nearer ancestors, and not unfrequently
+repeating the very blunders which we made upon that occasion when we
+come to a corresponding age, proves most incontestably that we remember
+our past existences, though too utterly to be capable of introspection
+in the matter.&nbsp; So, when we grow wisdom teeth, at the age it may
+be of one or two and twenty, it is plain we remember our past existences
+at that age, however completely we may have forgotten the earlier stages
+of our present existence.&nbsp; It may be said that it is the jaw which
+remembers, and not we, but it seems hard to deny the jaw a right of
+citizenship in our personality; and in the case of a growing boy, every
+part of him seems to remember equally well, and if every part of him
+combined does not make <i>him</i>, there would seem but little use in
+continuing the argument further.</p>
+<p>In like manner, a caterpillar appears not to remember having been
+an egg, either in its present or any past existence.&nbsp; It has no
+concern with eggs as soon as it is hatched, but it clearly remembers
+not only having been a caterpillar before, but also having turned itself
+into a chrysalis before; for when the time comes for it to do this,
+it is at no loss, as it would certainly be if the position was unfamiliar,
+but it immediately begins doing what it did when last it was in a like
+case, repeating the process as nearly as the environment will allow,
+taking every step in the same order as last time, and doing its work
+with that ease and perfection which we observe to belong to the force
+of habit, and to be utterly incompatible with any other supposition
+than that of long long practice.</p>
+<p>Once having become a chrysalis, its memory of its caterpillarhood
+appears to leave it for good and all, not to return until it again assumes
+the shape of a caterpillar by process of descent.&nbsp; Its memory now
+overleaps all past modifications, and reverts to the time when it was
+last what it is now, and though it is probable that both caterpillar
+and chrysalis, on any given day of their existence in either of these
+forms, have some sort of dim power of recollecting what happened to
+them yesterday, or the day before; yet it is plain their main memory
+goes back to the corresponding day of their last existence in their
+present form, the chrysalis remembering what happened to it on such
+a day far more practically, though less consciously, than what happened
+to it yesterday; and naturally, for yesterday is but once, and its past
+existences have been legion.&nbsp; Hence, it prepares its wings in due
+time, doing each day what it did on the corresponding day of its last
+chrysalishood and at length becoming a moth; whereon its circumstances
+are so changed that it loses all sense of its identity as a chrysalis
+(as completely as we, for precisely the same reason, lose all sense
+of our identity with ourselves as infants), and remembers nothing but
+its past existences as a moth.</p>
+<p>We observe this to hold throughout the animal and vegetable kingdoms.&nbsp;
+In any one phase of the existence of the lower animals, we observe that
+they remember the corresponding stage, and a little on either side of
+it, of all their past existences for a very great length of time.&nbsp;
+In their present existence they remember a little behind the present
+moment (remembering more and more the higher they advance in the scale
+of life), and being able to foresee about as much as they could foresee
+in their past existences, sometimes more and sometimes less.&nbsp; As
+with memory, so with prescience.&nbsp; The higher they advance in the
+scale of life the more prescient they are.&nbsp; It must, of course,
+be remembered, and will later on be more fully dwelt upon, that no offspring
+can remember anything which happens to its parents after it and its
+parents have parted company; and this is why there is, perhaps, more
+irregularity as regards our wisdom-teeth than about anything else that
+we grow; inasmuch as it must not uncommonly have happened in a long
+series of generations, that the offspring has been born before the parents
+have grown their wisdom-teeth, and thus there will be faults in the
+memory.</p>
+<p>Is there, then, anything in memory, as we observe it in ourselves
+and others, under circumstances in which we shall agree in calling it
+memory pure and simple without ambiguity of terms - is there anything
+in memory which bars us from supposing it capable of overleaping a long
+time of abeyance, and thus of enabling each impregnate ovum, or each
+grain, to remember what it did when last in a like condition, and to
+go on remembering the corresponding period of its prior developments
+throughout the whole period of its present growth, though such memory
+has entirely failed as regards the interim between any two corresponding
+periods, and is not consciously recognised by the individual as being
+exercised at all?</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX - ON THE ABEYANCE OF MEMORY</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Let us assume, for the moment, that the action of each impregnate
+germ is due to memory, which, as it were, pulsates anew in each succeeding
+generation, so that immediately on impregnation, the germ&rsquo;s memory
+reverts to the last occasion on which it was in a like condition, and
+recognising the position, is at no loss what to do.&nbsp; It is plain
+that in all cases where there are two parents, that is to say, in the
+greater number of cases, whether in the vegetable or animal kingdoms,
+there must be two such last occasions, each of which will have an equal
+claim upon the attention of the new germ.&nbsp; Its memory would therefore
+revert to both, and though it would probably adhere more closely to
+the course which it took either as its father or its mother, and thus
+come out eventually male or female, yet it would be not a little influenced
+by the less potent memory.</p>
+<p>And not only this, but each of the germs to which the memory of the
+new germ reverts, is itself imbued with the memories of its own parent
+germs, and these again with the memories of preceding generations, and
+so on <i>ad infinitum</i>; so that, <i>ex hypothesi</i>, the germ must
+become instinct with all these memories, epitomised as after long time,
+and unperceived though they may well be, not to say obliterated in part
+or entirely so far as many features are concerned, by more recent impressions.&nbsp;
+In this case, we must conceive of the impregnate germ as of a creature
+which has to repeat a performance already repeated before on countless
+different occasions, but with no more variation on the more recent ones
+than is inevitable in the repetition of any performance by an intelligent
+being.</p>
+<p>Now if we take the most parallel case to this which we can find,
+and consider what we should ourselves do under such circumstances, that
+is to say, if we consider what course is actually taken by beings who
+are influenced by what we all call memory, when they repeat an already
+often-repeated performance, and if we find a very strong analogy between
+the course so taken by ourselves, and that which from whatever cause
+we observe to be taken by a living germ, we shall surely be much inclined
+to think that there must be a similarity in the causes of action in
+each case; and hence, to conclude, that the action of the germ is due
+to memory.</p>
+<p>It will, therefore, be necessary to consider the general tendency
+of our minds in regard to impressions made upon us, and the memory of
+such impressions.</p>
+<p>Deep impressions upon the memory are made in two ways, differing
+rather in degree than kind, but with two somewhat widely different results.&nbsp;
+They are made:-</p>
+<p>I.&nbsp; By unfamiliar objects, or combinations, which come at comparatively
+long intervals, and produce their effect, as it were, by one hard blow.&nbsp;
+The effect of these will vary with the unfamiliarity of the impressions
+themselves, and the manner in which they seem likely to lead to a further
+development of the unfamiliar, <i>i.e</i>., with the question, whether
+they seem likely to compel us to change our habits, either for better
+or worse.</p>
+<p>Thus, if an object or incident be very unfamiliar, as, we will say,
+a whale or an iceberg to one travelling to America for the first time,
+it will make a deep impression, though but little affecting our interests;
+but if we struck against the iceberg and were shipwrecked, or nearly
+so, it would produce a much deeper impression, we should think much
+more about icebergs, and remember much more about them, than if we had
+merely seen one.&nbsp; So, also, if we were able to catch the whale
+and sell its oil, we should have a deep impression made upon us.&nbsp;
+In either case we see that the amount of unfamiliarity, either present
+or prospective, is the main determinant of the depth of the impression.</p>
+<p>As with consciousness and volition, so with sudden unfamiliarity.&nbsp;
+It impresses us more and more deeply the more unfamiliar it is, until
+it reaches such a point of impressiveness as to make no further impression
+at all; on which we then and there die.&nbsp; For death only kills through
+unfamiliarity - that is to say, because the new position, whatever it
+is, is so wide a cross as compared with the old one, that we cannot
+fuse the two so as to understand the combination; hence we lose all
+recognition of, and faith in, ourselves and our surroundings.</p>
+<p>But however much we imagine we remember concerning the details of
+any remarkable impression which has been made us by a single blow, we
+do not remember as much or nearly as much as we think we do.&nbsp; The
+subordinate details soon drop out of mind.&nbsp; Those who think they
+remember even such a momentous matter as the battle of Waterloo recall
+now probably but half-a-dozen episodes, a gleam here, and a gleam there,
+so that what they call remembering the battle of Waterloo, is, in fact,
+little more than a kind of dreaming - so soon vanishes the memory of
+any unrepeated occurrence.</p>
+<p>As for smaller impressions, there is very little of what happens
+to us in each week that will be in our memories a week hence; a man
+of eighty remembers few of the unrepeated incidents of his life beyond
+those of the last fortnight, a little here, and a little there, forming
+a matter of perhaps six weeks or two months in all, if everything that
+he can call to mind were acted over again with no greater fulness than
+he can remember it.&nbsp; As for incidents that have been often repeated,
+his mind strikes a balance of its past reminiscences, remembering the
+two or three last performances, and a general method of procedure, but
+nothing more.</p>
+<p>If, then, the recollection of all that is not very novel, or very
+often repeated, so soon fades from our own minds, during what we consider
+as our single lifetime, what wonder that the details of our daily experience
+should find no place in that brief epitome of them which is all we can
+give in so small a volume as offspring?</p>
+<p>If we cannot ourselves remember the hundred-thousandth part of what
+happened to us during our own childhood, how can we expect our offspring
+to remember more than what, through frequent repetition, they can now
+remember as a residuum, or general impression.&nbsp; On the other hand,
+whatever we remember in consequence of but a single impression, we remember
+consciously.&nbsp; We can at will recall details, and are perfectly
+well aware, when we do so, that we are recollecting.&nbsp; A man who
+has never seen death looks for the first time upon the dead face of
+some near relative or friend.&nbsp; He gazes for a few short minutes,
+but the impression thus made does not soon pass out of his mind.&nbsp;
+He remembers the room, the hour of the day or night, and if by day,
+what sort of a day.&nbsp; He remembers in what part of the room, and
+how disposed the body of the deceased was lying.&nbsp; Twenty years
+afterwards he can, at will, recall all these matters to his mind, and
+picture to himself the scene as he originally witnessed it.</p>
+<p>The reason is plain; the impression was very unfamiliar, and affected
+the beholder, both as regards the loss of one who was dear to him, and
+as reminding him with more than common force that he will one day die
+himself.&nbsp; Moreover the impression was a simple one, not involving
+much subordinate detail; we have in this case, therefore, an example
+of the most lasting kind of impression that can be made by a single
+unrepeated event.&nbsp; But if we examine ourselves closely, we shall
+find that after a lapse of years we do not remember as much as we think
+we do, even in such a case as this; and that beyond the incidents above
+mentioned, and the expression upon the face of the dead person, we remember
+little of what we can so consciously and vividly recall.</p>
+<p>II.&nbsp; Deep impressions are also made by the repetition, more
+or less often, of a feeble impression which, if unrepeated, would have
+soon passed out of our minds.&nbsp; We observe, therefore, that we remember
+best what we have done least often - any unfamiliar deviation, that
+is to say, from our ordinary method of procedure - and what we have
+done most often, with which, therefore, we are most familiar; our memory
+being mainly affected by the force of novelty and the force of routine
+- the most unfamiliar, and the most familiar, incidents or objects.</p>
+<p>But we remember impressions which have been made upon us by force
+of routine, in a very different way to that in which we remember a single
+deep impression.&nbsp; As regards this second class, which comprises
+far the most numerous and important of the impressions with which our
+memory is stored, it is often only by the fact of our performance itself
+that we are able to recognise or show to others that we remember at
+all.&nbsp; We often do not remember how, or when, or where we acquired
+our knowledge.&nbsp; All we remember is, that we did learn, and that
+at one time and another we have done this or that very often.</p>
+<p>As regards this second class of impressions we may observe:-</p>
+<p>1.&nbsp; That as a general rule we remember only the individual features
+of the last few repetitions of the act - if, indeed, we remember this
+much.&nbsp; The influence of preceding ones is to be found only in the
+general average of the procedure, which is modified by them, but unconsciously
+to ourselves.&nbsp; Take, for example, some celebrated singer, or pianoforte
+player, who has sung the same air, or performed the same sonata several
+hundreds or, it may be, thousands of times: of the details of individual
+performances, he can probably call to mind none but those of the last
+few days, yet there can be no question that his present performance
+is affected by, and modified by, all his previous ones; the care he
+has bestowed on these being the secret of his present proficiency.</p>
+<p>In each performance (the performer being supposed in the same state
+of mental and bodily health), the tendency will be to repeat the immediately
+preceding performances more nearly than remoter ones.&nbsp; It is the
+common tendency of living beings to go on doing what they have been
+doing most recently.&nbsp; The last habit is the strongest.&nbsp; Hence,
+if he took great pains last time, he will play better now, and will
+take a like degree of pains, and play better still next time, and so
+go on improving while life and vigour last.&nbsp; If, on the other hand,
+he took less pains last time, he will play worse now, and be inclined
+to take little pains next time, and so gradually deteriorate.&nbsp;
+This, at least, is the common everyday experience of mankind.</p>
+<p>So with painters, actors, and professional men of every description;
+after a little while the memory of many past performances strikes a
+sort of fused balance in the mind, which results in a general method
+of procedure with but little conscious memory of even the latest performances,
+and with none whatever of by far the greater number of the remoter ones.</p>
+<p>Still, it is noteworthy, that the memory of some even of these will
+occasionally assert itself, so far as we can see, arbitrarily, the reason
+why this or that occasion should still haunt us, when others like them
+are forgotten, depending on some cause too subtle for our powers of
+observation.</p>
+<p>Even with such a simple matter as our daily dressing and undressing,
+we may remember some few details of our yesterday&rsquo;s toilet, but
+we retain nothing but a general and fused recollection of the many thousand
+earlier occasions on which we have dressed, or gone to bed.&nbsp; Men
+invariably put the same leg first into their trousers - this is the
+survival of memory in a residuum; but they cannot, till they actually
+put on a pair of trousers, remember which leg they <i>do</i> put in
+first; this is the rapid fading away of any small individual impression.</p>
+<p>The seasons may serve as another illustration; we have a general
+recollection of the kind of weather which is seasonable for any month
+in a year; what flowers are due about what time, and whether the spring
+is on the whole backward or early; but we cannot remember the weather
+on any particular day a year ago, unless some unusual incident has impressed
+it upon our memory.&nbsp; We can remember, as a general rule, what kind
+of season it was, upon the whole, a year ago, or perhaps, even two years;
+but more than this, we rarely remember, except in such cases as the
+winter of 1854-1855, or the summer of 1868; the rest is all merged.</p>
+<p>We observe, then, that as regards small and often repeated impressions,
+our tendency is to remember best, and in most detail, what we have been
+doing most recently, and what in general has occurred most recently,
+but that the earlier impressions though forgotten individually, are
+nevertheless, not wholly lost.</p>
+<p>2.&nbsp; When we have done anything very often, and have got into
+the habit of doing it, we generally take the various steps in the same
+order; in many cases this seems to be a <i>sine qu&acirc; non</i> for
+our repetition of the action at all.&nbsp; Thus, there is probably no
+living man who could repeat the words of &ldquo;God save the Queen&rdquo;
+backwards, without much hesitation and many mistakes; so the musician
+and the singer must perform their pieces in the order of the notes as
+written, or at any rate as they ordinarily perform them; they cannot
+transpose bars or read them backwards, without being put out, nor would
+the audience recognise the impressions they have been accustomed to,
+unless these impressions are made in the accustomed order.</p>
+<p>3.&nbsp; If, when we have once got well into the habit of doing anything
+in a certain way, some one shows us some other way of doing it, or some
+way which would in part modify our procedure, or if in our endeavours
+to improve, we have hit upon some new idea which seems likely to help
+us, and thus we vary our course, on the next occasion we remember this
+idea by reason of its novelty, but if we try to repeat it, we often
+find the residuum of our old memories pulling us so strongly into our
+old groove, that we have the greatest difficulty in repeating our performance
+in the new manner; there is a clashing of memories, a conflict, which
+if the idea is very new, and involves, so to speak, too sudden a cross
+- too wide a departure from our ordinary course - will sometimes render
+the performance monstrous, or baffle us altogether, the new memory failing
+to fuse harmoniously with the old.&nbsp; If the idea is not too widely
+different from our older ones, we can cross them with it, but with more
+or less difficulty, as a general rule in proportion to the amount of
+variation.&nbsp; The whole process of understanding a thing consists
+in this, and, so far as I can see at present, in this only.</p>
+<p>Sometimes we repeat the new performance for a few times, in a way
+which shows that the fusion of memories is still in force; and then
+insensibly revert to the old, in which case the memory of the new soon
+fades away, leaving a residuum too feeble to contend against that of
+our many earlier memories of the same kind.&nbsp; If, however, the new
+way is obviously to our advantage, we make an effort to retain it, and
+gradually getting into the habit of using it, come to remember it by
+force of routine, as we originally remembered it by force of novelty.&nbsp;
+Even as regards our own discoveries, we do not always succeed in remembering
+our most improved and most striking performances, so as to be able to
+repeat them at will immediately: in any such performance we may have
+gone some way beyond our ordinary powers, owing to some unconscious
+action of the mind.&nbsp; The supreme effort has exhausted us, and we
+must rest on our oars a little, before we make further progress; or
+we may even fall back a little, before we make another leap in advance.</p>
+<p>In this respect, almost every conceivable degree of variation is
+observable, according to differences of character and circumstances.&nbsp;
+Sometimes the new impression has to be made upon us many times from
+without, before the earlier strain of action is eliminated; in this
+case, there will long remain a tendency to revert to the earlier habit.&nbsp;
+Sometimes, after the impression has been once made, we repeat our old
+way two or three times, and then revert to the new, which gradually
+ousts the old; sometimes, on the other hand, a single impression, though
+involving considerable departure from our routine, makes its mark so
+deeply that we adopt the new at once, though not without difficulty,
+and repeat it in our next performance, and henceforward in all others;
+but those who vary their performance thus readily will show a tendency
+to vary subsequent performances according as they receive fresh ideas
+from others, or reason them out independently.&nbsp; They are men of
+genius.</p>
+<p>This holds good concerning all actions which we do habitually, whether
+they involve laborious acquirement or not.&nbsp; Thus, if we have varied
+our usual dinner in some way that leaves a favourable impression upon
+our minds, so that our dinner may, in the language of the horticulturist,
+be said to have &ldquo;sported,&rdquo; our tendency will be to revert
+to this particular dinner either next day, or as soon as circumstances
+will allow, but it is possible that several hundred dinners may elapse
+before we can do so successfully, or before our memory reverts to this
+particular dinner.</p>
+<p>4.&nbsp; As regards our habitual actions, however unconsciously we
+remember them, we, nevertheless, remember them with far greater intensity
+than many individual impressions or actions, it may be of much greater
+moment, that have happened to us more recently.&nbsp; Thus, many a man
+who has familiarised himself, for example, with the odes of Horace,
+so as to have had them at his fingers&rsquo; ends as the result of many
+repetitions, will be able years hence to repeat a given ode, though
+unable to remember any circumstance in connection with his having learnt
+it, and no less unable to remember when he repeated it last.&nbsp; A
+host of individual circumstances, many of them not unimportant, will
+have dropped out of his mind, along with a mass of literature read but
+once or twice, and not impressed upon the memory by several repetitions;
+but he returns to the well-known ode with so little effort, that he
+would not know that he was remembering unless his reason told him so.&nbsp;
+The ode seems more like something born with him.</p>
+<p>We observe, also, that people who have become imbecile, or whose
+memory is much impaired, yet frequently retain their power of recalling
+impression which have been long ago repeatedly made upon them.</p>
+<p>In such cases, people are sometimes seen to forget what happened
+last week, yesterday, or an hour ago, without even the smallest power
+of recovering their recollection; but the oft repeated earlier impression
+remains, though there may be no memory whatever of how it came to be
+impressed so deeply.&nbsp; The phenomena of memory, therefore, are exactly
+like those of consciousness and volition, in so far as that the consciousness
+of recollection vanishes, when the power of recollection has become
+intense.&nbsp; When we are aware that we are recollecting, and are trying,
+perhaps hard, to recollect, it is a sign that we do not recollect utterly.&nbsp;
+When we remember utterly and intensely, there is no conscious effort
+of recollection; our recollection can only be recognised by ourselves
+and others, through our performance itself, which testifies to the existence
+of a memory, that we could not otherwise follow or detect.</p>
+<p>5.&nbsp; When circumstances have led us to change our habits of life
+- as when the university has succeeded school, or professional life
+the university - we get into many fresh ways, and leave many old ones.&nbsp;
+But on revisiting the old scene, unless the lapse of time has been inordinately
+great, we experience a desire to revert to old habits.&nbsp; We say
+that old associations crowd upon us.&nbsp; Let a Trinity man, after
+thirty years absence from Cambridge, pace for five minutes in the cloister
+of Neville&rsquo;s Court, and listen to the echo of his footfall, as
+it licks up against the end of the cloister, or let an old Johnian stand
+wherever he likes in the third Court of St. John&rsquo;s, in either
+case he will find the thirty years drop out of his life, as if they
+were half-an-hour; his life will have rolled back upon itself, to the
+date when he was an undergraduate, and his instinct will be to do almost
+mechanically, whatever it would have come most natural to him to do,
+when he was last there at the same season of the year, and the same
+hour of the day; and it is plain this is due to similarity of environment,
+for if the place he revisits be much changed, there will be little or
+no association.</p>
+<p>So those who are accustomed at intervals to cross the Atlantic, get
+into certain habits on board ship, different to their usual ones.&nbsp;
+It may be that at home they never play whist; on board ship they do
+nothing else all the evening.&nbsp; At home they never touch spirits;
+on the voyage they regularly take a glass of something before they go
+to bed.&nbsp; They do not smoke at home; here they are smoking all day.&nbsp;
+Once the voyage is at an end, they return without an effort to their
+usual habits, and do not feel any wish for cards, spirits, or tobacco.&nbsp;
+They do not remember yesterday, when they did want all these things;
+at least, not with such force as to be influenced by it in their desires
+and actions; their true memory - the memory which makes them want, and
+do, reverts to the last occasion on which they were in circumstances
+like their present; they therefore want now what they wanted then, and
+nothing more; but when the time comes for them to go on shipboard again,
+no sooner do they smell the smell of the ship, than their real memory
+reverts to the times when they were last at sea, and striking a balance
+of their recollections, they smoke, play cards, and drink whisky and
+water.</p>
+<p>We observe it then as a matter of the commonest daily occurrence
+within our own experience, that memory does fade completely away, and
+recur with the recurrence of surroundings like those which made any
+particular impression in the first instance.&nbsp; We observe that there
+is hardly any limit to the completeness and the length of time during
+which our memory may remain in abeyance.&nbsp; A smell may remind an
+old man of eighty of some incident of his childhood, forgotten for nearly
+as many years as he has lived.&nbsp; In other words, we observe that
+when an impression has been repeatedly made in a certain sequence on
+any living organism - that impression not having been prejudicial to
+the creature itself - the organism will have a tendency, on reassuming
+the shape and conditions in which it was when the impression was last
+made, to remember the impression, and therefore to do again now what
+it did then; all intermediate memories dropping clean out of mind, so
+far as they have any effect upon action.</p>
+<p>6.&nbsp; Finally, we should note the suddenness and apparent caprice
+with which memory will assert itself at odd times; we have been saying
+or doing this or that, when suddenly a memory of something which happened
+to us, perhaps in infancy, comes into our head; nor can we in the least
+connect this recollection with the subject of which we have just been
+thinking, though doubtless there has been a connection, too rapid and
+subtle for our apprehension.</p>
+<p>The foregoing phenomena of memory, so far as we can judge, would
+appear to be present themselves throughout the animal and vegetable
+kingdoms.&nbsp; This will be readily admitted as regards animals; as
+regards plants it may be inferred from the fact that they generally
+go on doing what they have been doing most lately, though accustomed
+to make certain changes at certain points in their existence.&nbsp;
+When the time comes for these changes, they appear to know it, and either
+bud forth into leaf or shed their leaves, as the case may be.&nbsp;
+If we keep a bulb in a paper bag it seems to remember having been a
+bulb before, until the time comes for it to put forth roots and grow.&nbsp;
+Then, if we supply it with earth and moisture, it seems to know where
+it is, and to go on doing now whatever it did when it was last planted;
+but if we keep it in the bag too long, it knows that it ought, according
+to its last experience, to be treated differently, and shows plain symptoms
+of uneasiness; it is distracted by the bag, which makes it remember
+its bulbhood, and also by the want of earth and water, without which
+associations its memory of its previous growth cannot be duly kindled.&nbsp;
+Its roots, therefore, which are most accustomed to earth and water,
+do not grow; but its leaves, which do not require contact with these
+things to jog their memory, make a more decided effort at development
+- a fact which would seem to go strongly in favour of the functional
+independence of the parts of all but the very simplest living organisms,
+if, indeed, more evidence were wanted in support of this.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER X - WHAT WE SHOULD EXPECT TO FIND IF DIFFERENTIATIONS OF
+STRUCTURE AND INSTINCT ARE MAINLY DUE TO MEMORY</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>To repeat briefly; - we remember best our last few performances of
+any given kind, and our present performance is most likely to resemble
+one or other of these; we only remember our earlier performances by
+way of residuum; nevertheless, at times, some older feature is liable
+to reappear.</p>
+<p>We take our steps in the same order on each successive occasion,
+and are for the most part incapable of changing that order.</p>
+<p>The introduction of slightly new elements into our manner is attended
+with benefit; the new can be fused with the old, and the monotony of
+our action is relieved.&nbsp; But if the new element is too foreign,
+we cannot fuse the old and new - nature seeming equally to hate too
+wide a deviation from our ordinary practice, and no deviation at all.&nbsp;
+Or, in plain English - if any one gives us a new idea which is not too
+far ahead of us, such an idea is often of great service to us, and may
+give new life to our work - in fact, we soon go back, unless we more
+or less frequently come into contact with new ideas, and are capable
+of understanding and making use of them; if; on the other hand, they
+are too new, and too little led up to, so that we find them too strange
+and hard to be able to understand them and adopt them, then they put
+us out, with every degree of completeness - from simply causing us to
+fail in this or that particular part, to rendering us incapable of even
+trying to do our work at all, from pure despair of succeeding.</p>
+<p>It requires many repetitions to fix an impression firmly; but when
+it is fixed, we cease to have much recollection of the manner in which
+it came to be so, or of any single and particular recurrence.</p>
+<p>Our memory is mainly called into action by force of association and
+similarity in the surroundings.&nbsp; We want to go on doing what we
+did when we were last as we are now, and we forget what we did in the
+meantime.</p>
+<p>These rules, however, are liable to many exceptions; as for example,
+that a single and apparently not very extraordinary occurrence may sometimes
+produce a lasting impression, and be liable to return with sudden force
+at some distant time, and then to go on returning to us at intervals.&nbsp;
+Some incidents, in fact, we know not how nor why, dwell with us much
+longer than others which were apparently quite as noteworthy or perhaps
+more so.</p>
+<p>Now I submit that if the above observations are just, and if, also,
+the offspring, after having become a new and separate personality, yet
+retains so much of the old identity of which it was once indisputably
+part, that it remembers what it did when it was part of that identity
+as soon as it finds itself in circumstances which are calculated to
+refresh its memory owing to their similarity to certain antecedent ones,
+then we should expect to find:-</p>
+<p>I.&nbsp; That offspring should, as a general rule, resemble its own
+most immediate progenitors; that is to say, that it should remember
+best what it has been doing most recently.&nbsp; The memory being a
+fusion of its recollections of what it did, both when it was its father
+and also when it was its mother, the offspring should have a very common
+tendency to resemble both parents, the one in some respects, and the
+other in others; but it might also hardly less commonly show a more
+marked recollection of the one history than of the other, thus more
+distinctly resembling one parent than the other.&nbsp; And this is what
+we observe to be the case.&nbsp; Not only so far as that the offspring
+is almost invariably either male or female, and generally resembles
+rather the one parent than the other, but also that in spite of such
+preponderance of one set of recollections, the sexual characters and
+instincts of the <i>opposite</i> sex appear, whether in male or female,
+though undeveloped and incapable of development except by abnormal treatment,
+such as has occasionally caused milk to be developed in the mammary
+glands of males; or by mutilation, or failure of sexual instinct through
+age, upon which, male characteristics frequently appear in the females
+of any species.</p>
+<p>Brothers and sisters, each giving their own version of the same story,
+though in different words, should resemble each other more closely than
+more distant relations.&nbsp; This too we see.</p>
+<p>But it should frequently happen that offspring should resemble its
+penultimate rather than its latest phase, and should thus be more like
+a grand-parent than a parent; for we observe that we very often repeat
+a performance in a manner resembling that of some earlier, but still
+recent, repetition; rather than on the precise lines of our very last
+performance.&nbsp; First-cousins may in this case resemble each other
+more closely than brothers and sisters.</p>
+<p>More especially, we should not expect very successful men to be fathers
+of particularly gifted children; for the best men are, as it were, the
+happy thoughts and successes of the race - nature&rsquo;s &ldquo;flukes,&rdquo;
+so to speak, in her onward progress.&nbsp; No creature can repeat at
+will, and immediately, its highest flight.&nbsp; It needs repose.&nbsp;
+The generations are the essays of any given race towards the highest
+ideal which it is as yet able to see ahead of itself, and this, in the
+nature of things, cannot be very far; so that we should expect to see
+success followed by more or less failure, and failure by success - a
+very successful creature being a <i>great</i> &ldquo;fluke.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And this is what we find.</p>
+<p>In its earlier stages the embryo should be simply conscious of a
+general method of procedure on the part of its forefathers, and should,
+by reason of long practice, compress tedious and complicated histories
+into a very narrow compass, remembering no single performance in particular.&nbsp;
+For we observe this in nature, both as regards the sleight-of-hand which
+practice gives to those who are thoroughly familiar with their business,
+and also as regards the fusion of remoter memories into a general residuum.</p>
+<p>II.&nbsp; We should expect to find that the offspring, whether in
+its embryonic condition, or in any stage of development till it has
+reached maturity, should adopt nearly the same order in going through
+all its various stages.&nbsp; There should be such slight variations
+as are inseparable from the repetition of any performance by a living
+being (as contrasted with a machine), but no more.&nbsp; And this is
+what actually happens.&nbsp; A man may cut his wisdom-teeth a little
+later than he gets his beard and whiskers, or a little earlier; but
+on the whole, he adheres to his usual order, and is completely set off
+his balance, and upset in his performance, if that order be interfered
+with suddenly.&nbsp; It is, however, likely that gradual modifications
+of order have been made and then adhered to.</p>
+<p>After any animal has reached the period at which it ordinarily begins
+to continue its race, we should expect that it should show little further
+power of development, or, at any rate, that few great changes of structure
+or fresh features should appear; for we cannot suppose offspring to
+remember anything that happens to the parent subsequently to the parent&rsquo;s
+ceasing to contain the offspring within itself; from the average age,
+therefore, of reproduction, offspring would cease to have any further
+experience on which to fall back, and would thus continue to make the
+best use of what it already knew, till memory failing either in one
+part or another, the organism would begin to decay.</p>
+<p>To this cause must be referred the phenomena of old age, which interesting
+subject I am unable to pursue within the limits of this volume.</p>
+<p>Those creatures who are longest in reaching maturity might be expected
+also to be the longest lived; I am not certain, however, how far what
+is called alternate generation militates against this view, but I do
+not think it does so seriously.</p>
+<p>Lateness of marriage, provided the constitution of the individuals
+marrying is in no respect impaired, should also tend to longevity.</p>
+<p>I believe that all the above will be found sufficiently well supported
+by facts.&nbsp; If so, when we feel that we are getting old we should
+try and give our cells such treatment as they will find it most easy
+to understand, through their experience of their own individual life,
+which, however, can only guide them inferentially, and to a very small
+extent; and throughout life we should remember the important bearing
+which memory has upon health, and both occasionally cross the memories
+of our component cells with slightly new experiences, and be careful
+not to put them either suddenly or for long together into conditions
+which they will not be able to understand.&nbsp; Nothing is so likely
+to make our cells forget themselves, as neglect of one or other of these
+considerations.&nbsp; They will either fail to recognise themselves
+completely, in which case we shall die; or they will go on strike, more
+or less seriously as the case may be, or perhaps, rather, they will
+try and remember their usual course, and fail; they will therefore try
+some other, and will probably make a mess of it, as people generally
+do when they try to do things which they do not understand, unless indeed
+they have very exceptional capacity.</p>
+<p>It also follows that when we are ill, our cells being in such or
+such a state of mind, and inclined to hold a corresponding opinion with
+more or less unreasoning violence, should not be puzzled more than they
+are puzzled already, by being contradicted too suddenly; for they will
+not be in a frame of mind which can understand the position of an open
+opponent: they should therefore either be let alone, if possible, without
+notice other than dignified silence, till their spleen is over, and
+till they have remembered themselves; or they should be reasoned with
+as by one who agrees with them, and who is anxious to see things as
+far as possible from their own point of view.&nbsp; And this is how
+experience teaches that we must deal with monomaniacs, whom we simply
+infuriate by contradiction, but whose delusion we can sometimes persuade
+to hang itself if we but give it sufficient rope.&nbsp; All which has
+its bearing upon politics, too, at much sacrifice, it may be, of political
+principles, but a politician who cannot see principles where principle-mongers
+fail to see them, is a dangerous person.</p>
+<p>I may say, in passing, that the reason why a small wound heals, and
+leaves no scar, while a larger one leaves a mark which is more or less
+permanent, may be looked for in the fact that when the wound is only
+small, the damaged cells are snubbed, so to speak, by the vast majority
+of the unhurt cells in their own neighbourhood.&nbsp; When the wound
+is more serious they can stick to it, and bear each other out that they
+were hurt.</p>
+<p>III.&nbsp; We should expect to find a predominance of sexual over
+asexual generation, in the arrangements of nature for continuing her
+various species, inasmuch as two heads are better than one, and a <i>locus
+p&oelig;nitenti&aelig;</i> is thus given to the embryo - an opportunity
+of correcting the experience of one parent by that of the other.&nbsp;
+And this is what the more intelligent embryos may be supposed to do;
+for there would seem little reason to doubt that there are clever embryos
+and stupid embryos, with better or worse memories, as the case may be,
+of how they dealt with their protoplasm before, and better or worse
+able to see how they can do better now; and that embryos differ as widely
+in intellectual and moral capacity, and in a general sense of the fitness
+of things, and of what will look well into the bargain, as those larger
+embryos - to wit, children - do.&nbsp; Indeed it would seem probable
+that all our mental powers must go through a quasi-embryological condition,
+much as the power of keeping, and wisely spending, money must do so,
+and that all the qualities of human thought and character are to be
+found in the embryo.</p>
+<p>Those who have observed at what an early age differences of intellect
+and temper show themselves in the young, for example, of cats and dogs,
+will find it difficult to doubt that from the very moment of impregnation,
+and onward, there has been a corresponding difference in the embryo
+- and that of six unborn puppies, one, we will say, has been throughout
+the whole process of development more sensible and better looking -
+a nicer embryo, in fact - than the others.</p>
+<p>IV.&nbsp; We should expect to find that all species, whether of plants
+or animals, are occasionally benefited by a cross; but we should also
+expect that a cross should have a tendency to introduce a disturbing
+element, if it be too wide, inasmuch as the offspring would be pulled
+hither and thither by two conflicting memories or advices, much as though
+a number of people speaking at once were without previous warning to
+advise an unhappy performer to vary his ordinary performance - one set
+of people telling him he has always hitherto done thus, and the other
+saying no less loudly that he did it thus; - and he were suddenly to
+become convinced that they each spoke the truth.&nbsp; In such a case
+he will either completely break down, if the advice be too conflicting,
+or if it be less conflicting, he may yet be so exhausted by the one
+supreme effort of fusing these experiences that he will never be able
+to perform again; or if the conflict of experience be not great enough
+to produce such a permanent effect as this, it will yet, if it be at
+all serious, probably damage his performances on their next several
+occasions, through his inability to fuse the experiences into a harmonious
+whole, or, in other words, to understand the ideas which are prescribed
+to him; for to fuse is only to understand.</p>
+<p>And this is absolutely what we find in fact.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin writes
+concerning hybrids and first crosses:- &ldquo;The male element may reach
+the female element, but be incapable of causing an embryo to be developed,
+as seems to have been the case with some of Thuret&rsquo;s experiments
+on Fuci.&nbsp; No explanation can be given of these facts any more than
+why certain trees cannot be grafted on others.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I submit that what I have written above supplies a very fair <i>prim&acirc;
+facie</i> explanation.</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin continues:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Lastly, an embryo may be developed, and then perish at an
+early period.&nbsp; This latter alternative has not been sufficiently
+attended to; but I believe, from observations communicated to me by
+Mr. Hewitt, who has had great experience in hybridising pheasants and
+fowls, that the early death of the embryo is a very frequent cause of
+sterility in first crosses.&nbsp; Mr. Salter has recently given the
+results of an examination of about five hundred eggs produced from various
+crosses between three species of Gallus and their hybrids; the majority
+of these eggs had been fertilised; and in the majority of the fertilised
+eggs, the embryos had either been partially developed, and had then
+perished, or had become nearly mature, but the young chickens had been
+unable to break through the shell.&nbsp; Of the chickens which were
+born more than four-fifths died within the first few days, or at latest
+weeks, &lsquo;without any obvious cause, apparently from mere inability
+to live,&rsquo; so that from the five hundred eggs only twelve chickens
+were reared&rdquo; (&ldquo;Origin of Species,&rdquo; 249, ed. 1876).</p>
+<p>No wonder the poor creatures died, distracted as they were by the
+internal tumult of conflicting memories.&nbsp; But they must have suffered
+greatly; and the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals may
+perhaps think it worth while to keep an eye even on the embryos of hybrids
+and first crosses.&nbsp; Five hundred creatures puzzled to death is
+not a pleasant subject for contemplation.&nbsp; Ten or a dozen should,
+I think, be sufficient for the future.</p>
+<p>As regards plants, we read:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hybridised embryos probably often perish in like manner .
+. . of which fact Max Wichura has given some striking cases with hybrid
+willows . . . It may be here worth noticing, that in some cases of parthenogenesis,
+the embryos within the eggs of silk moths, which have not been fertilised,
+pass through their early stages of development, and then perish like
+the embryos produced by a cross between distinct species&rdquo; <i>(Ibid).</i></p>
+<p>This last fact would at first sight seem to make against me, but
+we must consider that the presence of a double memory, provided it be
+not too conflicting, would be a part of the experience of the silk moth&rsquo;s
+egg, which might be then as fatally puzzled by the monotony of a single
+memory as it would be by two memories which were not sufficiently like
+each other.&nbsp; So that failure here must be referred to the utter
+absence of that little internal stimulant of slightly conflicting memory
+which the creature has always hitherto experienced, and without which
+it fails to recognise itself.&nbsp; In either case, then, whether with
+hybrids or in cases of parthenogenesis, the early death of the embryo
+is due to inability to recollect, owing to a fault in the chain of associated
+ideas.&nbsp; All the facts here given are an excellent illustration
+of the principle, elsewhere insisted upon by Mr. Darwin, that <i>any</i>
+great and sudden change of surroundings has a tendency to induce sterility;
+on which head he writes (&ldquo;Plants and Animals under Domestication,&rdquo;
+vol. ii. p. 143, ed. 1875):-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It would appear that any change in the habits of life, whatever
+their habits may be, if great enough, tends to affect in an inexplicable
+manner the powers of reproduction.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And again on the next page:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Finally, we must conclude, limited though the conclusion is,
+that changed conditions of life have an especial power of acting injuriously
+on the reproductive system.&nbsp; The whole case is quite peculiar,
+for these organs, though not diseased, are thus rendered incapable of
+performing their proper functions, or perform them imperfectly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>One is inclined to doubt whether the blame may not rest with the
+inability on the part of the creature reproduced to recognise the new
+surroundings, and hence with its failing to know itself.&nbsp; And this
+seems to be in some measure supported - but not in such a manner as
+I can hold to be quite satisfactory - by the continuation of the passage
+in the &ldquo;Origin of Species,&rdquo; from which I have just been
+quoting - for Mr. Darwin goes on to say:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hybrids, however, are differently circumstanced before and
+after birth.&nbsp; When born, and living in a country where their parents
+live, they are generally placed under suitable conditions of life.&nbsp;
+But a hybrid partakes of only half of the nature and condition of its
+mother; it may therefore before birth, as long as it is nourished within
+its mother&rsquo;s womb, or within the egg or seed produced by its mother,
+be exposed to conditions in some degree unsuitable, and consequently
+be liable to perish at an early period . . . &rdquo;&nbsp; After which,
+however, the conclusion arrived at is, that, &ldquo;after all, the cause
+more probably lies in some imperfection in the original act of impregnation,
+causing the embryo to be imperfectly developed rather than in the conditions
+to which it is subsequently exposed.&rdquo;&nbsp; A conclusion which
+I am not prepared to accept.</p>
+<p>Returning to my second alternative, that is to say, to the case of
+hybrids which are born well developed and healthy, but nevertheless
+perfectly sterile, it is less obvious why, having succeeded in understanding
+the conflicting memories of their parents, they should fail to produce
+offspring; but I do not think the reader will feel surprised that this
+should be the case.&nbsp; The following anecdote, true or false, may
+not be out of place here:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Plutarch tells us of a magpie, belonging to a barber at Rome,
+which could imitate to a nicety almost every word it heard.&nbsp; Some
+trumpets happened one day to be sounded before the shop, and for a day
+or two afterwards the magpie was quite mute, and seemed pensive and
+melancholy.&nbsp; All who knew it were greatly surprised at its silence;
+and it was supposed that the sound of the trumpets had so stunned it
+as to deprive it at once of both voice and hearing.&nbsp; It soon appeared,
+however, that this was far from being the case; for, says Plutarch,
+the bird had been all the time occupied in profound meditation, studying
+how to imitate the sound of the trumpets; and when at last master of
+it, the magpie, to the astonishment of all its friends, suddenly broke
+its long silence by a perfect imitation of the flourish of trumpets
+it had heard, observing with the greatest exactness all the repetitions,
+stops, and changes.&nbsp; <i>The acquisition of this lesson had, however,
+exhausted the whole of the magpie&rsquo;s stock of intellect, for it
+made it forget everything it had learned before</i>&rdquo; (&ldquo;Percy
+Anecdotes,&rdquo; Instinct, p. 166).</p>
+<p>Or, perhaps, more seriously, the memory of every impregnate ovum
+from which every ancestor of a mule, for example, has sprung, has reverted
+to a very long period of time during which its forefathers have been
+creatures like that which it is itself now going to become: thus, the
+impregnate ovum from which the mule&rsquo;s father was developed remembered
+nothing but horse memories; but it felt its faith in these supported
+by the recollection of a <i>vast number</i> of previous generations,
+in which it was, to all intents and purposes, what it now is.&nbsp;
+In like manner, the impregnate ovum from which the mule&rsquo;s mother
+was developed would be backed by the assurance that it had done what
+it is going to do now a hundred thousand times already.&nbsp; All would
+thus be plain sailing.&nbsp; A horse and a donkey would result.&nbsp;
+These two are brought together; an impregnate ovum is produced which
+finds an unusual conflict of memory between the two lines of its ancestors,
+nevertheless, being accustomed to <i>some</i> conflict, it manages to
+get over the difficulty, <i>as on either side it finds itself backed
+by a very long series of sufficiently steady memory</i>.&nbsp; A mule
+results - a creature so distinctly different from either horse or donkey,
+that reproduction is baffled, owing to the creature&rsquo;s having nothing
+but its own knowledge of itself to fall back upon, behind which there
+comes an immediate dislocation, or fault of memory, which is sufficient
+to bar identity, and hence reproduction, by rendering too severe an
+appeal to reason necessary - for no creature can reproduce itself on
+the shallow foundation which reason can alone give.&nbsp; Ordinarily,
+therefore, the hybrid, or the spermatozoon or ovum, which it may throw
+off (as the case may be), finds one single experience too small to give
+it the necessary faith, on the strength of which even to try to reproduce
+itself.&nbsp; In other cases the hybrid itself has failed to be developed;
+in others the hybrid, or first cross, is almost fertile; in others it
+is fertile, but produces depraved issue.&nbsp; The result will vary
+with the capacities of the creatures crossed, and the amount of conflict
+between their several experiences.</p>
+<p>The above view would remove all difficulties out of the way of evolution,
+in so far as the sterility of hybrids is concerned.&nbsp; For it would
+thus appear that this sterility has nothing to do with any supposed
+immutable or fixed limits of species, but results simply from the same
+principle which prevents old friends, no matter how intimate in youth,
+from returning to their old intimacy after a lapse of years, during
+which they have been subjected to widely different influences, inasmuch
+as they will each have contracted new habits, and have got into new
+ways, which they do not like now to alter.</p>
+<p>We should expect that our domesticated plants and animals should
+vary most, inasmuch as these have been subjected to changed conditions
+which would disturb the memory, and, breaking the chain of recollection,
+through failure of some one or other of the associated ideas, would
+thus directly and most markedly affect the reproductive system.&nbsp;
+Every reader of Mr. Darwin will know that this is what actually happens,
+and also that when once a plant or animal begins to vary, it will probably
+vary a good deal further; which, again, is what we should expect - the
+disturbance of the memory introducing a fresh factor of disturbance,
+which has to be dealt with by the offspring as it best may.&nbsp; Mr.
+Darwin writes: &ldquo;All our domesticated productions, with the rarest
+exceptions, vary far more than natural species&rdquo; (&ldquo;Plants
+and Animals,&rdquo; &amp;c., vol ii. p. 241, ed. 1875).</p>
+<p>On my third supposition, <i>i.e</i>., when the difference between
+parents has not been great enough to baffle reproduction on the part
+of the first cross, but when the histories of the father and mother
+have been, nevertheless, widely different - as in the case of Europeans
+and Indians - we should expect to have a race of offspring who should
+seem to be quite clear only about those points, on which their progenitors
+on both sides were in accord before the manifold divergencies in their
+experiences commenced; that is to say, the offspring should show a tendency
+to revert to an early savage condition.</p>
+<p>That this indeed occurs may be seen from Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s &ldquo;Plants
+and Animals under Domestication&rdquo; (vol ii. p. 21, ed. 1875), where
+we find that travellers in all parts of the world have frequently remarked
+&ldquo;<i>on the degraded state and savage condition of crossed races
+of man</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; A few lines lower down Mr. Darwin tells us
+that he was himself &ldquo;struck with the fact that, in South America,
+men of complicated descent between Negroes, Indians, and Spaniards seldom
+had, whatever the cause might be, a good expression.&rdquo;&nbsp; &ldquo;Livingstone&rdquo;
+(continues Mr. Darwin) &ldquo;remarks, &lsquo;It is unaccountable why
+half-castes are so much more cruel than the Portuguese, but such is
+undoubtedly the case.&rsquo;&nbsp; An inhabitant remarked to Livingstone,
+&lsquo;God made white men, and God made black men, but the devil made
+half-castes.&rsquo;&rdquo;&nbsp; A little further on Mr. Darwin says
+that we may &ldquo;perhaps infer that the degraded state of so many
+half-castes <i>is in part due to reversion to a primitive and savage
+condition, induced by the act of crossing</i>, even if mainly due to
+the unfavourable moral conditions under which they are generally reared.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Why the crossing should produce this particular tendency would seem
+to be intelligible enough, if the fashion and instincts of offspring
+are, in any case, nothing but the memories of its past existences; but
+it would hardly seem to be so upon any of the theories now generally
+accepted; as, indeed, is very readily admitted by Mr. Darwin himself,
+who even, as regards purely-bred animals and plants, remarks that &ldquo;we
+are quite unable to assign any proximate cause&rdquo; for their tendency
+to at times reassume long lost characters.</p>
+<p>If the reader will follow for himself the remaining phenomena of
+reversion, he will, I believe, find them all explicable on the theory
+that they are due to memory of past experiences fused, and modified
+- at times specifically and definitely - by changed conditions.&nbsp;
+There is, however, one apparently very important phenomenon which I
+do not at this moment see how to connect with memory, namely, the tendency
+on the part of offspring to revert to an earlier impregnation.&nbsp;
+Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s &ldquo;Provisional Theory of Pangenesis&rdquo; seemed
+to afford a satisfactory explanation of this; but the connection with
+memory was not immediately apparent.&nbsp; I think it likely, however,
+that this difficulty will vanish on further consideration, so I will
+not do more than call attention to it here.</p>
+<p>The instincts of certain neuter insects hardly bear upon reversion,
+but will be dealt with at some length in Chapter XII.</p>
+<p>V.&nbsp; We should expect to find, as was insisted on in the preceding
+section in reference to the sterility of hybrids, that it required many,
+or at any rate several, generations of changed habits before a sufficiently
+deep impression could be made upon the living being (who must be regarded
+always as one person in his whole line of ascent or descent) for it
+to be unconsciously remembered by him, when making himself anew in any
+succeeding generation, and thus to make him modify his method of procedure
+during his next embryological development.&nbsp; Nevertheless, we should
+expect to find that sometimes a very deep single impression made upon
+a living organism, should be remembered by it, even when it is next
+in an embryonic condition.</p>
+<p>That this is so, we find from Mr. Darwin, who writes (&ldquo;Plants
+and Animals under Domestication,&rdquo; vol. ii. p. 57, ed. 1875) -
+&ldquo;There is ample evidence that the effect of mutilations and of
+accidents, especially, or perhaps exclusively, when followed by disease&rdquo;
+(which would certainly intensify the impression made), &ldquo;are occasionally
+inherited.&nbsp; There can be no doubt that the evil effects of the
+long continued exposure of the parent to injurious conditions are sometimes
+transmitted to the offspring.&rdquo;&nbsp; As regards impressions of
+a less striking character, it is so universally admitted that they are
+not observed to be repeated in what is called the offspring, until they
+have been confirmed in what is called the parent, for several generations,
+but that after several generations, more or fewer as the case may be,
+they often are transmitted - that it seems unnecessary to say more upon
+the matter.&nbsp; Perhaps, however, the following passage from Mr. Darwin
+may be admitted as conclusive:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That they&rdquo; (acquired actions) &ldquo;are inherited,
+we see with horses in certain transmitted paces, such as cantering and
+ambling, which are not natural to them - in the pointing of young pointers,
+and the setting of young setters - in the peculiar manner of flight
+of certain breeds of the pigeon, &amp;c.&nbsp; We have analogous cases
+with mankind in the inheritance of tricks or unusual gestures.&rdquo;
+. . . (&ldquo;Expression of the Emotions,&rdquo; p. 29).</p>
+<p>In another place Mr. Darwin writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How again can we explain <i>the inherited effects</i> of the
+use or disuse of particular organs?&nbsp; The domesticated duck flies
+less and walks more than the wild duck, and its limb bones have become
+diminished and increased in a corresponding manner in comparison with
+those of the wild duck.&nbsp; A horse is trained to certain paces, and
+the colt inherits similar consensual movements.&nbsp; The domesticated
+rabbit becomes tame from close confinement; the dog intelligent from
+associating with man; the retriever is taught to fetch and carry; and
+these mental endowments and bodily powers are all inherited&rdquo; (&ldquo;Plants
+and Animals,&rdquo; &amp;c., vol. ii. p. 367, ed. 1875).</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Nothing,&rdquo; he continues, &ldquo;in the whole circuit
+of physiology is more wonderful.&nbsp; How can the use or disuse of
+a particular limb, or of the brain, affect a small aggregate of reproductive
+cells, seated in a distant part of the body in such a manner that the
+being developed from these cells inherits the character of one or both
+parents?&nbsp; Even an imperfect answer to this question would be satisfactory&rdquo;
+(&ldquo;Plants and Animals,&rdquo; &amp;c. vol. ii. p. 367, ed. 1875).</p>
+<p>With such an imperfect answer will I attempt to satisfy the reader,
+as to say that there appears to be that kind of continuity of existence
+and sameness of personality, between parents and offspring, which would
+lead us to expect that the impressions made upon the parent should be
+epitomised in the offspring, when they have been or have become important
+enough, through repetition in the history of several so-called existences
+to have earned a place in that smaller edition, which is issued from
+generation to generation; or, in other words, when they have been made
+so deeply, either at one blow or through many, that the offspring can
+remember them.&nbsp; In practice we observe this to be the case - so
+that the answer lies in the assertion that offspring and parent, being
+in one sense but the same individual, there is no great wonder that,
+in one sense, the first should remember what had happened to the latter;
+and that too, much in the same way as the individual remembers the events
+in the earlier history of what he calls his own lifetime, but condensed,
+and pruned of detail, and remembered as by one who has had a host of
+other matters to attend to in the interim.</p>
+<p>It is thus easy to understand why such a rite as circumcision, though
+practised during many ages, should have produced little, if any, modification
+tending to make circumcision unnecessary.&nbsp; On the view here supported
+such modification would be more surprising than not, for unless the
+impression made upon the parent was of a grave character - and probably
+unless also aggravated by subsequent confusion of memories in the cells
+surrounding the part originally impressed - the parent himself would
+not be sufficiently impressed to prevent him from reproducing himself,
+as he had already done upon an infinite number of past occasions.&nbsp;
+The child, therefore, in the womb would do what the father in the womb
+had done before him, nor should any trace of memory concerning circumcision
+be expected till the eighth day after birth, when, but for the fact
+that the impression in this case is forgotten almost as soon as made,
+some slight presentiment of coming discomfort might, after a large number
+of generations, perhaps be looked for as a general rule.&nbsp; It would
+not, however, be surprising, that the effect of circumcision should
+be occasionally inherited, and it would appear as though this was sometimes
+actually the case.</p>
+<p>The question should turn upon whether the disuse of an organ has
+arisen:-</p>
+<p>1.&nbsp; From an internal desire on the part of the creature disusing
+it, to be quit of an organ which it finds troublesome.</p>
+<p>2.&nbsp; From changed conditions and habits which render the organ
+no longer necessary, or which lead the creature to lay greater stress
+on certain other organs or modifications.</p>
+<p>3.&nbsp; From the wish of others outside itself; the effect produced
+in this case being perhaps neither very good nor very bad for the individual,
+and resulting in no grave impression upon the organism as a whole.</p>
+<p>4.&nbsp; From a single deep impression on a parent, affecting both
+himself as a whole, and gravely confusing the memories of the cells
+to be reproduced, or his memories in respect of those cells - according
+as one adopts Pangenesis and supposes a memory to &ldquo;run&rdquo;
+each gemmule, or as one supposes one memory to &ldquo;run&rdquo; the
+whole impregnate ovum - a compromise between these two views being nevertheless
+perhaps possible, inasmuch as the combined memories of all the cells
+may possibly <i>be</i> the memory which &ldquo;runs&rdquo; the impregnate
+ovum, just as we <i>are</i> ourselves the combination of all our cells,
+each one of which is both autonomous, and also takes its share in the
+central government.&nbsp; But within the limits of this volume it is
+absolutely impossible for me to go into this question.</p>
+<p>In the first case - under which some instances which belong more
+strictly to the fourth would sometimes, but rarely, come - the organ
+should soon go, and sooner or later leave no rudiment, though still
+perhaps to be found crossing the life of the embryo, and then disappearing.</p>
+<p>In the second it should go more slowly, and leave, it may be, a rudimentary
+structure.</p>
+<p>In the third it should show little or no sign of natural decrease
+for a very long time.</p>
+<p>In the fourth there may be absolute and total sterility, or sterility
+in regard to the particular organ, or a scar which shall show that the
+memory of the wound and of each step in the process of healing has been
+remembered; or there may be simply such disturbance in the reproduced
+organ as shall show a confused recollection of injury.&nbsp; There may
+be infinite gradations between the first and last of these possibilities.</p>
+<p>I think that the facts, as given by Mr. Darwin (&ldquo;Plants and
+Animals,&rdquo; &amp;c., vol i. pp. 466-472, ed. 1875), will bear out
+the above to the satisfaction of the reader.&nbsp; I can, however, only
+quote the following passage:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo; . . . Brown S&eacute;quard has bred during thirty years many
+thousand guinea-pigs, . . . nor has he ever seen a guinea-pig born without
+toes which was not the offspring of parents <i>which had gnawed off
+their own toes</i>, owing to the sciatic nerve having been divided.&nbsp;
+Of this fact thirteen instances were carefully recorded, and a greater
+number were seen; yet Brown S&eacute;quard speaks of such cases as among
+the rarer forms of inheritance.&nbsp; It is a still more interesting
+fact - &lsquo;that the sciatic nerve in the congenitally toeless animal
+has inherited the power of passing through <i>all the different morbid
+states</i> which have occurred in one of its parents <i>from the time
+of division</i> till after its reunion with the peripheric end.&nbsp;
+It is not therefore the power of simply performing an action which is
+inherited, but the power of performing a whole series of actions in
+a certain order.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I feel inclined to say it is not merely the original wound that is
+remembered, but the whole process of cure which is now accordingly repeated.&nbsp;
+Brown S&eacute;quard concludes, as Mr. Darwin tells us, &ldquo;that
+what is transmitted is the morbid state of the nervous system,&rdquo;
+due to the operation performed on the parents.</p>
+<p>A little lower down Mr. Darwin writes that Professor Rolleston has
+given him two cases - &ldquo;namely, of two men, one of whom had his
+knee, and the other his cheek, severely cut, and both had children born
+with exactly the same spot marked or scarred.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>VI.&nbsp; When, however, an impression has once reached transmission
+point - whether it be of the nature of a sudden striking thought, which
+makes its mark deeply then and there, or whether it be the result of
+smaller impressions repeated until the nail, so to speak, has been driven
+home - we should expect that it should be remembered by the offspring
+as something which he has done all his life, and which he has therefore
+no longer any occasion to learn; he will act, therefore, as people say,
+<i>instinctively</i>.&nbsp; No matter how complex and difficult the
+process, if the parents have done it sufficiently often (that is to
+say, for a sufficient number of generations), the offspring will remember
+the fact when association wakens the memory; it will need no instruction,
+and - unless when it has been taught to look for it during many generations
+- will expect none.&nbsp; This may be seen in the case of the humming-bird
+sphinx moth, which, as Mr. Darwin writes, &ldquo;shortly after its emergence
+from the cocoon, as shown by the bloom on its unruffled scales, may
+be seen poised stationary in the air with its long hair-like proboscis
+uncurled, and inserted into the minute orifices of flowers; <i>and no
+one I believe has ever seen</i> this moth learning to perform its difficult
+task, which requires such unerring aim&rdquo; (&ldquo;Expression of
+the Emotions,&rdquo; p. 30).</p>
+<p>And, indeed, when we consider that after a time the most complex
+and difficult actions come to be performed by man without the least
+effort or consciousness - that offspring cannot be considered as anything
+but a continuation of the parent life, whose past habits and experiences
+it epitomises when they have been sufficiently often repeated to produce
+a lasting impression - that consciousness of memory vanishes on the
+memory&rsquo;s becoming intense, as completely as the consciousness
+of complex and difficult movements vanishes as soon as they have been
+sufficiently practised - and finally, that the real presence of memory
+is testified rather by performance of the repeated action on recurrence
+of like surroundings, than by consciousness of recollecting on the part
+of the individual - so that not only should there be no reasonable bar
+to our attributing the whole range of the more complex instinctive actions,
+from first to last, to memory pure and simple, no matter how marvellous
+they may be, but rather that there is so much to compel us to do so,
+that we find it difficult to conceive how any other view can have been
+ever taken - when, I say, we consider all these facts, we should rather
+feel surprise that the hawk and sparrow still teach their offspring
+to fly, than that the humming-bird sphinx moth should need no teacher.</p>
+<p>The phenomena, then, which we observe are exactly those which we
+should expect to find.</p>
+<p>VII.&nbsp; We should also expect that the memory of animals, as regards
+their earlier existences, was solely stimulated by association.&nbsp;
+For we find, from Prof. Bain, that &ldquo;actions, sensations, and states
+of feeling occurring together, or in close succession, tend to grow
+together or cohere in such a way that when any one of them is afterwards
+presented to the mind, the others are apt to be brought up in idea&rdquo;
+(&ldquo;The Senses and the Intellect,&rdquo; 2d ed. 1864, p. 332).&nbsp;
+And Prof. Huxley says (&ldquo;Elementary Lessons in Physiology,&rdquo;
+5th ed. 1872, p. 306), &ldquo;It may be laid down as a rule that if
+any two mental states be called up together, or in succession, with
+due frequency and vividness, the subsequent production of the one of
+them will suffice to call up the other, <i>and that whether we desire
+it or not</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; I would go one step further, and would say
+not only whether we desire it or not, but <i>whether we are aware that
+the idea has ever before been called up in our minds or not</i>.&nbsp;
+I should say that I have quoted both the above passages from Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Expression of the Emotions&rdquo; (p. 30, ed. 1872).</p>
+<p>We should, therefore, expect that when the offspring found itself
+in the presence of objects which had called up such and such ideas for
+a sufficient number of generations, that is to say, &ldquo;with due
+frequency and vividness&rdquo; - it being of the same age as its parents
+were, and generally in like case as when the ideas were called up in
+the minds of the parents - the same ideas should also be called up in
+the minds of the offspring &ldquo;<i>whether they desire it or not</i>;&rdquo;
+and, I would say also, &ldquo;whether they recognise the ideas as having
+ever before been present to them or not.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I think we might also expect that no other force, save that of association,
+should have power to kindle, so to speak, into the flame of action the
+atomic spark of memory, which we can alone suppose to be transmitted
+from one generation to another.</p>
+<p>That both plants and animals do as we should expect of them in this
+respect is plain, not only from the performance of the most intricate
+and difficult actions - difficult both physically and intellectually
+- at an age, and under circumstances which preclude all possibility
+of what we call instruction, but from the fact that deviations from
+the parental instinct, or rather the recurrence of a memory, unless
+in connection with the accustomed train of associations, is of comparatively
+rare occurrence; the result, commonly, of some one of the many memories
+about which we know no more than we do of the memory which enables a
+cat to find her way home after a hundred-mile journey by train, and
+shut up in a hamper, or, perhaps even more commonly, of abnormal treatment.</p>
+<p>VIII.&nbsp; If, then, memory depends on association, we should expect
+two corresponding phenomena in the case of plants and animals - namely,
+that they should show a tendency to resume feral habits on being turned
+wild after several generations of domestication, and also that peculiarities
+should tend to show themselves at a corresponding age in the offspring
+and in the parents.&nbsp; As regards the tendency to resume feral habits,
+Mr. Darwin, though apparently of opinion that the tendency to do this
+has been much exaggerated, yet does not doubt that such a tendency exists,
+as shown by well authenticated instances.&nbsp; He writes: &ldquo;It
+has been repeatedly asserted in the most positive manner by various
+authors that feral animals and plants invariably return to their primitive
+specific type.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This shows, at any rate, that there is a considerable opinion to
+this effect among observers generally.</p>
+<p>He continues: &ldquo;It is curious on what little evidence this belief
+rests.&nbsp; Many of our domesticated animals could not subsist in a
+wild state,&rdquo; - so that there is no knowing whether they would
+or would not revert.&nbsp; &ldquo;In several cases we do not know the
+aboriginal parent species, and cannot tell whether or not there has
+been any close degree of reversion.&rdquo;&nbsp; So that here, too,
+there is at any rate no evidence <i>against</i> the tendency; the conclusion,
+however, is that, notwithstanding the deficiency of positive evidence
+to warrant the general belief as to the force of the tendency, yet &ldquo;the
+simple fact of animals and plants becoming feral does cause some tendency
+to revert to the primitive state,&rdquo; and he tells us that &ldquo;when
+variously-coloured tame rabbits are turned out in Europe, they generally
+re-acquire the colouring of the wild animal;&rdquo; there can be no
+doubt,&rdquo; he says, &ldquo;that this really does occur,&rdquo; though
+he seems inclined to account for it by the fact that oddly-coloured
+and conspicuous animals would suffer much from beasts of prey and from
+being easily shot.&nbsp; &ldquo;The best known case of reversion:&rdquo;
+he continues, &ldquo;and that on which the widely-spread belief in its
+universality apparently rests, is that of pigs.&nbsp; These animals
+have run wild in the West Indies, South America, and the Falkland Islands,
+and have everywhere re-acquired the dark colour, the thick bristles,
+and great tusks of the wild boar; and the young have re-acquired longitudinal
+stripes.&rdquo;&nbsp; And on page 22 of &ldquo;Plants and Animals under
+Domestication&rdquo; (vol. ii. ed. 1875) we find that &ldquo;the re-appearance
+of coloured, longitudinal stripes on young feral pigs cannot be attributed
+to the direct action of external conditions.&nbsp; In this case, and
+in many others, we can only say that any change in the habits of life
+apparently favours a tendency, inherent or latent, in the species to
+return to the primitive state.&rdquo;&nbsp; On which one cannot but
+remark that though any change may favour such tendency, yet the return
+to original habits and surroundings appears to do so in a way so marked
+as not to be readily referable to any other cause than that of association
+and memory - the creature, in fact, having got into its old groove,
+remembers it, and takes to all its old ways.</p>
+<p>As regards the tendency to inherit changes (whether embryonic, or
+during post-natal development as ordinarily observed in any species),
+or peculiarities of habit or form which do not partake of the nature
+of disease, it must be sufficient to refer the reader to Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s
+remarks upon this subject (&ldquo;Plants and Animals Under Domestication,&rdquo;
+vol. ii. pp. 51-57, ed. 1875).&nbsp; The existence of the tendency is
+not likely to be denied.&nbsp; The instances given by Mr. Darwin are
+strictly to the point as regards all ordinary developmental and metamorphic
+changes, and even as regards transmitted acquired actions, and tricks
+acquired before the time when the offspring has issued from the body
+of the parent, or on an average of many generations does so; but it
+cannot for a moment be supposed that the offspring knows by inheritance
+anything about what happens to the parent subsequently to the offspring&rsquo;s
+being born.&nbsp; Hence the appearance of diseases in the offspring,
+at comparatively late periods in life, but at the same age as, or earlier,
+than in the parents, must be regarded as due to the fact that in each
+case the machine having been made after the same pattern (which <i>is</i>
+due to memory), is liable to have the same weak points, and to break
+down after a similar amount of wear and tear; but after less wear and
+tear in the case of the offspring than in that of the parent, because
+a diseased organism is commonly a deteriorating organism, and if repeated
+at all closely, and without repentance and amendment of life, will be
+repeated for the worse.&nbsp; If we do not improve, we grow worse.&nbsp;
+This, at least, is what we observe daily.</p>
+<p>Nor again can we believe, as some have fancifully imagined, that
+the remembrance of any occurrence of which the effect has been entirely,
+or almost entirely mental, should be remembered by offspring with any
+definiteness.&nbsp; The intellect of the offspring might be affected,
+for better or worse, by the general nature of the intellectual employment
+of the parent; or a great shock to a parent might destroy or weaken
+the intellect of the offspring; but unless a deep impression were made
+upon the cells of the body, and deepened by subsequent disease, we could
+not expect it to be remembered with any definiteness, or precision.&nbsp;
+We may talk as we will about mental pain, and mental scars, but after
+all, the impressions they leave are incomparably less durable than those
+made by an organic lesion.&nbsp; It is probable, therefore, that the
+feeling which so many have described, as though they remembered this
+or that in some past existence, is purely imaginary, and due rather
+to unconscious recognition of the fact that we certainly have lived
+before, than to any actual occurrence corresponding to the supposed
+recollection.</p>
+<p>And lastly, we should look to find in the action of memory, as between
+one generation and another, a reflection of the many anomalies and exceptions
+to ordinary rules which we observe in memory, so far as we can watch
+its action in what we call our own single lives, and the single lives
+of others.&nbsp; We should expect that reversion should be frequently
+capricious - that is to say, give us more trouble to account for than
+we are either able or willing to take.&nbsp; And assuredly we find it
+so in fact.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin - from whom it is impossible to quote too
+much or too fully, inasmuch as no one else can furnish such a store
+of facts, so well arranged, and so above all suspicion of either carelessness
+or want of candour - so that, however we may differ from him, it is
+he himself who shows us how to do so, and whose pupils we all are -
+Mr. Darwin writes: &ldquo;In every living being we may rest assured
+that a host of long-lost characters lie ready to be evolved under proper
+conditions&rdquo; (does not one almost long to substitute the word &ldquo;memories&rdquo;
+for the word &ldquo;characters?&rdquo;)&nbsp; &ldquo;How can we make
+intelligible, and connect with other facts, this wonderful and common
+capacity of reversion - this power of calling back to life long-lost
+characters?&rdquo;&nbsp; (&ldquo;Plants and Animals,&rdquo; &amp;c.,
+vol. ii. p. 369, ed. 1875).&nbsp; Surely the answer may be hazarded,
+that we shall be able to do so when we can make intelligible the power
+of calling back to life long-lost memories.&nbsp; But I grant that this
+answer holds out no immediate prospect of a clear understanding.</p>
+<p>One word more.&nbsp; Abundant facts are to be found which point inevitably,
+as will appear more plainly in the following chapter, in the direction
+of thinking that offspring inherits the memories of its parents; but
+I know of no single fact which suggests that parents are in the smallest
+degree affected (other than sympathetically) by the memories of their
+offspring <i>after that offspring has been born</i>.&nbsp; Whether the
+unborn offspring affects the memory of the mother in some particulars,
+and whether we have here the explanation of occasional reversion to
+a previous impregnation, is a matter on which I should hardly like to
+express an opinion now.&nbsp; Nor, again, can I find a single fact which
+seems to indicate any memory of the parental life on the part of offspring
+later than the average date of the offspring&rsquo;s quitting the body
+of the parent.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI - INSTINCT AS INHERITED MEMORY</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>I have already alluded to M. Ribot&rsquo;s work on &ldquo;Heredity,&rdquo;
+from which I will now take the following passages.</p>
+<p>M. Ribot writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Instinct is innate, <i>i.e., anterior to all individual experience</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+This I deny on grounds already abundantly apparent; but let it pass.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Whereas intelligence is developed slowly by accumulated experience,
+instinct is perfect from the first&rdquo; (&ldquo;Heredity,&rdquo; p.
+14).</p>
+<p>Obviously the memory of a habit or experience will not commonly be
+transmitted to offspring in that perfection which is called &ldquo;instinct,&rdquo;
+till the habit or experience has been repeated in several generations
+with more or less uniformity; for otherwise the impression made will
+not be strong enough to endure through the busy and difficult task of
+reproduction.&nbsp; This of course involves that the habit shall have
+attained, as it were equilibrium with the creature&rsquo;s sense of
+its own needs, so that it shall have long seemed the best course possible,
+leaving upon the whole and under ordinary circumstances little further
+to be desired, and hence that it should have been little varied during
+many generations.&nbsp; We should expect that it would be transmitted
+in a more or less partial, varying, imperfect, and intelligent condition
+before equilibrium had been attained; it would, however, continually
+tend towards equilibrium, for reasons which will appear more fully later
+on.</p>
+<p>When this stage has been reached, as regards any habit, the creature
+will cease trying to improve; on which the repetition of the habit will
+become stable, and hence become capable of more unerring transmission
+- but at the same time improvement will cease; the habit will become
+fixed, and be perhaps transmitted at an earlier and earlier age, till
+it has reached that date of manifestation which shall be found most
+agreeable to the other habits of the creature.&nbsp; It will also be
+manifested, as a matter of course, without further consciousness or
+reflection, for people cannot be always opening up settled questions;
+if they thought a matter over yesterday they cannot think it all over
+again to-day, but will adopt for better or worse the conclusion then
+reached; and this, too, even in spite sometimes of considerable misgiving,
+that if they were to think still further they could find a still better
+course.&nbsp; It is not, therefore, to be expected that &ldquo;instinct&rdquo;
+should show signs of that hesitating and tentative action which results
+from knowledge that is still so imperfect as to be actively self-conscious;
+nor yet that it should grow or vary, unless under such changed conditions
+as shall baffle memory, and present the alternative of either invention
+- that is to say, variation - or death.&nbsp; But every instinct must
+have poised through the laboriously intelligent stages through which
+human civilisations <i>and mechanical inventions</i> are now passing;
+and he who would study the origin of an instinct with its development,
+partial transmission, further growth, further transmission, approach
+to more unreflecting stability, and finally, its perfection as an unerring
+and unerringly transmitted instinct, must look to laws, customs, <i>and
+machinery</i> as his best instructors.&nbsp; Customs and machines are
+instincts <i>and organs</i> now in process of development; they will
+assuredly one day reach the unconscious state of equilibrium which we
+observe in the structures and instincts of bees and ants, and an approach
+to which may be found among some savage nations.&nbsp; We may reflect,
+however, not without pleasure, that this condition - the true millennium
+- is still distant.&nbsp; Nevertheless the ants and bees seem happy;
+perhaps more happy than when so many social questions were in as hot
+discussion among them, as other, and not dissimilar ones, will one day
+be amongst ourselves.</p>
+<p>And this, as will be apparent, opens up the whole question of the
+stability of species, which we cannot follow further here, than to say,
+that according to the balance of testimony, many plants and animals
+do appear to have reached a phase of being from which they are hard
+to move - that is to say, they will die sooner than be at the pains
+of altering their habits - true martyrs to their convictions.&nbsp;
+Such races refuse to see changes in their surroundings as long as they
+can, but when compelled to recognise them, they throw up the game because
+they cannot and will not, or will not and cannot, invent.&nbsp; And
+this is perfectly intelligible, for a race is nothing but a long-lived
+individual, and like any individual, or tribe of men whom we have yet
+observed, will have its special capacities and its special limitations,
+though, as in the case of the individual, so also with the race, it
+is exceedingly hard to say what those limitations are, and why, having
+been able to go so far, it should go no further.&nbsp; Every man and
+every race is capable of education up to a certain point, but not to
+the extent of being made from a sow&rsquo;s ear into a silk purse.&nbsp;
+The proximate cause of the limitation seems to lie in the absence of
+the wish to go further; the presence or absence of the wish will depend
+upon the nature and surroundings of the individual, which is simply
+a way of saying that one can get no further, but that as the song (with
+a slight alteration) says:-</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Some breeds do, and some breeds don&rsquo;t,<br />Some breeds
+will, but this breed won&rsquo;t,<br />I tried very often to see if
+it would,<br />But it said it really couldn&rsquo;t, and I don&rsquo;t
+think it could.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>It may perhaps be maintained, that with time and patience, one might
+train a rather stupid plough-boy to understand the differential calculus.&nbsp;
+This might be done with the help of an inward desire on the part of
+the boy to learn, but never otherwise.&nbsp; If the boy wants to learn
+or to improve generally, he will do so in spite of every hindrance,
+till in time he becomes a very different being from what he was originally.&nbsp;
+If he does not want to learn, he will not do so for any wish of another
+person.&nbsp; If he feels that he has the power he will wish; or if
+he wishes, he will begin to think he has the power, and try to fulfil
+his wishes; one cannot say which comes first, for the power and the
+desire go always hand in hand, or nearly so, and the whole business
+is nothing but a most vicious circle from first to last.&nbsp; But it
+is plain that there is more to be said on behalf of such circles than
+we have been in the habit of thinking.&nbsp; Do what we will, we must
+each one of us argue in a circle of our own, from which, so long as
+we live at all, we can by no possibility escape.&nbsp; I am not sure
+whether the frank acceptation and recognition of this fact is not the
+best corrective for dogmatism that we are likely to find.</p>
+<p>We can understand that a pigeon might in the course of ages grow
+to be a peacock if there was a persistent desire on the part of the
+pigeon through all these ages to do so.&nbsp; We know very well that
+this has not probably occurred in nature, inasmuch as no pigeon is at
+all likely to wish to be very different from what it is now.&nbsp; The
+idea of being anything very different from what it now is, would be
+too wide a cross with the pigeon&rsquo;s other ideas for it to entertain
+it seriously.&nbsp; If the pigeon had never seen a peacock, it would
+not be able to conceive the idea, so as to be able to make towards it;
+if, on the other hand, it had seen one, it would not probably either
+want to become one, or think that it would be any use wanting seriously,
+even though it were to feel a passing fancy to be so gorgeously arrayed;
+it would therefore lack that faith without which no action, and with
+which, every action, is possible.</p>
+<p>That creatures have conceived the idea of making themselves like
+other creatures or objects which it was to their advantage or pleasure
+to resemble, will be believed by any one who turns to Mr. Mivart&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Genesis of Species,&rdquo; where he will find (chapter ii.) an
+account of some very showy South American butterflies, which give out
+such a strong odour that nothing will eat them, and which are hence
+mimicked both in appearance and flight by a very different kind of butterfly;
+and, again, we see that certain birds, without any particular desire
+of gain, no sooner hear any sound than they begin to mimick it, merely
+for the pleasure of mimicking; so we all enjoy to mimick, or to hear
+good mimicry, so also monkeys imitate the actions which they observe,
+from pure force of sympathy.&nbsp; To mimick, or to wish to mimick,
+is doubtless often one of the first steps towards varying in any given
+direction.&nbsp; Not less, in all probability, than a full twenty per
+cent. of all the courage and good nature now existing in the world,
+derives its origin, at no very distant date, from a desire to appear
+courageous and good-natured.&nbsp; And this suggests a work whose title
+should be &ldquo;On the Fine Arts as bearing on the Reproductive System,&rdquo;
+of which the title must suffice here.</p>
+<p>Against faith, then, and desire, all the &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo;
+in the world will not stop an am&oelig;ba from becoming an elephant,
+if a reasonable time be granted; without the faith and the desire, neither
+&ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; nor artificial breeding will be able
+to do much in the way of modifying any structure.&nbsp; When we have
+once thoroughly grasped the conception that we are all one creature,
+and that each one of us is many millions of years old, so that all the
+pigeons in the one line of an infinite number of generations are still
+one pigeon only - then we can understand that a bird, as different from
+a peacock as a pigeon is now, could yet have wandered on and on, first
+this way and then that, doing what it liked, and thought that it could
+do, till it found itself at length a peacock; but we cannot believe
+either that a bird like a pigeon should be able to apprehend any ideal
+so different from itself as a peacock, and make towards it, or that
+man, having wished to breed a bird anything like a peacock from a bird
+anything like a pigeon, would be able to succeed in accumulating accidental
+peacock-like variations till he had made the bird he was in search of,
+no matter in what number of generations; much less can we believe that
+the accumulation of small fortuitous variations by &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo;
+could succeed better.&nbsp; We can no more believe the above, than we
+can believe that a wish outside a plough-boy could turn him into a senior
+wrangler.&nbsp; The boy would prove to be too many for his teacher,
+and so would the pigeon for its breeder.</p>
+<p>I do not forget that artificial breeding has modified the original
+type of the horse and the dog, till it has at length produced the dray-horse
+and the greyhound; but in each case man has had to get use and disuse
+- that is to say, the desires of the animal itself - to help him.</p>
+<p>We are led, then, to the conclusion that all races have what for
+practical purposes may be considered as their limits, though there is
+no saying what those limits are, nor indeed why, in theory, there should
+be any limits at all, but only that there are limits in practice.&nbsp;
+Races which vary considerably must be considered as clever, but it may
+be speculative, people who commonly have a genius in some special direction,
+as perhaps for mimicry, perhaps for beauty, perhaps for music, perhaps
+for the higher mathematics, but seldom in more than one or two directions;
+while &ldquo;inflexible organisations,&rdquo; like that of the goose,
+may be considered as belonging to people with one idea, and the greater
+tendency of plants and animals to vary under domestication may be reasonably
+compared with the effects of culture and education: that is to say,
+may be referred to increased range and variety of experience or perceptions,
+which will either cause sterility, if they be too unfamiliar, so as
+to be incapable of fusion with preceding ideas, and hence to bring memory
+to a sudden fault, or will open the door for all manner of further variation
+- the new ideas having suggested new trains of thought, which a clever
+example of a clever race will be only too eager to pursue.</p>
+<p>Let us now return to M. Ribot.&nbsp; He writes (p. 14):- &ldquo;The
+duckling hatched by the hen makes straight for water.&rdquo;&nbsp; In
+what conceivable way can we account for this, except on the supposition
+that the duckling knows perfectly well what it can, and what it cannot
+do with water, owing to its recollection of what it did when it was
+still one individuality with its parents, and hence, when it was a duckling
+before?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The squirrel, before it knows anything of winter, lays up
+a store of nuts.&nbsp; A bird when hatched in a cage will, when given
+its freedom, build for itself a nest like that of its parents, out of
+the same materials, and of the same shape.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>If this is not due to memory, even an imperfect explanation of what
+else it can be due to, &ldquo;would be satisfactory.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Intelligence gropes about, tries this way and that, misses
+its object, commits mistakes, and corrects them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Yes.&nbsp; Because intelligence is of consciousness, and consciousness
+is of attention, and attention is of uncertainty, and uncertainty is
+of ignorance or want of consciousness.&nbsp; Intelligence is not yet
+thoroughly up to its business.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Instinct advances with a mechanical certainty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Why mechanical?&nbsp; Should not &ldquo;with apparent certainty&rdquo;
+suffice?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hence comes its unconscious character.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But for the word &ldquo;mechanical&rdquo; this is true, and is what
+we have been all along insisting on.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It knows nothing either of ends, or of the means of attaining
+them; it implies no comparison, judgment, or choice.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This is assumption.&nbsp; What is certain is that instinct does not
+betray signs of self-consciousness as to its own knowledge.&nbsp; It
+has dismissed reference to first principles, and is no longer under
+the law, but under the grace of a settled conviction.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All seems directed by thought.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Yes; because all <i>has been</i> in earlier existences directed by
+thought.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Without ever arriving at thought.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Because it has <i>got past thought</i>, and though &ldquo;directed
+by thought&rdquo; originally, is now travelling in exactly the opposite
+direction.&nbsp; It is not likely to reach thought again, till people
+get to know worse and worse how to do things, the oftener they practise
+them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And if this phenomenon appear strange, it must be observed
+that analogous states occur in ourselves.&nbsp; <i>All that we do from
+habit - walking, writing, or practising a mechanical act, for instance
+- all these and many other very complex acts are performed without consciousness.</i></p>
+<p>&ldquo;Instinct appears stationary.&nbsp; It does not, like intelligence,
+seem to grow and decay, to gain and to lose.&nbsp; It does not improve.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Naturally.&nbsp; For improvement can only as a general rule be looked
+for along the line of latest development, that is to say, in matters
+concerning which the creature is being still consciously exercised.&nbsp;
+Older questions are settled, and the solution must be accepted as final,
+for the question of living at all would be reduced to an absurdity,
+if everything decided upon one day was to be undecided again the next;
+as with painting or music, so with life and politics, let every man
+be fully persuaded in his own mind, for decision with wrong will be
+commonly a better policy than indecision - I had almost added with right;
+and a firm purpose with risk will be better than an infirm one with
+temporary exemption from disaster.&nbsp; Every race has made its great
+blunders, to which it has nevertheless adhered, inasmuch as the corresponding
+modification of other structures and instincts was found preferable
+to the revolution which would be caused by a radical change of structure,
+with consequent havoc among a legion of vested interests.&nbsp; Rudimentary
+organs are, as has been often said, the survivals of these interests
+- the signs of their peaceful and gradual extinction as living faiths;
+they are also instances of the difficulty of breaking through any cant
+or trick which we have long practised, and which is not sufficiently
+troublesome to make it a serious object with us to cure ourselves of
+the habit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If it does not remain perfectly invariable, at least it only
+varies within very narrow limits; and though this question has been
+warmly debated in our day, and is yet unsettled, we may yet say that
+in instinct immutability is the law, variation the exception.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This is quite as it should be.&nbsp; Genius will occasionally rise
+a little above convention, but with an old convention immutability will
+be the rule.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Such,&rdquo; continues M. Ribot, &ldquo;are the admitted characters
+of instinct.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Yes; but are they not also the admitted characters of actions that
+are due to memory?</p>
+<p>At the bottom of p. 15, M. Ribot quotes the following from Mr. Darwin:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We have reason to believe that aboriginal habits are long
+retained under domestication.&nbsp; Thus with the common ass, we see
+signs of its original desert-life in its strong dislike to cross the
+smallest stream of water, and in its pleasure in rolling in the dust.&nbsp;
+The same strong dislike to cross a stream is common to the camel which
+has been domesticated from a very early period.&nbsp; Young pigs, though
+so tame, sometimes squat when frightened, and then try to conceal themselves,
+even in an open and bare place.&nbsp; Young turkeys, and occasionally
+even young fowls, when the hen gives the danger-cry, run away and try
+to hide themselves, like young partridges or pheasants, in order that
+their mother may take flight, of which she has lost the power.&nbsp;
+The musk duck in its native country often perches and roosts on trees,
+and our domesticated musk ducks, though sluggish birds, are fond of
+perching on the tops of barns, walls, &amp;c. . . .&nbsp; We know that
+the dog, however well and regularly fed, often buries like the fox any
+superfluous food; we see him turning round and round on a carpet as
+if to trample down grass to form a bed. . . . In the delight with which
+lambs and kids crowd together and frisk upon the smallest hillock we
+see a vestige of their former alpine habits.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>What does this delightful passage go to show, if not that the young
+in all these cases must still have a latent memory of their past existences,
+which is called into an active condition as soon as the associated ideas
+present themselves?</p>
+<p>Returning to M. Ribot&rsquo;s own observations, we find he tells
+us that it usually requires three or four generations to fix the results
+of training, and to prevent a return to the instincts of the wild state.&nbsp;
+I think, however, it would not be presumptuous to suppose that if an
+animal after only three or four generations of training be restored
+to its original conditions of life, it will forget its intermediate
+training and return to its old ways, almost as readily as a London street
+Arab would forget the beneficial effects of a weeks training in a reformatory
+school, if he were then turned loose again on the streets.&nbsp; So
+if we hatch wild ducks&rsquo; eggs under a tame duck, the ducklings
+&ldquo;will have scarce left the egg-shell when they obey the instincts
+of their race and take their flight.&rdquo;&nbsp; So the colts from
+wild horses, and mongrel young between wild and domesticated horses,
+betray traces of their earlier memories.</p>
+<p>On this M. Ribot says: &ldquo;Originally man had considerable trouble
+in taming the animals which are now domesticated; and his work would
+have been in vain had not heredity&rdquo; (memory) &ldquo;come to his
+aid.&nbsp; It may be said that after man has modified a wild animal
+to his will, there goes on in its progeny a silent conflict between
+two heredities&rdquo; (memories), &ldquo;the one tending to fix the
+acquired modifications and the other to preserve the primitive instincts.&nbsp;
+The latter often get the mastery, and only after several generations
+is training sure of victory.&nbsp; But we may see that in either case
+heredity&rdquo; (memory) &ldquo;always asserts its rights.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>How marvellously is the above passage elucidated and made to fit
+in with the results of our recognised experience, by the simple substitution
+of the word &ldquo;memory&rdquo; for &ldquo;heredity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Among the higher animals&rdquo; - to continue quoting - &ldquo;which
+are possessed not only of instinct, but also of intelligence, nothing
+is more common than to see mental dispositions, which have evidently
+been acquired, so fixed by heredity, that they are confounded with instinct,
+so spontaneous and automatic do they become.&nbsp; Young pointers have
+been known to point the first time they were taken out, sometimes even
+better than dogs that had been for a long time in training.&nbsp; The
+habit of saving life is hereditary in breeds that have been brought
+up to it, as is also the shepherd dog&rsquo;s habit of moving around
+the flock and guarding it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As soon as we have grasped the notion, that instinct is only the
+epitome of past experience, revised, corrected, made perfect, and learnt
+by rote, we no longer find any desire to separate &ldquo;instinct&rdquo;
+from &ldquo;mental dispositions, which have evidently been acquired
+and fixed by heredity,&rdquo; for the simple reason that they are one
+and the same thing.</p>
+<p>A few more examples are all that my limits will allow - they abound
+on every side, and the difficulty lies only in selecting - M. Ribot
+being to hand, I will venture to lay him under still further contributions.</p>
+<p>On page 19 we find:- &ldquo;Knight has shown experimentally the truth
+of the proverb, &lsquo;a good hound is bred so,&rsquo; he took every
+care that when the pups were first taken into the field, they should
+receive no guidance from older dogs; yet the very first day, one of
+the pups stood trembling with anxiety, having his eyes fixed and all
+his muscles strained <i>at the partridges which their parents had been
+trained to point</i>.&nbsp; A spaniel belonging to a breed which had
+been trained to woodcock-shooting, knew perfectly well from the first
+how to act like an old dog, avoiding places where the ground was frozen,
+and where it was, therefore, useless to seek the game, as there was
+no scent.&nbsp; Finally, a young polecat terrier was thrown into a state
+of great excitement the first time he ever saw one of these animals,
+while a spaniel remained perfectly calm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In South America, according to Roulin, dogs belonging to a
+breed that has long been trained to the dangerous chase of the peccary,
+when taken for the first time into the woods, know the tactics to adopt
+quite as well as the old dogs, and that without any instruction.&nbsp;
+Dogs of other races, and unacquainted with the tactics, are killed at
+once, no matter how strong they may be.&nbsp; The American greyhound,
+instead of leaping at the stag, attacks him by the belly, and throws
+him over, as his ancestors had been trained to do in hunting the Indians.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thus, then, heredity transmits modification no less than natural
+instincts.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Should not this rather be - &ldquo;thus, then, we see that not only
+older and remoter habits, but habits which have been practised for a
+comparatively small number of generations, may be so deeply impressed
+on the individual that they may dwell in his memory, surviving the so-called
+change of personality which he undergoes in each successive generation&rdquo;?</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There is, however, an important difference to be noted: the
+heredity of instincts admits of no exceptions, while in that of modifications
+there are many.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It may be well doubted how far the heredity of instincts admits of
+no exceptions; on the contrary, it would seem probable that in many
+races geniuses have from time to time arisen who remembered not only
+their past experiences, as far as action and habit went, but have been
+able to rise in some degree above habit where they felt that improvement
+was possible, and who carried such improvement into further practice,
+by slightly modifying their structure in the desired direction on the
+next occasion that they had a chance of dealing with protoplasm at all.&nbsp;
+It is by these rare instances of intellectual genius (and I would add
+of moral genius, if many of the instincts and structures of plants and
+animals did not show that they had got into a region as far above morals
+- other than enlightened self-interest - as they are above articulate
+consciousness of their own aims in many other respects) - it is by these
+instances of either rare good luck or rare genius that many species
+have been, in all probability, originated or modified.&nbsp; Nevertheless
+inappreciable modification of instinct is, and ought to be, the rule.</p>
+<p>As to M. Ribot&rsquo;s assertion, that to the heredity of modifications
+there are many exceptions, I readily agree with it, and can only say
+that it is exactly what I should expect; the lesson long since learnt
+by rote, and repeated in an infinite number of generations, would be
+repeated unintelligently, and with little or no difference, save from
+a rare accidental slip, the effect of which would be the culling out
+of the bungler who was guilty of it, or from the still rarer appearance
+of an individual of real genius; while the newer lesson would be repeated
+both with more hesitation and uncertainty, and with more intelligence;
+and this is well conveyed in M. Ribot&rsquo;s next sentence, for he
+says - &ldquo;It is only when variations have been firmly rooted; when
+having become organic, they constitute a second nature, which supplants
+the first; when, like instinct, they have assumed a mechanical character,
+that they can be transmitted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>How nearly M. Ribot comes to the opinion which I myself venture to
+propound will appear from the following further quotation.&nbsp; After
+dealing with somnambulism, and saying, that if somnambulism were permanent
+and innate, it would be impossible to distinguish it from instinct,
+he continues:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Hence it is less difficult than is generally supposed, to
+conceive how intelligence may become instinct; we might even say that,
+leaving out of consideration the character of innateness, to which we
+will return, we have seen the metamorphosis take place.&nbsp; <i>There
+can then be no ground for making instinct a faculty apart, sui generis</i>,
+a phenomenon so mysterious, so strange, that usually no other explanation
+of it is offered but that of attributing it to the direct act of the
+Deity.&nbsp; This whole mistake is the result of a defective psychology
+which makes no account of the unconscious activity of the soul.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>We are tempted to add - &ldquo;and which also makes no account of
+the <i>bon&acirc;</i> <i>fide</i> character of the continued personality
+of successive generations.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But we are so accustomed,&rdquo; he continues, &ldquo;to contrast
+the characters of instinct with those of intelligence - to say that
+instinct is innate, invariable, automatic, while intelligence is something
+acquired, variable, spontaneous - that it looks at first paradoxical
+to assert that instinct and intelligence are identical.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is said that instinct is innate.&nbsp; But if, on the one
+hand, we bear in mind that many instincts are acquired, and that, according
+to a theory hereafter to be explained&rdquo; (which theory, I frankly
+confess, I never was able to get hold of), <i>&ldquo;all instincts are
+only hereditary habits</i>&rdquo; (italics mine); &ldquo;if, on the
+other hand, we observe that intelligence is in some sense held to be
+innate by all modern schools of philosophy, which agree to reject the
+theory of the <i>tabula rasa</i>&rdquo; (if there is no <i>tabula rasa</i>,
+there is continued psychological personality, or words have lost their
+meaning), &ldquo;and to accept either latent ideas, or <i>&agrave; priori</i>
+forms of thought&rdquo; (surely only a periphrasis for continued personality
+and memory) &ldquo;or pre-ordination of the nervous system and of the
+organism; <i>it will be seen that this character of innateness does
+not</i> <i>constitute an absolute distinction between instinct and intelligence</i>.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It is true that intelligence is variable, but so also is instinct,
+as we have seen.&nbsp; In winter, the Rhine beaver plasters his wall
+to windward; once he was a builder, now a burrower; once he lived in
+society, now he is solitary.&nbsp; Intelligence itself can scarcely
+be more variable . . . instinct may be modified, lost, reawakened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Although intelligence is, as a rule, conscious, it may also
+become unconscious and automatic, without losing its identity.&nbsp;
+Neither is instinct always so blind, so mechanical, as is supposed,
+for at times it is at fault.&nbsp; The wasp that has faultily trimmed
+a leaf of its paper begins again.&nbsp; The bee only gives the hexagonal
+form to its cell after many attempts and alterations.&nbsp; It is difficult
+to believe that the loftier instincts&rdquo; (and surely, then, the
+more recent instincts) &ldquo;of the higher animals are not accompanied
+<i>by at least a confused consciousness</i>.&nbsp; There is, therefore,
+no absolute distinction between instinct and intelligence; there is
+not a single characteristic which, seriously considered, remains the
+exclusive property of either.&nbsp; The contrast established between
+instinctive acts and intellectual acts is, nevertheless, perfectly true,
+but only when we compare the extremes.&nbsp; <i>As instinct rises it
+approaches intelligence - as intelligence descends it approaches instinct</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>M. Ribot and myself (if I may venture to say so) are continually
+on the verge of coming to an understanding, when, at the very moment
+that we seem most likely to do so, we fly, as it were, to opposite poles.&nbsp;
+Surely the passage last quoted should be, &ldquo;As instinct falls,&rdquo;
+<i>i.e</i>., becomes less and less certain of its ground, &ldquo;it
+approaches intelligence; as intelligence rises,&rdquo; <i>i.e</i>.,
+becomes more and more convinced of the truth and expediency of its convictions
+- &ldquo;it approaches instinct.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Enough has been said to show that the opinions which I am advancing
+are not new, but I have looked in vain for the conclusions which, it
+appears to me, M. Ribot should draw from his facts; throughout his interesting
+book I find the facts which it would seem should have guided him to
+the conclusions, and sometimes almost the conclusions themselves, but
+he never seems quite to have reached them, nor has he arranged his facts
+so that others are likely to deduce them, unless they had already arrived
+at them by another road.&nbsp; I cannot, however, sufficiently express
+my obligations to M. Ribot.</p>
+<p>I cannot refrain from bringing forward a few more instances of what
+I think must be considered by every reader as hereditary memory.&nbsp;
+Sydney Smith writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir James Hall hatched some chickens in an oven.&nbsp; Within
+a few minutes after the shell was broken, a spider was turned loose
+before this very youthful brood; the destroyer of flies had hardly proceeded
+more than a few inches, before he was descried by one of these oven-born
+chickens, and, at one peck of his bill, immediately devoured.&nbsp;
+This certainly was not imitation.&nbsp; A female goat very near delivery
+died; Galen cut out the young kid, and placed before it a bundle of
+hay, a bunch of fruit, and a pan of milk; the young kid smelt to them
+all very attentively, and then began to lap the milk.&nbsp; This was
+not imitation.&nbsp; And what is commonly and rightly called instinct,
+cannot be explained away, under the notion of its being imitation&rdquo;
+(Lecture xvii. on Moral Philosophy).</p>
+<p>It cannot, indeed, be explained away under the notion of its being
+imitation, but I think it may well be so under that of its being memory.</p>
+<p>Again, a little further on in the same lecture, as that above quoted
+from, we find:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Ants and beavers lay up magazines.&nbsp; Where do they get
+their knowledge that it will not be so easy to collect food in rainy
+weather, as it is in summer?&nbsp; Men and women know these things,
+because their grandpapas and grandmammas have told them so.&nbsp; Ants
+hatched from the egg artificially, or birds hatched in this manner,
+have all this knowledge by intuition, without the smallest communication
+with any of their relations.&nbsp; Now observe what the solitary wasp
+does; she digs several holes in the sand, in each of which she deposits
+an egg, though she certainly knows not (?) that an animal is deposited
+in that egg, and still less that this animal must be nourished with
+other animals.&nbsp; She collects a few green flies, rolls them up neatly
+in several parcels (like Bologna sausages), and stuffs one parcel into
+each hole where an egg is deposited.&nbsp; When the wasp worm is hatched,
+it finds a store of provision ready made; and what is most curious,
+the quantity allotted to each is exactly sufficient to support it, till
+it attains the period of wasphood, and can provide for itself.&nbsp;
+This instinct of the parent wasp is the more remarkable as it does not
+feed upon flesh itself.&nbsp; Here the little creature has never seen
+its parent; for by the time it is born, the parent is always eaten by
+sparrows; and yet, without the slightest education, or previous experience,
+it does everything that the parent did before it.&nbsp; Now the objectors
+to the doctrine of instinct may say what they please, but young tailors
+have no intuitive method of making pantaloons; a new-born mercer cannot
+measure diaper; nature teaches a cook&rsquo;s daughter nothing about
+sippets.&nbsp; All these things require with us seven years&rsquo; apprenticeship;
+but insects are like Moli&egrave;re&rsquo;s persons of quality - they
+know everything (as Moli&egrave;re says), without having learnt anything.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Les gens de qualit&eacute; savent tout, sans avoir rien appris.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>How completely all difficulty vanishes from the facts so pleasantly
+told in this passage when we bear in mind the true nature of personal
+identity, the ordinary working of memory, and the vanishing tendency
+of consciousness concerning what we know exceedingly well.</p>
+<p>My last instance I take from M. Ribot, who writes:- &ldquo;Gratiolet,
+in his <i>Anatomie Compar&egrave;e du Syst&egrave;me Nerveux</i>, states
+that an old piece of wolf&rsquo;s skin, with the hair all worn away,
+when set before a little dog, threw the animal into convulsions of fear
+by the slight scent attaching to it.&nbsp; The dog had never seen a
+wolf, and we can only explain this alarm by the hereditary transmission
+of certain sentiments, coupled with a certain perception of the sense
+of smell&rdquo; (&ldquo;Heredity,&rdquo; p. 43).</p>
+<p>I should prefer to say &ldquo;we can only explain the alarm by supposing
+that the smell of the wolf&rsquo;s skin&rdquo; - the sense of smell
+being, as we all know, more powerful to recall the ideas that have been
+associated with it than any other sense - &ldquo;brought up the ideas
+with which it had been associated in the dog&rsquo;s mind during many
+previous existences&rdquo; - he on smelling the wolf&rsquo;s skin remembering
+all about wolves perfectly well.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII - INSTINCTS OF NEUTER INSECTS</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>In this chapter I will consider, as briefly as possible, the strongest
+argument that I have been able to discover against the supposition that
+instinct is chiefly due to habit.&nbsp; I have said &ldquo;the strongest
+argument;&rdquo; I should have said, the only argument that struck me
+as offering on the face of it serious difficulties.</p>
+<p>Turning, then, to Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s chapter on instinct (&ldquo;Natural
+Selection,&rdquo; ed. 1876, p. 205), we find substantially much the
+same views as those taken at a later date by M. Ribot, and referred
+to in the preceding chapter.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An action, which we ourselves require experience to enable
+us to perform, when performed by an animal, more especially a very young
+one, without experience, and when performed by many animals in the same
+way without their knowing for what purpose it is performed, is usually
+said to be instinctive.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The above should strictly be, &ldquo;without their being conscious
+of their own knowledge concerning the purpose for which they act as
+they do;&rdquo; and though some may say that the two phrases come to
+the same thing, I think there is an important difference, as what I
+propose distinguishes ignorance from over-familiarity, both which states
+are alike unself-conscious, though with widely different results.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I could show,&rdquo; continues Mr. Darwin, &ldquo;that
+none of these characters are universal.&nbsp; A little dose of judgement
+or reason, as Pierre Huber expresses it, often comes into play even
+with animals low in the scale of nature.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Frederick Cuvier and several of the older metaphysicians have
+compared instinct with habit.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I would go further and would say, that instinct, in the great majority
+of cases, is habit pure and simple, contracted originally by some one
+or more individuals; practised, probably, in a consciously intelligent
+manner during many successive lives, until the habit has acquired the
+highest perfection which the circumstances admitted; and, finally, so
+deeply impressed upon the memory as to survive that effacement of minor
+impressions which generally takes place in every fresh life-wave or
+generation.</p>
+<p>I would say, that unless the identity of offspring with their parents
+be so far admitted that the children be allowed to remember the deeper
+impressions engraved on the minds of those who begot them, it is little
+less than trilling to talk, as so many writers do, about inherited habit,
+or the experience of the race, or, indeed, accumulated variations of
+instincts.</p>
+<p>When an instinct is not habit, as resulting from memory pure and
+simple, it is habit modified by some treatment, generally in the youth
+or embryonic stages of the individual, which disturbs his memory, and
+drives him on to some unusual course, inasmuch as he cannot recognise
+and remember his usual one by reason of the change now made in it.&nbsp;
+Habits and instincts, again, may be modified by any important change
+in the condition of the parents, which will then both affect the parent&rsquo;s
+sense of his own identity, and also create more or less fault, or dislocation
+of memory, in the offspring immediately behind the memory of his last
+life.&nbsp; Change of food may at times be sufficient to create a specific
+modification - that is to say, to affect all the individuals whose food
+is so changed, in one and the same way - whether as regards structure
+or habit.&nbsp; Thus we see that certain changes in food (and domicile),
+from those with which its ancestors have been familiar, will disturb
+the memory of a queen bee&rsquo;s egg, and set it at such disadvantage
+as to make it make itself into a neuter bee; but yet we find that the
+larva thus partly aborted may have its memories restored to it, if not
+already too much disturbed, and may thus return to its condition as
+a queen bee, if it only again be restored to the food and domicile,
+which its past memories can alone remember.</p>
+<p>So we see that opium, tobacco, alcohol, hasheesh, and tea produce
+certain effects upon our own structure and instincts.&nbsp; But though
+capable of modification, and of specific modification, which may in
+time become inherited, and hence resolve itself into a true instinct
+or settled question, yet I maintain that the main bulk of the instinct
+(whether as affecting structure or habits of life) will be derived from
+memory pure and simple; the individual growing up in the shape he does,
+and liking to do this or that when he is grown up, simply from recollection
+of what he did last time, and of what on the whole suited him.</p>
+<p>For it must be remembered that a drug which should destroy some one
+part at an early embryonic stage, and thus prevent it from development,
+would prevent the creature from recognising the surroundings which affected
+that part when he was last alive and unmutilated, as being the same
+as his present surroundings.&nbsp; He would be puzzled, for he would
+be viewing the position from a different standpoint.&nbsp; If any important
+item in a number of associated ideas disappears, the plot fails; and
+a great internal change is an exceedingly important item.&nbsp; Life
+and things to a creature so treated at an early embryonic stage would
+not be life and things as he last remembered them; hence he would not
+be able to do the same now as he did then; that is to say, he would
+vary both in structure and instinct; but if the creature were tolerably
+uniform to start with, and were treated in a tolerably uniform way,
+we might expect the effect produced to be much the same in all ordinary
+cases.</p>
+<p>We see, also, that any important change in treatment and surroundings,
+if not sufficient to kill, would and does tend to produce not only variability
+but sterility, as part of the same story and for the same reason - namely,
+default of memory; this default will be of every degree of intensity,
+from total failure, to a slight disturbance of memory as affecting some
+one particular organ only; that is to say, from total sterility, to
+a slight variation in an unimportant part.&nbsp; So that even <i>the
+slightest conceivable variations should be referred to changed conditions,
+external or internal, and to their disturbing effects upon the memory</i>;
+and sterility, without any apparent disease of the reproductive system,
+may be referred not so much to special delicacy or susceptibility of
+the organs of reproduction as to inability on the part of the creature
+to know where it is, and to recognise itself as the same creature which
+it has been accustomed to reproduce.</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin thinks that the comparison of habit with instinct gives
+&ldquo;an accurate notion of the frame of mind under which an instinctive
+action is performed, but not,&rdquo; he thinks, &ldquo;of its origin.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How unconsciously,&rdquo; Mr. Darwin continues, &ldquo;many
+habitual actions are performed, indeed not rarely in direct opposition
+to our conscious will!&nbsp; Yet they may be modified by the will or
+by reason.&nbsp; Habits easily become associated with other habits,
+with certain periods of time and states of body.&nbsp; When once acquired,
+they often remain constant throughout life.&nbsp; Several other points
+of resemblance between instincts and habits could be pointed out.&nbsp;
+As in repeating a well-known song, so in instincts, one action follows
+another by a sort of rhythm.&nbsp; If a person be interrupted in a song
+or in repeating anything by rote, he is generally forced to go back
+to recover the habitual train of thought; so P. Huber found it was with
+a caterpillar, which makes a very complicated hammock.&nbsp; For if
+he took a caterpillar which had completed its hammock up to, say, the
+sixth stage of construction, and put it into a hammock completed up
+only to the third stage, the caterpillar simply re-performed the fourth,
+fifth, and sixth stages of construction.&nbsp; If, however, a caterpillar
+were taken out of a hammock made up, for instance, to the third stage,
+and were put into one finished up to the sixth stage, so that much of
+its work was already done for it, far from deriving any benefit from
+this, it was much embarrassed, and in order to complete its hammock,
+seemed forced to start from the third stage, where it had left off,
+and thus tried to complete the already finished work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I see I must have unconsciously taken my first chapter from this
+passage, but it is immaterial.&nbsp; I owe Mr. Darwin much more than
+this.&nbsp; I owe it to him that I believe in evolution at all.&nbsp;
+I owe him for almost all the facts which have led me to differ from
+him, and which I feel absolutely safe in taking for granted, if he has
+advanced them.&nbsp; Nevertheless, I believe that the conclusion arrived
+at in the passage which I will next quote is a mistaken one, and that
+not a little only, but fundamentally.&nbsp; I shall therefore venture
+to dispute it.</p>
+<p>The passage runs:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If we suppose any habitual action to become inherited - and
+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. . . . <i>But it would be a serious error
+to suppose that the greater number of instincts have been acquired by
+habit in one generation, and then transmitted by inheritance to succeeding
+generations.&nbsp; 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 acquired by habit</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+(&ldquo;Origin of Species,&rdquo; p. 206, ed. 1876.)&nbsp; The italics
+in this passage are mine.</p>
+<p>No difficulty is opposed to my view (as I call it, for the sake of
+brevity) by such an instinct as that of ants to milk aphids.&nbsp; Such
+instincts may be supposed to have been acquired in much the same way
+as the instinct of a farmer to keep a cow.&nbsp; Accidental discovery
+of the fact that the excretion was good, with &ldquo;a little dose of
+judgement or reason&rdquo; from time to time appearing in an exceptionally
+clever ant, and by him communicated to his fellows, till the habit was
+so confirmed as to be capable of transmission in full unself-consciousness
+(if indeed the instinct be unself-conscious in this case), would, I
+think, explain this as readily as the slow and gradual accumulations
+of instincts which had never passed through the intelligent and self-conscious
+stage, but had always prompted action without any idea of a why or a
+wherefore on the part of the creature itself.</p>
+<p>For it must be remembered, as I am afraid I have already perhaps
+too often said, that even when we have got a slight variation of instinct,
+due to some cause which we know nothing about, but which I will not
+even for a moment call &ldquo;spontaneous&rdquo; - a word that should
+be cut out of every dictionary, or in some way branded as perhaps the
+most misleading in the language - we cannot see how it comes to be repeated
+in successive generations, so as to be capable of being acted upon by
+&ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; and accumulated, unless it be also capable
+of being remembered by the offspring of the varying creature.&nbsp;
+It may be answered that we cannot know anything about this, but that
+&ldquo;like father like son&rdquo; is an ultimate fact in nature.&nbsp;
+I can only answer that I never observe any &ldquo;like father like son&rdquo;
+without the son&rsquo;s both having had every opportunity of remembering,
+and showing every symptom of having remembered, in which case I decline
+to go further than memory (whatever memory may be) as the cause of the
+phenomenon.</p>
+<p>But besides inheritance, teaching must be admitted as a means of
+at any rate modifying an instinct.&nbsp; We observe this in our own
+case; and we know that animals have great powers of communicating their
+ideas to one another, though their manner of doing this is as incomprehensible
+by us as a plant&rsquo;s knowledge of chemistry, or the manner in which
+an am&oelig;ba makes its test, or a spider its web, without having gone
+through a long course of mathematics.&nbsp; I think most readers will
+allow that our early training and the theological systems of the last
+eighteen hundred years are likely to have made us involuntarily under-estimate
+the powers of animals low in the scale of life, both as regards intelligence
+and the power of communicating their ideas to one another; but even
+now we admit that ants have great powers in this respect.</p>
+<p>A habit, however, which is taught to the young or each successive
+generation, by older members of the community who have themselves received
+it by instruction, should surely rank as an inherited habit, and be
+considered as due to memory, though personal teaching be necessary to
+complete the inheritance.</p>
+<p>An objection suggests itself that if such a habit as the flight of
+birds, which seems to require a little personal supervision and instruction
+before it is acquired perfectly, were really due to memory, the need
+of instruction would after a time cease, inasmuch as the creature would
+remember its past method of procedure, and would thus come to need no
+more teaching.&nbsp; The answer lies in the fact, that if a creature
+gets to depend upon teaching and personal help for any matter, its memory
+will make it look for such help on each repetition of the action; so
+we see that no man&rsquo;s memory will exert itself much until he is
+thrown upon memory as his only resource.&nbsp; We may read a page of
+a book a hundred times, but we do not remember it by heart unless we
+have either cultivated our powers of learning to repeat, or have taken
+pains to learn this particular page.</p>
+<p>And whether we read from a book, or whether we repeat by heart, the
+repetition is still due to memory; only in the one case the memory is
+exerted to recall something which one saw only half a second ago, and
+in the other, to recall something not seen for a much longer period.&nbsp;
+So I imagine an instinct or habit may be called an inherited habit,
+and assigned to memory, even though the memory dates, not from the performance
+of the action by the learner when he was actually part of the personality
+of the teacher, but rather from a performance witnessed by, or explained
+by the teacher to, the pupil at a period subsequent to birth.&nbsp;
+In either case the habit is inherited in the sense of being acquired
+in one generation, and transmitted with such modifications as genius
+and experience may have suggested.</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin would probably admit this without hesitation; when, therefore,
+he says that certain instincts could not possibly have been acquired
+by habit, he must mean that they could not, under the circumstances,
+have been remembered by the pupil in the person of the teacher, and
+that it would be a serious error to suppose that the greater number
+of instincts can be thus remembered.&nbsp; To which I assent readily
+so far as that it is difficult (though not impossible) to see how some
+of the most wonderful instincts of neuter ants and bees can be due to
+the fact that the neuter ant or bee was ever in part, or in some respects,
+another neuter ant or bee in a previous generation.&nbsp; At the same
+time I maintain that this does not militate against the supposition
+that both instinct and structure are in the main due to memory.&nbsp;
+For the power of receiving any communication, and acting on it, is due
+to memory; and the neuter ant or bee may have received its lesson from
+another neuter ant or bee, who had it from another and modified it;
+and so back and back, till the foundation of the habit is reached, and
+is found to present little more than the faintest family likeness to
+its more complex descendant.&nbsp; Surely Mr. Darwin cannot mean that
+it can be shewn that the wonderful instincts of neuter ants and bees
+cannot have been acquired either, as above, by instruction, or by some
+not immediately obvious form of inherited transmission, but that they
+must be due to the fact that the ant or bee is, as it were, such and
+such a machine, of which if you touch such and such a spring, you will
+get a corresponding action.&nbsp; If he does, he will find, so far as
+I can see, no escape from a position very similar to the one which I
+put into the mouth of the first of the two professors, who dealt with
+the question of machinery in my earlier work, &ldquo;Erewhon,&rdquo;
+and which I have since found that my great namesake made fun of in the
+following lines:-</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>. . . &ldquo;They now begun<br />To spur their living engines on.<br />For
+as whipped tops and bandy&rsquo;d balls,<br />The learned hold are animals:<br />So
+horses they affirm to be<br />Mere engines made by geometry,<br />And
+were invented first from engines<br />As Indian Britons were from Penguins.&rdquo;<br /><i>&nbsp;-
+Hudibras</i>, Canto ii. line 53, &amp;c.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>I can see, then, no difficulty in the development of the ordinary
+so-called instincts, whether of ants or bees, or the cuckoo, or any
+other animal, on the supposition that they were, for the most part,
+intelligently acquired with more or less labour, as the case may be,
+in much the same way as we see any art or science now in process of
+acquisition among ourselves, but were ultimately remembered by offspring,
+or communicated to it.&nbsp; When the limits of the race&rsquo;s capacity
+had been attained (and most races seem to have their limits, unsatisfactory
+though the expression may very fairly be considered), or when the creature
+had got into a condition, so to speak, of equilibrium with its surroundings,
+there would be no new development of instincts, and the old ones would
+cease to be improved, inasmuch as there would be no more reasoning or
+difference of opinion concerning them.&nbsp; The race, therefore, or
+species would remain in <i>statu quo</i> till either domesticated, and
+so brought into contact with new ideas and placed in changed conditions,
+or put under such pressure, in a wild state, as should force it to further
+invention, or extinguish it if incapable of rising to the occasion.&nbsp;
+That instinct and structure may be acquired by practice in one or more
+generations, and remembered in succeeding ones, is admitted by Mr. Darwin,
+for he allows (&ldquo;Origin of Species,&rdquo; p. 206) that habitual
+action does sometimes become inherited, and, though he does not seem
+to conceive of such action as due to memory, yet it is inconceivable
+how it is inherited, if not as the result of memory.</p>
+<p>It must be admitted, however, that when we come to consider the structures
+as well as the instincts of some of the neuter insects, our difficulties
+seem greatly increased.&nbsp; The neuter hive-bees have a cavity in
+their thighs in which to keep the wax, which it is their business to
+collect; but the drones and queen, which alone bear offspring, collect
+no wax, and therefore neither want, nor have, any such cavity.&nbsp;
+The neuter bees are also, if I understand rightly, furnished with a
+proboscis or trunk for extracting honey from flowers, whereas the fertile
+bees, who gather no honey, have no such proboscis.&nbsp; Imagine, if
+the reader will, that the neuter bees differ still more widely from
+the fertile ones; how, then, can they in any sense be said to derive
+organs from their parents, which not one of their parents for millions
+of generations has ever had?&nbsp; How, again, can it be supposed that
+they transmit these organs to the future neuter members of the community
+when they are perfectly sterile?</p>
+<p>One can understand that the young neuter bee might be taught to make
+a hexagonal cell (though I have not found that any one has seen the
+lesson being given) inasmuch as it does not make the cell till after
+birth, and till after it has seen other neuter bees who might tell it
+much in, <i>qu&acirc;</i> us, a very little time; but we can hardly
+understand its growing a proboscis before it could possibly want it,
+or preparing a cavity in its thigh, to have it ready to put wax into,
+when none of its predecessors had ever done so, by supposing oral communication,
+during the larvahood.&nbsp; Nevertheless, it must not be forgotten that
+bees seem to know secrets about reproduction, which utterly baffle ourselves;
+for example, the queen bee appears to know how to deposit male or female,
+eggs at will; and this is a matter of almost inconceivable sociological
+importance, denoting a corresponding amount of sociological and physiological
+knowledge generally.&nbsp; It should not, then, surprise us if the race
+should possess other secrets, whose working we are unable to follow,
+or even detect at all.</p>
+<p>Sydney Smith, indeed, writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The warmest admirers of honey, and the greatest friends to
+bees, will never, I presume, contend that the young swarm, who begin
+making honey three or four months after they are born, and immediately
+construct these mathematical cells, should have gained their geometrical
+knowledge as we gain ours, and in three months&rsquo; time outstrip
+Mr. Maclaurin in mathematics as much as they did in making honey.&nbsp;
+It would take a senior wrangler at Cambridge ten hours a day for three
+years together to know enough mathematics for the calculation of these
+problems, with which not only every queen bee, but every undergraduate
+grub, is acquainted the moment it is born.&rdquo;&nbsp; This last statement
+may be a little too strong, but it will at once occur to the reader,
+that as we know the bees <i>do</i> surpass Mr. Maclaurin in the power
+of making honey, they may also surpass him in capacity for those branches
+of mathematics with which it has been their business to be conversant
+during many millions of years, and also in knowledge of physiology and
+psychology in so far as the knowledge bears upon the interests of their
+own community.</p>
+<p>We know that the larva which develops into a neuter bee, and that
+again which in time becomes a queen bee, are the same kind of larva
+to start with; and that if you give one of these larv&aelig; the food
+and treatment which all its foremothers have been accustomed to, it
+will turn out with all the structure and instincts of its foremothers
+- and that it only fails to do this because it has been fed, and otherwise
+treated, in such a manner as not one of its foremothers was ever yet
+fed or treated.&nbsp; So far, this is exactly what we should expect,
+on the view that structure and instinct are alike mainly due to memory,
+or to medicined memory.&nbsp; Give the larva a fair chance of knowing
+where it is, and it shows that it remembers by doing exactly what it
+did before.&nbsp; Give it a different kind of food and house, and it
+cannot be expected to be anything else than puzzled.&nbsp; It remembers
+a great deal.&nbsp; It comes out a bee, and nothing but a bee; but it
+is an aborted bee; it is, in fact, mutilated before birth instead of
+after - with instinct, as well as growth, correlated to its abortion,
+as we see happens frequently in the case of animals a good deal higher
+than bees that have been mutilated at a stage much later than that at
+which the abortion of neuter bees commences.</p>
+<p>The larv&aelig; being similar to start with, and being similarly
+mutilated - i.e., by change of food and dwelling, will naturally exhibit
+much similarity of instinct and structure on arriving at maturity.&nbsp;
+When driven from their usual course, they must take <i>some</i> new
+course or die.&nbsp; There is nothing strange in the fact that similar
+beings puzzled similarly should take a similar line of action.&nbsp;
+I grant, however, that it is hard to see how change of food and treatment
+can puzzle an insect into such &ldquo;complex growth&rdquo; as that
+it should make a cavity in its thigh, grow an invaluable proboscis,
+and betray a practical knowledge of difficult mathematical problems.</p>
+<p>But it must be remembered that the memory of having been queen bees
+and drones - which is all that according to my supposition the larv&aelig;
+can remember, (on a first view of the case), in their own proper persons
+- would nevertheless carry with it a potential recollection of all the
+social arrangements of the hive.&nbsp; They would thus potentially remember
+that the mass of the bees were always neuter bees; they would remember
+potentially the habits of these bees, so far as drones and queens know
+anything about them; and this may be supposed to be a very thorough
+acquaintance; in like manner, and with the same limitation, they would
+know from the very moment that they left the queen&rsquo;s body that
+neuter bees had a proboscis to gather honey with, and cavities in their
+thighs to put wax into, and that cells were to be made with certain
+angles - for surely it is not crediting the queen with more knowledge
+than she is likely to possess, if we suppose her to have a fair acquaintance
+with the phenomena of wax and cells generally, even though she does
+not make any; they would know (while still larv&aelig; - and earlier)
+the kind of cells into which neuter bees were commonly put, and the
+kind of treatment they commonly received - they might therefore, as
+eggs - immediately on finding their recollection driven from its usual
+course, so that they must either find some other course, or die - know
+that they were being treated as neuter bees are treated, and that they
+were expected to develop into neuter bees accordingly; they might know
+all this, and a great deal more into the bargain, inasmuch as even before
+being actually deposited as eggs they would know and remember potentially,
+but unconsciously, all that their parents knew and remembered intensely.&nbsp;
+Is it, then, astonishing that they should adapt themselves so readily
+to the position which they know it is for the social welfare of the
+community, and hence of themselves, that they should occupy, and that
+they should know that they will want a cavity in their thighs and a
+proboscis, and hence make such implements out of their protoplasm as
+readily as they make their wings?</p>
+<p>I admit that, under normal treatment, none of the above-mentioned
+potential memories would be kindled into such a state of activity that
+action would follow upon them, until the creature had attained a more
+or less similar condition to that in which its parent was when these
+memories were active within its mind: but the essence of the matter
+is, that these larv&aelig; have been treated <i>abnormally</i>, so that
+if they do not die, there is nothing for it but that they must vary.&nbsp;
+One cannot argue from the normal to the abnormal.&nbsp; It would not,
+then, be strange if the potential memories should (owing to the margin
+for premature or tardy development which association admits) serve to
+give the puzzled larv&aelig; a hint as to the course which they had
+better take, or that, at any rate, it should greatly supplement the
+instruction of the &ldquo;nurse&rdquo; bees themselves by rendering
+the larv&aelig; so, as it were, inflammable on this point, that a spark
+should set them in a blaze.&nbsp; Abortion is generally premature.&nbsp;
+Thus the scars referred to in the last chapter as having appeared on
+the children of men who had been correspondingly wounded, should not,
+under normal circumstances, have appeared in the offspring till the
+children had got fairly near the same condition generally as that in
+which their fathers were when they were wounded, and even then, normally,
+there should have been an instrument to wound them, much as their fathers
+had been wounded.&nbsp; Association, however, does not always stick
+to the letter of its bond.</p>
+<p>The line, again, might certainly be taken that the difference in
+structure and instincts between neuter and fertile bees is due to the
+specific effects of certain food and treatment; yet, though one would
+be sorry to set limits to the convertibility of food and genius, it
+seems hard to believe that there can be any untutored food which should
+teach a bee to make a hexagonal cell as soon as it was born, or which,
+before it was born, should teach it to prepare such structures as it
+would require in after life.&nbsp; If, then, food be considered as a
+direct agent in causing the structures and instinct, and not an indirect
+agent, merely indicating to the larva itself that it is to make itself
+after the fashion of neuter bees, then we should bear in mind that,
+at any rate, it has been leavened and prepared in the stomachs of those
+neuter bees into which the larva is now expected to develop itself,
+and may thus have in it more true germinative matter - gemmules, in
+fact - than is commonly supposed.&nbsp; Food, when sufficiently assimilated
+(the whole question turning upon what <i>is</i> &ldquo;sufficiently&rdquo;),
+becomes stored with all the experience and memories of the assimilating
+creature; corn becomes hen, and knows nothing but hen, when hen has
+eaten it.&nbsp; We know also that the neuter working-bees inject matter
+into the cell after the larva has been produced; nor would it seem harsh
+to suppose that though devoid of a reproductive system like that of
+their parents, they may yet be practically not so neuter as is commonly
+believed.&nbsp; One cannot say what gemmules of thigh and proboscis
+may not have got into the neutral bees&rsquo; stomachs, if they assimilate
+their food sufficiently, and thus into the larva.</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin will be the first to admit that though a creature have
+no reproductive system, in any ordinary sense of the word, yet every
+unit or cell of its body may throw off gemmules which may be free to
+move over every part of the whole organism, and which &ldquo;natural
+selection&rdquo; might in time cause to stray into food which had been
+sufficiently prepared in the stomachs of the neuter bees.</p>
+<p>I cannot say, then, precisely in what way, but I can see no reason
+for doubting that in some of the ways suggested above, or in some combination
+of them, the phenomena of the instincts of neuter ants and bees can
+be brought into the same category as the instincts and structure of
+fertile animals.&nbsp; At any rate, I see the great fact that when treated
+as they have been accustomed to be treated, these neuters act as though
+they remembered, and accordingly become queen bees; and that they only
+depart from their ancestral course on being treated in such fashion
+as their ancestors can never have remembered; also, that when they have
+been thrown off their accustomed line of thought and action, they only
+take that of their nurses, who have been about them from the moment
+of their being deposited as eggs by the queen bee, who have fed them
+from their own bodies, and between whom and them there may have been
+all manner of physical and mental communication, of which we know no
+more than we do of the power which enables a bee to find its way home
+after infinite shifting and turning among flowers, which no human powers
+could systematise so as to avoid confusion.</p>
+<p>Or take it thus: We know that mutilation at an early age produces
+an effect upon the structure and instincts of cattle, sheep, and horses;
+and it might be presumed that if feasible at an earlier age, it would
+produce a still more marked effect.&nbsp; We observe that the effect
+produced is uniform, or nearly so.&nbsp; Suppose mutilation to produce
+a little more effect than it does, as we might easily do, if cattle,
+sheep, and horses had been for ages accustomed to a mutilated class
+living among them, which class had been always a caste apart, and had
+fed the young neuters from their own bodies, from an early embryonic
+stage onwards; would any one in this case dream of advancing the structure
+and instincts of this mutilated class against the doctrine that instinct
+is inherited habit?&nbsp; Or, if inclined to do this, would he not at
+once refrain, on remembering that the process of mutilation might be
+arrested, and the embryo be developed into an entire animal by simply
+treating it in the way to which all its ancestors had been accustomed?&nbsp;
+Surely he would not allow the difficulty (which I must admit in some
+measure to remain) to outweigh the evidence derivable from these very
+neuter insects themselves, as well as from such a vast number of other
+sources - all pointing in the direction of instinct as inherited habit.
+<a name="citation5"></a><a href="#footnote5">{5}</a></p>
+<p>Lastly, it must be remembered that the instinct to make cells and
+honey is one which has no very great hold upon its possessors.&nbsp;
+Bees <i>can</i> make cells and honey, nor do they seem to have any very
+violent objection to doing so; but it is quite clear that there is nothing
+in their structure and instincts which urges them on to do these things
+for the mere love of doing them, as a hen is urged to sit upon a chalk
+stone, concerning which she probably is at heart utterly sceptical,
+rather than not sit at all.&nbsp; There is no honey and cell-making
+instinct so strong as the instinct to eat, if they are hungry, or to
+grow wings, and make themselves into bees at all.&nbsp; Like ourselves,
+so long as they can get plenty to eat and drink, they will do no work.&nbsp;
+Under these circumstances, not one drop of honey nor one particle of
+wax will they collect, except, I presume, to make cells for the rearing
+of their young.</p>
+<p>Sydney Smith writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The most curious instance of a change of instinct is recorded
+by Darwin.&nbsp; The bees carried over to Barbadoes and the Western
+Isles ceased to lay up any honey after the first year, as they found
+it not useful to them.&nbsp; They found the weather so fine, and materials
+for making honey so plentiful, that they quitted their grave, prudent,
+and mercantile character, became exceedingly profligate and debauched,
+ate up their capital, resolved to work no more, and amused themselves
+by flying about the sugar-houses and stinging the blacks&rdquo; (Lecture
+XVII. on Moral Philosophy).&nbsp; The ease, then, with which the honey-gathering
+and cell-making habits are relinquished, would seem to point strongly
+in the direction of their acquisition at a comparatively late period
+of development.</p>
+<p>I have dealt with bees only, and not with ants, which would perhaps
+seem to present greater difficulty, inasmuch as in some families of
+these there are two, or even three, castes of neuters with well-marked
+and wide differences of structure and instinct; but I think the reader
+will agree with me that the ants are sufficiently covered by the bees,
+and that enough, therefore, has been said already.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin
+supposes that these modifications of structure and instinct have been
+effected by the accumulation of numerous slight, profitable, spontaneous
+variations on the part of the fertile parents, which has caused them
+(so, at least, I understand him) to lay this or that particular kind
+of egg, which should develop into a kind of bee or ant, with this or
+that particular instinct, which instinct is merely a co-ordination with
+structure, and in no way attributable to use or habit in preceding generations.</p>
+<p>Even so, one cannot see that the habit of laying this particular
+kind of egg might not be due to use and memory in previous generations
+on the part of the fertile parents, &ldquo;for the numerous slight spontaneous
+variations,&rdquo; on which &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; is to work,
+must have had some cause than which none more reasonable than sense
+of need and experience presents itself; and there seems hardly any limit
+to what long-continued faith and desire, aided by intelligence, may
+be able to effect.&nbsp; But if sense of need and experience are denied,
+I see no escape from the view that machines are new species of life.</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin concludes: &ldquo;I am surprised that no one has hitherto
+advanced this demonstrative case of neuter insects against the well-known
+doctrine of inherited habit as advanced by Lamarck&rdquo; (&ldquo;Natural
+Selection,&rdquo; p. 233, ed. 1876).</p>
+<p>After reading this, one feels as though there was no more to be said.&nbsp;
+The well-known doctrine of inherited habit, as advanced by Lamarck,
+has indeed been long since so thoroughly exploded, that it is not worth
+while to go into an explanation of what it was, or to refute it in detail.&nbsp;
+Here, however, is an argument against it, which is so much better than
+anything advanced yet, that one is surprised it has never been made
+use of; so we will just advance it, as it were, to slay the slain, and
+pass on.&nbsp; Such, at least, is the effect which the paragraph above
+quoted produced upon myself, and would, I think, produce on the great
+majority of readers.&nbsp; When driven by the exigencies of my own position
+to examine the value of the demonstration more closely, I conclude,
+either that I have utterly failed to grasp Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s meaning,
+or that I have no less completely mistaken the value and bearing of
+the facts I have myself advanced in these few last pages.&nbsp; Failing
+this, my surprise is, not that &ldquo;no one has hitherto advanced&rdquo;
+the instincts of neuter insects as a demonstrative case against the
+doctrine of inherited habit, but rather that Mr. Darwin should have
+thought the case demonstrative; or again, when I remember that the neuter
+working bee is only an aborted queen, and may be turned back again into
+a queen, by giving it such treatment as it can alone be expected to
+remember - then I am surprised that the structure and instincts of neuter
+bees has never (if never) been brought forward in support of the doctrine
+of inherited habit as advanced by Lamarck, and against any theory which
+would rob such instincts of their foundation in intelligence, and of
+their connection with experience and memory.</p>
+<p>As for the instinct to mutilate, that is as easily accounted for
+as any other inherited habit, whether of man to mutilate cattle, or
+of ants to make slaves, or of birds to make their nests.&nbsp; I can
+see no way of accounting for the existence of any one of these instincts,
+except on the supposition that they have arisen gradually, through perceptions
+of power and need on the part of the animal which exhibits them - these
+two perceptions advancing hand in hand from generation to generation,
+and being accumulated in time and in the common course of nature.</p>
+<p>I have already sufficiently guarded against being supposed to maintain
+that very long before an instinct or structure was developed, the creature
+descried it in the far future, and made towards it.&nbsp; We do not
+observe this to be the manner of human progress.&nbsp; Our mechanical
+inventions, which, as I ventured to say in &ldquo;Erewhon,&rdquo; through
+the mouth of the second professor, are really nothing but extra-corporaneous
+limbs - a wooden leg being nothing but a bad kind of flesh leg, and
+a flesh leg being only a much better kind of wooden leg than any creature
+could be expected to manufacture introspectively and consciously - our
+mechanical inventions have almost invariably grown up from small beginnings,
+and without any very distant foresight on the part of the inventors.&nbsp;
+When Watt perfected the steam engine, he did not, it seems, foresee
+the locomotive, much less would any one expect a savage to invent a
+steam engine.&nbsp; A child breathes automatically, because it has learnt
+to breathe little by little, and has now breathed for an incalculable
+length of time; but it cannot open oysters at all, nor even conceive
+the idea of opening oysters for two or three years after it is born,
+for the simple reason that this lesson is one which it is only beginning
+to learn.&nbsp; All I maintain is, that, give a child as many generations
+of practice in opening oysters as it has had in breathing or sucking,
+and it would on being born, turn to the oyster-knife no less naturally
+than to the breast.&nbsp; We observe that among certain families of
+men there has been a tendency to vary in the direction of the use and
+development of machinery; and that in a certain still smaller number
+of families, there seems to be an almost infinitely great capacity for
+varying and inventing still further, whether socially or mechanically;
+while other families, and perhaps the greater number, reach a certain
+point and stop; but we also observe that not even the most inventive
+races ever see very far ahead.&nbsp; I suppose the progress of plants
+and animals to be exactly analogous to this.</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin has always maintained that the effects of use and disuse
+are highly important in the development of structure, and if, as he
+has said, habits are sometimes inherited - then they should sometimes
+be important also in the development of instinct, or habit.&nbsp; But
+what does the development of an instinct or structure, or, indeed, any
+effect upon the organism produced by &ldquo;use and disuse,&rdquo; imply?&nbsp;
+It implies an effect produced by a desire to do something for which
+the organism was not originally well adapted or sufficient, but for
+which it has come to be sufficient in consequence of the desire.&nbsp;
+The wish has been father to the power; but this again opens up the whole
+theory of Lamarck, that the development of organs has been due to the
+wants or desires of the animal in which the organ appears.&nbsp; So
+far as I can see, I am insisting on little more than this.</p>
+<p>Once grant that a blacksmith&rsquo;s arm grows thicker through hammering
+iron, and you have an organ modified in accordance with a need or wish.&nbsp;
+Let the desire and the practice be remembered, and go on for long enough,
+and the slight alterations of the organ will be accumulated, until they
+are checked either by the creature&rsquo;s having got all that he cares
+about making serious further effort to obtain, or until his wants prove
+inconvenient to other creatures that are stronger than he, and he is
+hence brought to a standstill.&nbsp; Use and disuse, then, with me,
+and, as I gather also, with Lamarck, are the keys to the position, coupled,
+of course, with continued personality and memory.&nbsp; No sudden and
+striking changes would be effected, except that occasionally a blunder
+might prove a happy accident, as happens not unfrequently with painters,
+musicians, chemists, and inventors at the present day; or sometimes
+a creature, with exceptional powers of memory or reflection, would make
+his appearance in this race or in that.&nbsp; We all profit by our accidents
+as well as by our more cunning contrivances, so that analogy would point
+in the direction of thinking that many of the most happy thoughts in
+the animal and vegetable kingdom were originated much as certain discoveries
+that have been made by accident among ourselves.&nbsp; These would be
+originally blind variations, though even so, probably less blind than
+we think, if we could know the whole truth.&nbsp; When originated, they
+would be eagerly taken advantage of and improved upon by the animal
+in whom they appeared; but it cannot be supposed that they would be
+very far in advance of the last step gained, more than are those &ldquo;flukes&rdquo;
+which sometimes enable us to go so far beyond our own ordinary powers.&nbsp;
+For if they were, the animal would despair of repeating them.&nbsp;
+No creature hopes, or even wishes, for very much more than he has been
+accustomed to all his life, he and his family, and the others whom he
+can understand, around him.&nbsp; It has been well said that &ldquo;enough&rdquo;
+is always &ldquo;a little more than one has.&rdquo;&nbsp; We do not
+try for things which we believe to be beyond our reach, hence one would
+expect that the fortunes, as it were, of animals should have been built
+up gradually.&nbsp; Our own riches grow with our desires and the pains
+we take in pursuit of them, and our desires vary and increase with our
+means of gratifying them; but unless with men of exceptional business
+aptitude, wealth grows gradually by the adding field to field and farm
+to farm; so with the limbs and instincts of animals; these are but the
+things they have made or bought with their money, or with money that
+has been left them by their forefathers, which, though it is neither
+silver nor gold, but faith and protoplasm only, is good money and capital
+notwithstanding.</p>
+<p>I have already admitted that instinct may be modified by food or
+drugs, which may affect a structure or habit as powerfully as we see
+certain poisons affect the structure of plants by producing, as Mr.
+Darwin tells us, very complex galls upon their leaves.&nbsp; I do not,
+therefore, for a moment insist on habit as the sole cause of instinct.&nbsp;
+Every habit must have had its originating cause, and the causes which
+have started one habit will from time to time start or modify others;
+nor can I explain why some individuals of a race should be cleverer
+than others, any more than I can explain why they should exist at all;
+nevertheless, I observe it to be a fact that differences in intelligence
+and power of growth are universal in the individuals of all those races
+which we can best watch.&nbsp; I also most readily admit that the common
+course of nature would both cause many variations to arise independently
+of any desire on the part of the animal (much as we have lately seen
+that the moons of Mars were on the point of being discovered three hundred
+years ago, merely through Galileo sending to Kepler a Latin anagram
+which Kepler could not understand, and arranged into the line - &ldquo;<i>Salve
+umbistineum geminatum Martia prolem</i>,&rdquo; and interpreted to mean
+that Mars had two moons, whereas Galileo had meant to say &ldquo;<i>Altissimum
+planetam tergeminum observavi</i>,&rdquo; meaning that he had seen Saturn&rsquo;s
+ring), and would also preserve and accumulate such variations when they
+had arisen; but I can no more believe that the wonderful adaptation
+of structures to needs, which we see around us in such an infinite number
+of plants and animals, can have arisen without a perception of those
+needs on the part of the creature in whom the structure appears, than
+I can believe that the form of the dray-horse or greyhound - so well
+adapted both to the needs of the animal in his daily service to man,
+and to the desires of man, that the creature should do him this daily
+service - can have arisen without any desire on man&rsquo;s part to
+produce this particular structure, or without the inherited habit of
+performing the corresponding actions for man, on the part of the greyhound
+and dray-horse.</p>
+<p>And I believe that this will be felt as reasonable by the great majority
+of my readers.&nbsp; I believe that nine fairly intelligent and observant
+men out of ten, if they were asked which they thought most likely to
+have been the main cause of the development of the various phases either
+of structure or instinct which we see around us, namely - sense of need,
+or even whim, and hence occasional discovery, helped by an occasional
+piece of good luck, communicated, it may be, and generally adopted,
+long practised, remembered by offspring, modified by changed surroundings,
+and accumulated in the course of time - or, the accumulation of small
+divergent, indefinite, and perfectly unintelligent variations, preserved
+through the survival of their possessor in the struggle for existence,
+and hence in time leading to wide differences from the original type
+- would answer in favour of the former alternative; and if for no other
+cause yet for this - that in the human race, which we are best able
+to watch, and between which and the lower animals no difference in kind
+will, I think, be supposed, but only in degree, we observe that progress
+must have an internal current setting in a definite direction, but whither
+we know not for very long beforehand; and that without such internal
+current there is stagnation.&nbsp; Our own progress - or variation -
+is due not to small, fortuitous inventions or modifications which have
+enabled their fortunate possessors to survive in times of difficulty,
+not, in fact, to strokes of luck (though these, of course, have had
+some effect - but not more, probably, than strokes of ill luck have
+counteracted) but to strokes of cunning - to a sense of need, and to
+study of the past and present which have given shrewd people a key with
+which to unlock the chambers of the future.</p>
+<p>Further, Mr. Darwin himself says (&ldquo;Plants and Animals under
+Domestication,&rdquo; ii. p. 237, ed. 1875):-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But I think we must take a broader view and conclude that
+organic beings when subjected during several generations to any change
+whatever in their conditions tend to vary: <i>the kind of variation
+which ensues depending in most cases in a far higher degree on the nature
+or constitution of the being, than on the nature of the changed conditions</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+And this we observe in man.&nbsp; The history of a man prior to his
+birth is more important as far as his success or failure goes than his
+surroundings after birth, important though these may indeed be.&nbsp;
+The able man rises in spite of a thousand hindrances, the fool fails
+in spite of every advantage.&nbsp; &ldquo;Natural selection,&rdquo;
+however, does not make either the able man or the fool.&nbsp; It only
+deals with him after other causes have made him, and would seem in the
+end to amount to little more than to a statement of the fact that when
+variations have arisen they will accumulate.&nbsp; One cannot look,
+as has already been said, for the origin of species in that part of
+the course of nature which settles the preservation or extinction of
+variations which have already arisen from some unknown cause, but one
+must look for it in the causes that have led to variation at all.&nbsp;
+These causes must get, as it were, behind the back of &ldquo;natural
+selection,&rdquo; which is rather a shield and hindrance to our perception
+of our own ignorance than an explanation of what these causes are.</p>
+<p>The remarks made above will apply equally to plants such as the misletoe
+and red clover.&nbsp; For the sake of brevity I will deal only with
+the misletoe, which seems to be the more striking case.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin
+writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Naturalists continually refer to external conditions, such
+as climate, food, &amp;c., as the only possible cause of variation.&nbsp;
+In one limited sense, as we shall hereafter see, this may be true; but
+it is preposterous to attribute to mere external conditions, the structure,
+for instance, of the woodpecker, with its feet, tail, beak, and tongue,
+so admirably adapted to catch insects under the bark of trees.&nbsp;
+In the case of the misletoe, which draws its nourishment from certain
+trees, which has seeds that must be transported by certain birds, and
+which has flowers with separate sexes absolutely requiring the agency
+of certain insects to bring pollen from one flower to another, it is
+equally preposterous to account for the structure of this parasite with
+its relations to several distinct organic beings, by the effect of external
+conditions, or of habit, or of the volition of the plant itself&rdquo;
+(&ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo; p. 3, ed. 1876).</p>
+<p>I cannot see this.&nbsp; To me it seems still more preposterous to
+account for it by the action of &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; operating
+upon indefinite variations.&nbsp; It would be preposterous to suppose
+that a bird very different from a woodpecker should have had a conception
+of a woodpecker, and so by volition gradually grown towards it.&nbsp;
+So in like manner with the misletoe.&nbsp; Neither plant nor bird knew
+how far they were going, or saw more than a very little ahead as to
+the means of remedying this or that with which they were dissatisfied,
+or of getting this or that which they desired; but given perceptions
+at all, and thus a sense of needs and of the gratification of those
+needs, and thus hope and fear, and a sense of content and discontent
+- given also the lowest power of gratifying those needs - given also
+that some individuals have these powers in a higher degree than others
+- given also continued personality and memory over a vast extent of
+time - and the whole phenomena of species and genera resolve themselves
+into an illustration of the old proverb, that what is one man&rsquo;s
+meat is another man&rsquo;s poison.&nbsp; Life in its lowest form under
+the above conditions - and we cannot conceive of life at all without
+them - would be bound to vary, and to result after not so very many
+millions of years in the infinite forms and instincts which we see around
+us.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII - LAMARCK AND MR. DARWIN</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>It will have been seen that in the preceding pages the theory of
+evolution, as originally propounded by Lamarck, has been more than once
+supported, as against the later theory concerning it put forward by
+Mr. Darwin, and now generally accepted.</p>
+<p>It is not possible for me, within the limits at my command, to do
+anything like justice to the arguments that may be brought forward in
+favour of either of these two theories.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s books
+are at the command of every one; and so much has been discovered since
+Lamarck&rsquo;s day, that if he were living now, he would probably state
+his case very differently; I shall therefore content myself with a few
+brief remarks, which will hardly, however, aspire to the dignity of
+argument.</p>
+<p>According to Mr. Darwin, differentiations of structure and instinct
+have mainly come about through the accumulation of small, fortuitous
+variations without intelligence or desire upon the part of the creature
+varying; modification, however, through desire and sense of need, is
+not denied entirely, inasmuch as considerable effect is ascribed by
+Mr. Darwin to use and disuse, which involves, as has been already said,
+the modification of a structure in accordance with the wishes of its
+possessor.</p>
+<p>According to Lamarck, genera and species have been evolved, in the
+main, by exactly the same process as that by which human inventions
+and civilisations are now progressing; and this involves that intelligence,
+ingenuity, heroism, and all the elements of romance, should have had
+the main share in the development of every herb and living creature
+around us.</p>
+<p>I take the following brief outline of the most important part of
+Lamarck&rsquo;s theory from vol. xxxvi. of the Naturalist&rsquo;s Library
+(Edinburgh, 1843):-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The more simple bodies,&rdquo; says the editor, giving Lamarck&rsquo;s
+opinion without endorsing it, &ldquo;are easily formed, and this being
+the case, it is easy to conceive how in the lapse of time animals of
+a more complex structure should be produced, <i>for it must be admitted
+as a fundamental law, that the production of a new organ in an animal
+body results from any new want or desire it may experience</i>.&nbsp;
+The first effort of a being just beginning to develop itself must be
+to procure subsistence, and hence in time there comes to be produced
+a stomach or alimentary cavity.&rdquo;&nbsp; (Thus we saw that the am&oelig;ba
+is in the habit of &ldquo;extemporising&rdquo; a stomach when it wants
+one.)&nbsp; &ldquo;Other wants occasioned by circumstances will lead
+to other efforts, which in their turn will generate new organs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lamarck&rsquo;s wonderful conception was hampered by an unnecessary
+adjunct, namely, a belief in an inherent tendency towards progressive
+development in every low organism.&nbsp; He was thus driven to account
+for the presence of many very low and very ancient organisms at the
+present day, and fell back upon the theory, which is not yet supported
+by evidence, that such low forms are still continually coming into existence
+from inorganic matter.&nbsp; But there seems no necessity to suppose
+that all low forms should possess an inherent tendency towards progression.&nbsp;
+It would be enough that there should occasionally arise somewhat more
+gifted specimens of one or more original forms.&nbsp; These would vary,
+and the ball would be thus set rolling, while the less gifted would
+remain <i>in statu quo</i>, provided they were sufficiently gifted to
+escape extinction.</p>
+<p>Nor do I gather that Lamarck insisted on continued personality and
+memory so as to account for heredity at all, and so as to see life as
+a single, or as at any rate, only a few, vast compound animals, but
+without the connecting organism between each component item in the whole
+creature, which is found in animals that are strictly called compound.&nbsp;
+Until continued personality and memory are connected with the idea of
+heredity, heredity of any kind is little more than a term for something
+which one does not understand.&nbsp; But there seems little <i>&agrave;
+priori</i> difficulty as regards Lamarck&rsquo;s main idea, now that
+Mr. Darwin has familiarised us with evolution, and made us feel what
+a vast array of facts can be brought forward in support of it.</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin tells us, in the preface to his last edition of the &ldquo;Origin
+of Species,&rdquo; that Lamarck was partly led to his conclusions by
+the analogy of domestic productions.&nbsp; It is rather hard to say
+what these words imply; they may mean anything from a baby to an apple
+dumpling, but if they imply that Lamarck drew inspirations from the
+gradual development of the mechanical inventions of man, and from the
+progress of man&rsquo;s ideas, I would say that of all sources this
+would seem to be the safest and most fertile from which to draw.</p>
+<p>Plants and animals under domestication are indeed a suggestive field
+for study, but machines are the manner in which man is varying at this
+moment.&nbsp; We know how our own minds work, and how our mechanical
+organisations - for, in all sober seriousness, this is what it comes
+to - have progressed hand in hand with our desires; sometimes the power
+a little ahead, and sometimes the desire; sometimes both combining to
+form an organ with almost infinite capacity for variation, and sometimes
+comparatively early reaching the limit of utmost development in respect
+of any new conception, and accordingly coming to a full stop; sometimes
+making leaps and bounds, and sometimes advancing sluggishly.&nbsp; Here
+we are behind the scenes, and can see how the whole thing works.&nbsp;
+We have man, the very animal which we can best understand, caught in
+the very act of variation, through his own needs, and not through the
+needs of others; the whole process is a natural one; the varying of
+a creature as much in a wild state as the ants and butterflies are wild.&nbsp;
+There is less occasion here for the continual &ldquo;might be&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;may be,&rdquo; which we are compelled to put up with when
+dealing with plants and animals, of the workings of whose minds we can
+only obscurely judge.&nbsp; Also, there is more prospect of pecuniary
+profit attaching to the careful study of machinery than can be generally
+hoped for from the study of the lower animals; and though I admit that
+this consideration should not be carried too far, a great deal of very
+unnecessary suffering will be spared to the lower animals; for much
+that passes for natural history is little better than prying into other
+people&rsquo;s business, from no other motive than curiosity.&nbsp;
+I would, therefore, strongly advise the reader to use man, and the present
+races of man, and the growing inventions and conceptions of man, as
+his guide, if he would seek to form an independent judgement on the
+development of organic life.&nbsp; For all growth is only somebody making
+something.</p>
+<p>Lamarck&rsquo;s theories fell into disrepute, partly because they
+were too startling to be capable of ready fusion with existing ideas;
+they were, in fact, too wide a cross for fertility; partly because they
+fell upon evil times, during the reaction that followed the French Revolution;
+partly because, unless I am mistaken, he did not sufficiently link on
+the experience of the race to that of the individual, nor perceive the
+importance of the principle that consciousness, memory, volition, intelligence,
+&amp;c., vanish, or become latent, on becoming intense.&nbsp; He also
+appears to have mixed up matter with his system, which was either plainly
+wrong, or so incapable of proof as to enable people to laugh at him,
+and pooh-pooh him; but I believe it will come to be perceived, that
+he has received somewhat scant justice at the hands of his successors,
+and that his &ldquo;crude theories,&rdquo; as they have been somewhat
+cheaply called, are far from having had their last say.</p>
+<p>Returning to Mr. Darwin, we find, as we have already seen, that it
+is hard to say exactly how much Mr. Darwin differs from Lamarck, and
+how much he agrees with him.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin has always maintained
+that use and disuse are highly important, and this implies that the
+effect produced on the parent should be remembered by the offspring,
+in the same way as the memory of a wound is transmitted by one set of
+cells to succeeding ones, who long repeat the scar, though it may fade
+finally away.&nbsp; Also, after dealing with the manner in which one
+eye of a young flat-fish travels round the head till both eyes are on
+the same side of the fish, he gives (&ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo;
+p. 188, ed. 1875) an instance of a structure &ldquo;which apparently
+owes its origin exclusively to use or habit.&rdquo;&nbsp; He refers
+to the tail of some American monkeys &ldquo;which has been converted
+into a wonderfully perfect prehensile organ, and serves as a fifth hand.&nbsp;
+A reviewer,&rdquo; he continues, . . .&nbsp; &ldquo;remarks on this
+structure - &lsquo;It is impossible to believe that in any number of
+ages the first slight incipient tendency to grasp, could preserve the
+lives of the individuals possessing it, or favour their chance of having
+and of rearing offspring.&rsquo;&nbsp; But there is no necessity for
+any such belief.&nbsp; Habit, and this almost implies that some benefit,
+great or small, is thus derived, would in all probability suffice for
+the work.&rdquo;&nbsp; If, then, habit can do this - and it is no small
+thing to develop a wonderfully perfect prehensile organ which can serve
+as a fifth hand - how much more may not habit do, even though unaided,
+as Mr. Darwin supposes to have been the case in this instance, by &ldquo;natural
+selection&rdquo;?&nbsp; After attributing many of the structural and
+instinctive differences of plants and animals to the effects of use
+- as we may plainly do with Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s own consent - after attributing
+a good deal more to unknown causes, and a good deal to changed conditions,
+which are bound, if at all important, to result either in sterility
+or variation - how much of the work of originating species is left for
+natural selection? - which, as Mr. Darwin admits (&ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo;
+p. 63, ed. 1876), does not <i>induce variability</i>, but &ldquo;implies
+only the preservation of <i>such variations as arise</i>, and are beneficial
+to the being under its conditions of life?&rdquo;&nbsp; An important
+part assuredly, and one which we can never sufficiently thank Mr. Darwin
+for having put so forcibly before us, but an indirect part only, like
+the part played by time and space, and not, I think, the one which Mr.
+Darwin would assign to it.</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin himself has admitted that in the earlier editions of his
+&ldquo;Origin of Species&rdquo; he &ldquo;underrated, as it now seems
+probable, the frequency and importance of modifications due to spontaneous
+variability.&rdquo;&nbsp; And this involves the having over-rated the
+action of &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; as an agent in the evolution
+of species.&nbsp; But one gathers that he still believes the accumulation
+of small and fortuitous variations through the agency of &ldquo;natural
+selection&rdquo; to be the main cause of the present divergencies of
+structure and instinct.&nbsp; I do not, however, think that Mr. Darwin
+is clear about his own meaning.&nbsp; I think the prominence given to
+&ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; in connection with the &ldquo;origin
+of species&rdquo; has led him, in spite of himself, and in spite of
+his being on his guard (as is clearly shown by the paragraph on page
+63 &ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo; above referred to), to regard &ldquo;natural
+selection&rdquo; as in some way accounting for variation, just as the
+use of the dangerous word &ldquo;spontaneous,&rdquo; - though he is
+so often on his guard against it, and so frequently prefaces it with
+the words &ldquo;so-called,&rdquo; - would seem to have led him into
+very serious confusion of thought in the passage quoted at the beginning
+of this paragraph.</p>
+<p>For after saying that he had underrated &ldquo;the frequency and
+importance of modifications due to spontaneous variability,&rdquo; he
+continues, &ldquo;but it is impossible to attribute to this cause the
+innumerable structures which are so well adapted to the habits of life
+of each species.&rdquo;&nbsp; That is to say, it is impossible to attribute
+these innumerable structures to spontaneous variability.</p>
+<p>What <i>is</i> spontaneous variability?</p>
+<p>Clearly, from his preceding paragraph, Mr. Darwin means only &ldquo;so-called
+spontaneous variations,&rdquo; such as &ldquo;the appearance of a moss-rose
+on a common rose, or of a nectarine on a peach-tree,&rdquo; which he
+gives as good examples of so-called spontaneous variation.</p>
+<p>And these variations are, after all, due to causes, but to unknown
+causes; spontaneous variation being, in fact, but another name for variation
+due to causes which we know nothing about, but in no possible sense
+a <i>cause of variation</i>.&nbsp; So that when we come to put clearly
+before our minds exactly what the sentence we are considering amounts
+to, it comes to this: that it is impossible to attribute the innumerable
+structures which are so well adapted to the habits of life of each species
+to <i>unknown causes.</i></p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can no more believe in <i>this</i>,&rdquo; continues Mr.
+Darwin, &ldquo;than that the well-adapted form of a race-horse or greyhound,
+which, before the principle of selection by man was well understood,
+excited so much surprise in the minds of the older naturalists, can
+<i>thus</i> be explained&rdquo; (&ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo; p.
+171, ed. 1876).</p>
+<p>Or, in other words, &ldquo;I can no more believe that the well-adapted
+structures of species are due to unknown causes, than I can believe
+that the well-adapted form of a race-horse can be explained by being
+attributed to unknown causes.</p>
+<p>I have puzzled over this paragraph for several hours with the sincerest
+desire to get at the precise idea which underlies it, but the more I
+have studied it the more convinced I am that it does not contain, or
+at any rate convey, any clear or definite idea at all.&nbsp; If I thought
+it was a mere slip, I should not call attention to it; this book will
+probably have slips enough of its own without introducing those of a
+great man unnecessarily; but I submit that it is necessary to call attention
+to it here, inasmuch as it is impossible to believe that after years
+of reflection upon his subject, Mr. Darwin should have written as above,
+especially in such a place, if his mind was really clear about his own
+position.&nbsp; Immediately after the admission of a certain amount
+of miscalculation, there comes a more or less exculpatory sentence which
+sounds so right that ninety-nine people out of a hundred would walk
+through it, unless led by some exigency of their own position to examine
+it closely but which yet upon examination proves to be as nearly meaningless
+as a sentence can be.</p>
+<p>The weak point in Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s theory would seem to be a deficiency,
+so to speak, of motive power to originate and direct the variations
+which time is to accumulate.&nbsp; It deals admirably with the accumulation
+of variations in creatures already varying, but it does not provide
+a sufficient number of sufficiently important variations to be accumulated.&nbsp;
+Given the motive power which Lamarck suggested, and Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s
+mechanism would appear (with the help of memory, as bearing upon reproduction,
+of continued personality, and hence of inherited habit, and of the vanishing
+tendency of consciousness) to work with perfect ease.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin
+has made us all feel that in some way or other variations <i>are accumulated</i>,
+and that evolution is the true solution of the present widely different
+structures around us, whereas, before he wrote, hardly any one believed
+this.&nbsp; However we may differ from him in detail, the present general
+acceptance of evolution must remain as his work, and a more valuable
+work can hardly be imagined.&nbsp; Nevertheless, I cannot think that
+&ldquo;natural selection,&rdquo; working upon small, fortuitous, indefinite,
+unintelligent variations, would produce the results we see around us.&nbsp;
+One wants something that will give a more definite aim to variations,
+and hence, at times, cause bolder leaps in advance.&nbsp; One cannot
+but doubt whether so many plants and animals would be being so continually
+saved &ldquo;by the skin of their teeth,&rdquo; as must be so saved
+if the variations from which genera ultimately arise are as small in
+their commencement and at each successive stage as Mr. Darwin seems
+to believe.&nbsp; God - to use the language of the Bible - is not extreme
+to mark what is done amiss, whether with plant or beast or man; on the
+other hand, when towers of Siloam fall, they fall on the just as well
+as the unjust.</p>
+<p>One feels, on considering Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s position, that if it
+be admitted that there is in the lowest creature a power to vary, no
+matter how small, one has got in this power as near the &ldquo;origin
+of species&rdquo; as one can ever hope to get.&nbsp; For no one professes
+to account for the origin of life; but if a creature with a power to
+vary reproduces itself at all, it must reproduce another creature <i>which
+shall also have the power to vary</i>; so that, given time and space
+enough, there is no knowing where such a creature could or would stop.</p>
+<p>If the primordial cell had been only capable of reproducing itself
+once, there would have followed a single line of descendants, the chain
+of which might at any moment have been broken by casualty.&nbsp; Doubtless
+the millionth repetition would have differed very materially from the
+original - as widely, perhaps, as we differ from the primordial cell;
+but it would only have differed by addition, and could no more in any
+generation resume its latest development without having passed through
+the initial stage of being what its first forefather was, and doing
+what its first forefather did, and without going through all or a sufficient
+number of the steps whereby it had reached its latest differentiation,
+than water can rise above its own level.</p>
+<p>The very idea, then, of reproduction involves, unless I am mistaken,
+that, no matter how much the creature reproducing itself may gain in
+power and versatility, it must still always begin <i>with itself again</i>
+in each generation.&nbsp; The primordial cell being capable of reproducing
+itself not only once, but many times over, each of the creatures which
+it produces must be similarly gifted; hence the geometrical ratio of
+increase and the existing divergence of type.&nbsp; In each generation
+it will pass rapidly and unconsciously through all the earlier stages
+of which there has been infinite experience, and for which the conditions
+are reproduced with sufficient similarity to cause no failure of memory
+or hesitation; but in each generation, when it comes to the part in
+which the course is not so clear, it will become conscious; still, however,
+where the course is plain, as in breathing, digesting, &amp;c., retaining
+unconsciousness.&nbsp; Thus organs which present all the appearance
+of being designed - as, for example, the tip for its beak prepared by
+the embryo chicken - would be prepared in the end, as it were, by rote,
+and without sense of design, though none the less owing their origin
+to design.</p>
+<p>The question is not concerning evolution, but as to the main cause
+which has led to evolution in such and such shapes.&nbsp; To me it seems
+that the &ldquo;Origin of Variation,&rdquo; whatever it is, is the only
+true &ldquo;Origin of Species,&rdquo; and that this must, as Lamarck
+insisted, be looked for in the needs and experiences of the creatures
+varying.&nbsp; Unless we can explain the origin of variations, we are
+met by the unexplained <i>at every step</i> in the progress of a creature
+from its original homogeneous condition to its differentiation, we will
+say, as an elephant; so that to say that an elephant has become an elephant
+through the accumulation of a vast number of small, fortuitous, but
+unexplained, variations in some lower creatures, is really to say that
+it has become an elephant owing to a series of causes about which we
+know nothing whatever, or, in other words, that one does not know how
+it came to be an elephant.&nbsp; But to say that an elephant has become
+an elephant owing to a series of variations, nine-tenths of which were
+caused by the wishes of the creature or creatures from which the elephant
+is descended - this is to offer a reason, and definitely put the insoluble
+one step further back.&nbsp; The question will then turn upon the sufficiency
+of the reason - that is to say, whether the hypothesis is borne out
+by facts.</p>
+<p>The effects of competition would, of course, have an extremely important
+effect upon any creature, in the same way as any other condition of
+nature under which it lived, must affect its sense of need and its opinions
+generally.&nbsp; The results of competition would be, as it were, the
+decisions of an arbiter settling the question whether such and such
+variation was really to the animal&rsquo;s advantage or not - a matter
+on which the animal will, on the whole, have formed a pretty fair judgement
+for itself.&nbsp; <i>Undoubtedly the past decisions of such an arbiter
+would affect the conduct of the creature</i>, which would have doubtless
+had its shortcomings and blunders, and would amend them.&nbsp; The creature
+would shape its course according to its experience of the common course
+of events, but it would be continually trying and often successfully,
+to evade the law by all manner of sharp practice.&nbsp; New precedents
+would thus arise, so that the law would shift with time and circumstances;
+but the law would not otherwise direct the channels into which life
+would flow, than as laws, whether natural or artificial, have affected
+the development of the widely differing trades and professions among
+mankind.&nbsp; These have had their origin rather in the needs and experiences
+of mankind than in any laws.</p>
+<p>To put much the same as the above in different words.&nbsp; Assume
+that small favourable variations are preserved more commonly, in proportion
+to their numbers, than is perhaps the case, and assume that considerable
+variations occur more rarely than they probably do occur, how account
+for any variation at all?&nbsp; &ldquo;Natural selection&rdquo; cannot
+<i>create</i> the smallest variation unless it acts through perception
+of its mode of operation, recognised inarticulately, but none the less
+clearly, by the creature varying.&nbsp; &ldquo;Natural selection&rdquo;
+operates on what it finds, and not on what it has made.&nbsp; Animals
+that have been wise and lucky live longer and breed more than others
+less wise and lucky.&nbsp; Assuredly.&nbsp; The wise and lucky animals
+transmit their wisdom and luck.&nbsp; Assuredly.&nbsp; They add to their
+powers, and diverge into widely different directions.&nbsp; Assuredly.&nbsp;
+What is the cause of this?&nbsp; Surely the fact that they were capable
+of feeling needs, and that they differed in their needs and manner of
+gratifying them, and that they continued to live in successive generations,
+rather than the fact that when lucky and wise they thrived and bred
+more descendants.&nbsp; This last is an accessory hardly less important
+for the <i>development</i> of species than the fact of the continuation
+of life at all; but it is an accessory of much the same kind as this,
+for if animals continue to live at all, they must live <i>in some way</i>,
+and will find that there are good ways and bad ways of living.&nbsp;
+An animal which discovers the good way will gradually develop further
+powers, and so species will get further and further apart; but the origin
+of this is to be looked for, not in the power which decides whether
+this or that way was good, but in the cause which determines the creature,
+consciously or unconsciously, to try this or that way.</p>
+<p>But Mr. Darwin might say that this is not a fair way of stating the
+issue.&nbsp; He might say, &ldquo;You beg the question; you assume that
+there is an inherent tendency in animals towards progressive development,
+whereas I say that there is no good evidence of any such tendency.&nbsp;
+I maintain that the differences that have from time to time arisen have
+come about mainly from causes so far beyond our ken, that we can only
+call them spontaneous; and if so, natural selection which you must allow
+to have at any rate played an important part in the <i>accumulation</i>
+of variations, must also be allowed to be the nearest thing to the cause
+of Specific differences, which we are able to arrive at.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Thus he writes (&ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo; p. 176, ed. 1876):
+&ldquo;Although we have no good evidence of the existence in organic
+beings of a tendency towards progressive development, yet this necessarily
+follows, as I have attempted to show in the fourth chapter, through
+the continued action of natural selection.&rdquo;&nbsp; Mr. Darwin does
+not say that organic beings have no tendency to vary at all, but only
+that there is no good evidence that they have a tendency to progressive
+development, which, I take it, means, to see an ideal a long way off,
+and very different to their present selves, which ideal they think will
+suit them, and towards which they accordingly make.&nbsp; I would admit
+this as contrary to all experience.&nbsp; I doubt whether plants and
+animals have any <i>innate tendency to vary</i> at all, being led to
+question this by gathering from &ldquo;Plants and Animals under Domestication&rdquo;
+that this is Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s own opinion.&nbsp; I am inclined rather
+to think that they have only an innate <i>power to vary</i> slightly,
+in accordance with changed conditions, and an innate capability of being
+affected both in structure and instinct, by causes similar to those
+which we observe to affect ourselves.&nbsp; But however this may be,
+they do vary somewhat, and unless they did, they would not in time have
+come to be so widely different from each other as they now are.&nbsp;
+The question is as to the origin and character of these variations.</p>
+<p>We say they mainly originate in a creature through a sense of its
+needs, and vary through the varying surroundings which will cause those
+needs to vary, and through the opening up of new desires in many creatures,
+as the consequence of the gratification of old ones; they depend greatly
+on differences of individual capacity and temperament; they are communicated,
+and in the course of time transmitted, as what we call hereditary habits
+or structures, though these are only, in truth, intense and epitomised
+memories of how certain creatures liked to deal with protoplasm.&nbsp;
+The question whether this or that is really good or ill, is settled,
+as the proof of the pudding by the eating thereof, <i>i.e</i>., by the
+rigorous competitive examinations through which most living organisms
+must pass.&nbsp; Mr. Darwin says that there is no good evidence in support
+of any great principle, or tendency on the part of the creature itself,
+which would steer variation, as it were, and keep its head straight,
+but that the most marvellous adaptations of structures to needs are
+simply the result of small and blind variations, accumulated by the
+operation of &ldquo;natural selection,&rdquo; which is thus the main
+cause of the origin of species.</p>
+<p>Enough has perhaps already been said to make the reader feel that
+the question wants reopening; I shall, therefore, here only remark that
+we may assume no fundamental difference as regards intelligence, memory,
+and sense of needs to exist between man and the lowest animals, and
+that in man we do distinctly see a tendency towards progressive development,
+operating through his power of profiting by and transmitting his experience,
+but operating in directions which man cannot foresee for any long distance.&nbsp;
+We also see this in many of the higher animals under domestication,
+as with horses which have learnt to canter and dogs which point; more
+especially we observe it along the line of latest development, where
+equilibrium of settled convictions has not yet been fully attained.&nbsp;
+One neither finds nor expects much <i>a priori</i> knowledge, whether
+in man or beast; but one does find some little in the beginnings of,
+and throughout the development of, every habit, at the commencement
+of which, and on every successive improvement in which, deductive and
+inductive methods are, as it were, fused.&nbsp; Thus the effect, where
+we can best watch its causes, seems mainly produced by a desire for
+a definite object - in some cases a serious and sensible desire, in
+others an idle one, in others, again, a mistaken one; and sometimes
+by a blunder which, in the hands of an otherwise able creature, has
+turned up trumps.&nbsp; In wild animals and plants the divergences have
+been accumulated, if they answered to the prolonged desires of the creature
+itself, and if these desires were to its true ultimate good; with plants
+or animals under domestication they have been accumulated if they answered
+a little to the original wishes of the creature, and much, to the wishes
+of man.&nbsp; As long as man continued to like them, they would be advantageous
+to the creature; when he tired of them, they would be disadvantageous
+to it, and would accumulate no longer.&nbsp; Surely the results produced
+in the adaptation of structure to need among many plants and insects
+are better accounted for on this, which I suppose to be Lamarck&rsquo;s
+view, namely, by supposing that what goes on amongst ourselves has gone
+on amongst all creatures, than by supposing that these adaptations are
+the results of perfectly blind and unintelligent variations.</p>
+<p>Let me give two examples of such adaptations, taken from Mr. St.
+George Mivart&rsquo;s &ldquo;Genesis of Species,&rdquo; to which work
+I would wish particularly to call the reader&rsquo;s attention.&nbsp;
+He should also read Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s answers to Mr. Mivart (p. 176,
+&ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo; ed. 1876, and onwards).</p>
+<p>Mr. Mivart writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some insects which imitate leaves extend the imitation even
+to the very injuries on those leaves made by the attacks of insects
+or fungi.&nbsp; Thus speaking of the walking-stick insects, Mr. Wallace
+says, &lsquo;One of these creatures obtained by myself in Borneo (<i>ceroxylus
+laceratus</i>) was covered over with foliaceous excrescences of a clear
+olive green colour, so as exactly to resemble a stick grown over by
+a creeping moss or jungermannia.&nbsp; The Dyak who brought it me assured
+me it was grown over with moss, though alive, and it was only after
+a most minute examination that I could convince myself it was not so.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+Again, as to the leaf butterfly, he says, &lsquo;We come to a still
+more extraordinary part of the imitation, for we find representations
+of leaves in every stage of decay, variously blotched, and mildewed,
+and pierced with holes, and in many cases irregularly covered with powdery
+black dots, gathered into patches and spots so closely resembling the
+various kinds of minute fungi that grow on dead leaves, that it is impossible
+to avoid thinking at first sight that the butterflies themselves have
+been attacked by real fungi.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I can no more believe that these artificial fungi in which the moth
+arrays itself are due to the accumulation of minute, perfectly blind,
+and unintelligent variations, than I can believe that the artificial
+flowers which a woman wears in her hat can have got there without design;
+or that a detective puts on plain clothes without the slightest intention
+of making his victim think that he is not a policeman.</p>
+<p>Again Mr. Mivart writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;In the work just referred to (&lsquo;The Fertilisation of
+Orchids&rsquo;), Mr. Darwin gives a series of the most wonderful and
+minute contrivances, by which the visits of insects are utilised for
+the fertilisation of orchids - structures so wonderful that nothing
+could well be more so, except the attribution of their origin to minute,
+fortuitous, and indefinite variations.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The instances are too numerous and too long to quote, but
+in his &lsquo;Origin of Species&rsquo; he describes two which must not
+be passed over.&nbsp; In one (<i>coryanthes</i>) the orchid has its
+lower lip enlarged into a bucket, above which stand two water-secreting
+horns.&nbsp; These latter replenish the bucket, from which, when half-filled,
+the water overflows by a spout on one side.&nbsp; Bees visiting the
+flower fall into the bucket and crawl out at the spout.&nbsp; By the
+peculiar arrangement of the parts of the flower, the first bee which
+does so, carries away the pollen mass glued to his back, and then when
+he has his next involuntary bath in another flower, as he crawls out,
+the pollen attached to him comes in contact with the stigma of that
+second flower and fertilises it.&nbsp; In the other example (<i>catasetum</i>),
+when a bee gnaws a certain part of the flower, he inevitably touches
+a long delicate projection which Mr. Darwin calls the &lsquo;antenna.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+&lsquo;This antenna transmits a vibration to a membrane which is instantly
+ruptured; this sets free a spring by which the pollen mass is shot forth
+like an arrow in the right direction, and adheres by its viscid extremity
+to the back of the bee&rsquo;&rdquo; (&ldquo;Genesis of Species,&rdquo;
+p. 63).</p>
+<p>No one can tell a story so charmingly as Mr. Darwin, but I can no
+more believe that all this has come about without design on the part
+of the orchid, and a gradual perception of the advantages it is able
+to take over the bee, and a righteous determination to enjoy them, than
+I can believe that a mousetrap or a steam-engine is the result of the
+accumulation of blind minute fortuitous variations in a creature called
+man, which creature has never wanted either mousetraps or steam-engines,
+but has had a sort of promiscuous tendency to make them, and was benefited
+by making them, so that those of the race who had a tendency to make
+them survived and left issue, which issue would thus naturally tend
+to make more mousetraps and more steam-engines.</p>
+<p>Pursuing this idea still further, can we for a moment believe that
+these additions to our limbs - for this is what they are - have mainly
+come about through the occasional birth of individuals, who, without
+design on their own parts, nevertheless made them better or worse, and
+who, accordingly, either survived and transmitted their improvement,
+or perished, they and their incapacity together?</p>
+<p>When I can believe in this, then - and not till then - can I believe
+in an origin of species which does not resolve itself mainly into sense
+of need, faith, intelligence, and memory.&nbsp; Then, and not till then,
+can I believe that such organs as the eye and ear can have arisen in
+any other way than as the result of that kind of mental ingenuity, and
+of moral as well as physical capacity, without which, till then, I should
+have considered such an invention as the steam-engine to be impossible.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV - MR. MIVART AND MR. DARWIN</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;A distinguished zoologist, Mr. St. George Mivart,&rdquo; writes
+Mr. Darwin, &ldquo;has recently collected all the objections which have
+ever been advanced by myself and others against the theory of natural
+selection, as propounded by Mr. Wallace and myself, and has illustrated
+them with admirable art and force (&ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo;
+p. 176, ed. 1876).&nbsp; I have already referred the reader to Mr. Mivart&rsquo;s
+work, but quote the above passage as showing that Mr. Mivart will not,
+probably, be found to have left much unsaid that would appear to make
+against Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s theory.&nbsp; It is incumbent upon me both
+to see how far Mr. Mivart&rsquo;s objections are weighty as against
+Mr. Darwin, and also whether or not they tell with equal force against
+the view which I am myself advocating.&nbsp; I will therefore touch
+briefly upon the most important of them, with the purpose of showing
+that they are serious as against the doctrine that small fortuitous
+variations are the origin of species, but that they have no force against
+evolution as guided by intelligence and memory.</p>
+<p>But before doing this, I would demur to the words used by Mr. Darwin,
+and just quoted above, namely, &ldquo;the theory of natural selection.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+I imagine that I see in them the fallacy which I believe to run through
+almost all Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s work, namely, that &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo;
+is a theory (if, indeed, it can be a theory at all), in some way accounting
+for the origin of variation, and so of species - &ldquo;natural selection,&rdquo;
+as we have already seen, being unable to &ldquo;induce variability,&rdquo;
+and being only able to accumulate what - on the occasion of each successive
+variation, and so during the whole process - must have been originated
+by something else.</p>
+<p>Again, Mr. Darwin writes - &ldquo;In considering the origin of species
+it is quite conceivable that a naturalist, reflecting on the mutual
+affinities of organic beings, or their embryological relations, their
+geographical distribution, geological succession, and other such facts,
+might come to the conclusion that species had not been independently
+created, but had descended, like varieties from other species.&nbsp;
+Nevertheless, such a conclusion, even if well founded, would be unsatisfactory,
+until it could be shown how the innumerable species inhabiting this
+world had been modified, so as to acquire that perfection of structure
+and co-adaptation which justly excites our admiration&rdquo; (&ldquo;Origin
+of Species,&rdquo; p. 2, ed. 1876).</p>
+<p>After reading the above we feel that nothing more satisfactory could
+be desired.&nbsp; We are sure that we are in the hands of one who can
+indeed tell us &ldquo;how the innumerable species inhabiting this world
+have been modified,&rdquo; and we are no less sure that though others
+may have written upon the subject before, there has been, as yet, no
+satisfactory explanation put forward of the grand principle upon which
+modification has proceeded.&nbsp; Then follows a delightful volume,
+with facts upon facts concerning animals, all showing that species is
+due to successive small modifications accumulated in the course of nature.&nbsp;
+But one cannot suppose that Lamarck ever doubted this; for he can never
+have meant to say, that a low form of life made itself into an elephant
+at one or two great bounds; and if he did not mean this, he must have
+meant that it made itself into an elephant through the accumulation
+of small successive modifications; these, he must have seen, were capable
+of accumulation in the scheme of nature, though he may not have dwelt
+on the manner in which this is accomplished, inasmuch as it is obviously
+a matter of secondary importance in comparison with the origin of the
+variations themselves.&nbsp; We believe, however, throughout Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s
+book, that we are being told what we expected to be told; and so convinced
+are we, by the facts adduced, that in some way or other evolution must
+be true, and so grateful are we for being allowed to think this, that
+we put down the volume without perceiving that, whereas Lamarck <i>did</i>
+adduce a great and general cause of variation, the insufficiency of
+which, in spite of errors of detail, has yet to be shown, Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s
+main cause of variation resolves itself into a confession of ignorance.</p>
+<p>This, however, should detract but little from our admiration for
+Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s achievement.&nbsp; Any one can make people see a
+thing if he puts it in the right way, but Mr. Darwin made us see evolution,
+in spite of his having put it, in what seems to not a few, an exceedingly
+mistaken way.&nbsp; Yet his triumph is complete, for no matter how much
+any one now moves the foundation, he cannot shake the superstructure,
+which has become so currently accepted as to be above the need of any
+support from reason, and to be as difficult to destroy as it was originally
+difficult of construction.&nbsp; Less than twenty years ago, we never
+met with, or heard of, any one who accepted evolution; we did not even
+know that such a doctrine had been ever broached; unless it was that
+some one now and again said that there was a very dreadful book going
+about like a rampant lion, called &ldquo;Vestiges of Creation,&rdquo;
+whereon we said that we would on no account read it, lest it should
+shake our faith; then we would shake our heads and talk of the preposterous
+folly and wickedness of such shallow speculations.&nbsp; Had not the
+book of Genesis been written for our learning?&nbsp; Yet, now, who seriously
+disputes the main principles of evolution?&nbsp; I cannot believe that
+there is a bishop on the bench at this moment who does not accept them;
+even the &ldquo;holy priests&rdquo; themselves bless evolution as their
+predecessors blessed Cleopatra - when they ought not.&nbsp; It is not
+he who first conceives an idea, nor he who sets it on its legs and makes
+it go on all fours, but he who makes other people accept the main conclusion,
+whether on right grounds or on wrong ones, who has done the greatest
+work as regards the promulgation of an opinion.&nbsp; And this is what
+Mr. Darwin has done for evolution.&nbsp; He has made us think that we
+know the origin of species, and so of genera, in spite of his utmost
+efforts to assure us that we know nothing of the causes from which the
+vast majority of modifications have arisen - that is to say, he has
+made us think we know the whole road, though he has almost ostentatiously
+blindfolded us at every step of the journey.&nbsp; But to the end of
+time, if the question be asked, &ldquo;Who taught people to believe
+in evolution?&rdquo; there can only be one answer - that it was Mr.
+Darwin.</p>
+<p>Mr. Mivart urges with much force the difficulty of <i>starting</i>
+any modification on which &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; is to work,
+and of getting a creature to vary in any definite direction.&nbsp; Thus,
+after quoting from Mr. Wallace some of the wonderful cases of &ldquo;mimicry&rdquo;
+which are to be found among insects, he writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now, let us suppose that the ancestors of these various animals
+were all destitute of the very special protection they at present possess,
+as on the Darwinian hypothesis we must do.&nbsp; Let it be also conceded
+that small deviations from the antecedent colouring or form would tend
+to make some of their ancestors escape destruction, by causing them
+more or less frequently to be passed over or mistaken by their persecutors.&nbsp;
+Yet the deviation must, as the event has shown, in each case, be in
+some definite direction, whether it be towards some other animal or
+plant, or towards some dead or inorganic matter.&nbsp; But as, according
+to Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s theory, there is a constant tendency to indefinite
+variation, and as the minute incipient variations will be <i>in all
+directions</i>, they must tend to neutralise each other, and at first
+to form such unstable modifications, that it is difficult, if not impossible,
+to see how such indefinite modifications of insignificant beginnings
+can ever build up a sufficiently appreciable resemblance to a leaf,
+bamboo, or other object for &ldquo;natural selection,&rdquo; to seize
+upon and perpetuate.&nbsp; This difficulty is augmented when we consider
+- a point to be dwelt upon hereafter - how necessary it is that many
+individuals should be similarly modified simultaneously.&nbsp; This
+has been insisted on in an able article in the &lsquo;North British
+Review&rsquo; for June 1867, p. 286, and the consideration of the article
+has occasioned Mr. Darwin&rdquo; (&ldquo;Origin of Species,&rdquo; 5th
+ed., p. 104) &ldquo;to make an important modification in his views (&ldquo;Genesis
+of Species,&rdquo; p. 38).</p>
+<p>To this Mr. Darwin rejoins:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But in all the foregoing cases the insects in their original
+state, no doubt, presented some rude and accidental resemblance to an
+object commonly found in the stations frequented by them.&nbsp; Nor
+is this improbable, considering the almost infinite number of surrounding
+objects, and the diversity of form and colour of the host of insects
+that exist&rdquo; (&ldquo;Natural Selection,&rdquo; p. 182, ed. 1876).</p>
+<p>Mr. Mivart has just said: &ldquo;It is difficult to see how such
+indefinite modifications of insignificant beginnings <i>can ever build
+up a sufficiently appreciable resemblance to a leaf, bamboo, or other
+object, for</i> &lsquo;<i>natural selection</i>&rsquo; <i>to work upon</i>.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The answer is, that &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; did not begin
+to work <i>until, from unknown causes, an appreciable resemblance had
+nevertheless been presented</i>.&nbsp; I think the reader will agree
+with me that the development of the lowest life into a creature which
+bears even &ldquo;a rude resemblance&rdquo; to the objects commonly
+found in the station in which it is moving in its present differentiation,
+requires more explanation than is given by the word &ldquo;accidental.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Darwin continues: &ldquo;As some rude resemblance is necessary
+for the first start,&rdquo; &amp;c.; and a little lower he writes: &ldquo;Assuming
+that an insect originally happened to resemble in some degree a dead
+twig or a decayed leaf, and that it varied slightly in many ways, then
+all the variations which rendered the insect at all more like any such
+object, and thus favoured its escape, would be preserved, while other
+variations would be neglected, and ultimately lost, or if they rendered
+the insect at all less like the imitated object, they would be eliminated.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But here, again, we are required to begin with Natural Selection
+when the work is already in great part done, owing to causes about which
+we are left completely in the dark; we may, I think, fairly demur to
+the insects <i>originally</i> happening to resemble in some degree a
+dead twig or a decayed leaf.&nbsp; And when we bear in mind that the
+variations, being supposed by Mr. Darwin to be indefinite, or devoid
+of aim, will appear in every direction, we cannot forget what Mr. Mivart
+insists upon, namely, that the chances of many favourable variations
+being counteracted by other unfavourable ones in the same creature are
+not inconsiderable.&nbsp; Nor, again, is it likely that the favourable
+variation would make its mark upon the race, and escape being absorbed
+in the course of a few generations, unless - as Mr. Mivart elsewhere
+points out, in a passage to which I shall call the reader&rsquo;s attention
+presently - a larger number of similarly varying creatures made their
+appearance at the same time than there seems sufficient reason to anticipate,
+if the variations can be called fortuitous.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There would,&rdquo; continues Mr. Darwin, &ldquo;indeed be
+force in Mr. Mivart&rsquo;s objection if we were to attempt to account
+for the above resemblances, independently of &lsquo;natural selection,&rsquo;
+through mere fluctuating variability; but as the case stands, there
+is none.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This comes to saying that, if there was no power in nature which
+operates so that of all the many fluctuating variations, those only
+are preserved which tend to the resemblance which is beneficial to the
+creature, then indeed there would be difficulty in understanding how
+the resemblance could have come about; but that as there is a beneficial
+resemblance to start with, and as there is a power in nature which would
+preserve and accumulate further beneficial resemblance, should it arise
+from this cause or that, the difficulty is removed.&nbsp; But Mr. Mivart
+does not, I take it, deny the existence of such a power in nature, as
+Mr. Darwin supposes, though, if I understand him rightly, he does not
+see that its operation <i>upon small fortuitous variations</i> is at
+all the simple and obvious process, which on a superficial view of the
+case it would appear to be.&nbsp; He thinks - and I believe the reader
+will agree with him - that this process is too slow and too risky.&nbsp;
+What he wants to know is, how the insect came even rudely to resemble
+the object, and how, if its variations are indefinite, we are ever to
+get into such a condition as to be able to report progress, owing to
+the constant liability of the creature which has varied favourably,
+to play the part of Penelope and undo its work, by varying in some one
+of the infinite number of other directions which are open to it - all
+of which, except this one, tend to destroy the resemblance, and yet
+may be in some other respect even more advantageous to the creature,
+and so tend to its preservation.&nbsp; Moreover, here, too, I think
+(though I cannot be sure), we have a recurrence of the original fallacy
+in the words - &ldquo;If we were to account for the above resemblances,
+independently of &lsquo;natural selection,&rsquo; through mere fluctuating
+variability.&rdquo;&nbsp; Surely Mr. Darwin does, after all, &ldquo;account
+for the resemblances through mere fluctuating variability,&rdquo; for
+&ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; does not account for one single variation
+in the whole list of them from first to last, other than indirectly,
+as shewn in the preceding chapter.</p>
+<p>It is impossible for me to continue this subject further; but I would
+beg the reader to refer to other paragraphs in the neighbourhood of
+the one just quoted, in which he may - though I do not think he will
+- see reason to think that I should have given Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s answer
+more fully.&nbsp; I do not quote Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s next paragraph,
+inasmuch as I see no great difficulty about &ldquo;the last touches
+of perfection in mimicry,&rdquo; provided Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s theory
+will account for any mimicry at all.&nbsp; If it could do this, it might
+as well do more; but a strong impression is left on my mind, that without
+the help of something over and above the power to vary, which should
+give a definite aim to variations, all the &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo;
+in the world would not have prevented stagnation and self-stultification,
+owing to the indefinite tendency of the variations, which thus could
+not have developed either a preyer or a preyee, but would have gone
+round and round and round the primordial cell till they were weary of
+it.</p>
+<p>As against Mr. Darwin, therefore, I think that the objection just
+given from Mr. Mivart is fatal.&nbsp; I believe, also, that the reader
+will feel the force of it much more strongly if he will turn to Mr.
+Mivart&rsquo;s own pages.&nbsp; Against the view which I am myself supporting,
+the objection breaks down entirely, for grant &ldquo;a little dose of
+judgement and reason&rdquo; on the part of the creature itself - grant
+also continued personality and memory - and a definite tendency is at
+once given to the variations.&nbsp; The process is thus started, and
+is kept straight, and helped forward through every stage by &ldquo;the
+little dose of reason,&rdquo; &amp;c., which enabled it to take its
+first step.&nbsp; We are, in fact, no longer without a helm, but can
+steer each creature that is so discontented with its condition, as to
+make a serious effort to better itself, into <i>some</i> - and into
+a very distant - harbour.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>It has been objected against Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s theory that if all
+species and genera have come to differ through the accumulation of minute
+but - as a general rule - fortuitous variations, there has not been
+time enough, so far as we are able to gather, for the evolution of all
+existing forms by so slow a process.&nbsp; On this subject I would again
+refer the reader to Mr. Mivart&rsquo;s book, from which I take the following:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sir William Thompson has lately advanced arguments from three
+distinct lines of inquiry agreeing in one approximate result.&nbsp;
+The three lines of inquiry are - (1) the action of the tides upon the
+earth&rsquo;s rotation; (2) the probable length of time during which
+the sun has illuminated this planet; and (3) the temperature of the
+interior of the earth.&nbsp; The result arrived at by these investigations
+is a conclusion that the existing state of things on the earth, life
+on the earth, all geological history showing continuity of life, must
+be limited within some such period of past time as one hundred million
+years.&nbsp; The first question which suggests itself, supposing Sir
+W. Thompson&rsquo;s views to be correct, is: Has this period been anything
+like enough for the evolution of all organic forms by &lsquo;natural
+selection&rsquo;?&nbsp; The second is: Has the period been anything
+like enough for the deposition of the strata which must have been deposited
+if all organic forms have been evolved by minute steps, according to
+the Darwinian theory?&rdquo;&nbsp; (&ldquo;Genesis of Species,&rdquo;
+p. 154).</p>
+<p>Mr. Mivart then quotes from Mr. Murphy - whose work I have not seen
+- the following passage:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Darwin justly mentions the greyhound as being equal to any
+natural species in the perfect co-ordination of its parts, &lsquo;all
+adapted for extreme fleetness and for running down weak prey.&rsquo;&nbsp;
+Yet it is an artificial species (and not physiologically a species at
+all) formed by a long-continued selection under domestication; and there
+is no reason to suppose that any of the variations which have been selected
+to form it have been other than gradual and almost imperceptible.&nbsp;
+Suppose that it has taken five hundred years to form the greyhound out
+of his wolf-like ancestor.&nbsp; This is a mere guess, but it gives
+the order of magnitude.&nbsp; Now, if so, how long would it take to
+obtain an elephant from a protozoon or even from a tadpole-like fish?&nbsp;
+Ought it not to take much more than a million times as long?&rdquo;&nbsp;
+(&ldquo;Genesis of Species,&rdquo; p. 155).</p>
+<p>I should be very sorry to pronounce any opinion upon the foregoing
+data; but a general impression is left upon my mind, that if the differences
+between an elephant and a tadpole-like fish have arisen from the accumulation
+of small variations that have had no direction given them by intelligence
+and sense of needs, then no time conceivable by man would suffice for
+their development.&nbsp; But grant &ldquo;a little dose of reason and
+judgement,&rdquo; even to animals low down in the scale of nature, and
+grant this, not only during their later life, but during their embryological
+existence, and see with what infinitely greater precision of aim and
+with what increased speed the variations would arise.&nbsp; Evolution
+entirely unaided by inherent intelligence must be a very slow, if not
+quite inconceivable, process.&nbsp; Evolution helped by intelligence
+would still be slow, but not so desperately slow.&nbsp; One can conceive
+that there has been sufficient time for the second, but one cannot conceive
+it for the first.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>I find from Mr. Mivart that objection has been taken to Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s
+views, on account of the great odds that exist against the appearance
+of any given variation at one and the same time, in a sufficient number
+of individuals, to prevent its being obliterated almost as soon as produced
+by the admixture of unvaried blood which would so greatly preponderate
+around it; and indeed the necessity for a nearly simultaneous and similar
+variation, or readiness so to vary on the part of many individuals,
+seems almost a postulate for evolution at all.&nbsp; On this subject
+Mr. Mivart writes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The &lsquo;North British Review&rsquo; (speaking of the supposition
+that species is changed by the survival of a few individuals in a century
+through a similar and favourable variation) says -</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;It is very difficult to see how this can be accomplished,
+even when the variation is eminently favourable indeed; and still more,
+when the advantage gained is very slight, as must generally be the case.&nbsp;
+The advantage, whatever it may be, is utterly outbalanced by numerical
+inferiority.&nbsp; A million creatures are born; ten thousand survive
+to produce offspring.&nbsp; One of the million has twice as good a chance
+as any other of surviving, but the chances are fifty to one against
+the gifted individuals being one of the hundred survivors.&nbsp; No
+doubt the chances are twice as great against any other individual, but
+this does not prevent their being enormously in favour of <i>some</i>
+average individual.&nbsp; However slight the advantage may be, if it
+is shared by half the individuals produced, it will probably be present
+in at least fifty-one of the survivors, and in a larger proportion of
+their offspring; but the chances are against the preservation of any
+one &ldquo;sport&rdquo; (<i>i.e</i>., sudden marked variation) in a
+numerous tribe.&nbsp; The vague use of an imperfectly-understood doctrine
+of chance, has led Darwinian supporters, first, to confuse the two cases
+above distinguished, and secondly, to imagine that a very slight balance
+in favour of some individual sport must lead to its perpetuation.&nbsp;
+All that can be said is that in the above example the favoured sport
+would be preserved once in fifty times.&nbsp; Let us consider what will
+be its influence on the main stock when preserved.&nbsp; It will breed
+and have a progeny of say 100; now this progeny will, on the whole,
+be intermediate between the average individual and the sport.&nbsp;
+The odds in favour of one of this generation of the new breed will be,
+say one and a half to one, as compared with the average individual;
+the odds in their favour will, therefore, be less than that of their
+parents; but owing to their greater number the chances are that about
+one and a half of them would survive.&nbsp; Unless these breed together
+- a most improbable event - their progeny would again approach the average
+individual; there would be 150 of them, and their superiority would
+be, say in the ratio of one and a quarter to one; the probability would
+now be that nearly two of them would survive, and have 200 children
+with an eighth superiority.&nbsp; Rather more than two of these would
+survive; but the superiority would again dwindle; until after a few
+generations it would no longer be observed, and would count for no more
+in the struggle for life than any of the hundred trifling advantages
+which occur in the ordinary organs.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;&lsquo;An illustration will bring this conception home.&nbsp;
+Suppose a white man to have been wrecked on an island inhabited by negroes,
+and to have established himself in friendly relations with a powerful
+tribe, whose customs he has learnt.&nbsp; Suppose him to possess the
+physical strength, energy, and ability of a dominant white race, and
+let the food of the island suit his constitution; grant him every advantage
+which we can conceive a white to possess over the native; concede that
+in the struggle for existence, his chance of a long life will be much
+superior to that of the native chiefs; yet from all these admissions
+there does not follow the conclusion, that after a limited or unlimited
+number of generations, the inhabitants of the island will be white.&nbsp;
+Our shipwrecked hero would probably become king; he would kill a great
+many blacks in the struggle for existence; he would have a great many
+wives and children . . . In the first generation there will be some
+dozens of intelligent young mulattoes, much superior in average intelligence
+to the negroes.&nbsp; We might expect the throne for some generations
+to be occupied by a more or less yellow king; but can any one believe
+that the whole island will gradually acquire a white, or even a yellow
+population? . . . Darwin says, that in the struggle for life a grain
+may turn the balance in favour of a given structure, which will then
+be preserved.&nbsp; But one of the weights in the scale of nature is
+due to the number of a given tribe.&nbsp; Let there be 7000 A&rsquo;s
+and 7000 B&rsquo;s representing two varieties of a given animal, and
+let all the B&rsquo;s, in virtue of a slight difference of structure,
+have the better chance by one-thousandth part.&nbsp; We must allow that
+there is a slight probability that the descendants of B will supplant
+the descendants of A; but let there be 7001 A&rsquo;s against 7000 B&rsquo;s
+at first, and the chances are once more equal, while if there be 7002
+A&rsquo;s to start, the odds would be laid on the A&rsquo;s.&nbsp; Thus
+they stand a greater chance of being killed; but, then, they can better
+afford to be killed.&nbsp; The grain will only turn the scales when
+these are very nicely balanced, and an advantage in numbers counts for
+weight, even as an advantage in structure.&nbsp; As the numbers of the
+favoured variety diminish, so must its relative advantages increase,
+if the chance of its existence is to surpass the chance of its extinction,
+until hardly any conceivable advantage would enable the descendants
+of a single pair to exterminate the descendants of many thousands, if
+they and their descendants are supposed to breed freely with the inferior
+variety, and so gradually lose their ascendancy,&rsquo;&rdquo; (&ldquo;North
+British Review,&rdquo; June 1867, p. 286 &ldquo;Genesis of Species,&rdquo;
+p. 64, and onwards).</p>
+<p>Against this it should be remembered that there is always an antecedent
+probability that several specimens of a given variation would appear
+at one time and place.&nbsp; This would probably be the case even on
+Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s hypothesis, that the variations are fortuitous; if
+they are mainly guided by sense of need and intelligence, it would almost
+certainly be so, for all would have much the same idea as to their well-being,
+and the same cause which would lead one to vary in this direction would
+lead not a few others to do so at the same time, or to follow suit.&nbsp;
+Thus we see that many human ideas and inventions have been conceived
+independently but simultaneously.&nbsp; The chances, moreover, of specimens
+that have varied successfully, intermarrying, are, I think, greater
+than the reviewer above quoted from would admit.&nbsp; I believe that
+on the hypothesis that the variations are fortuitous, and certainly
+on the supposition that they are intelligent, they might be looked for
+in members of the same family, who would hence have a better chance
+of finding each other out.&nbsp; Serious as is the difficulty advanced
+by the reviewer as against Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s theory, it may be in great
+measure parried without departing from Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s own position,
+but the &ldquo;little dose of judgement and reason&rdquo; removes it,
+absolutely and entirely.&nbsp; As for the reviewer&rsquo;s shipwrecked
+hero, surely the reviewer must know that Mr. Darwin would no more expect
+an island of black men to be turned white, or even perceptibly whitened
+after a few generations, than the reviewer himself would do so.&nbsp;
+But if we turn from what &ldquo;might&rdquo; or what &ldquo;would&rdquo;
+happen to what &ldquo;does&rdquo; happen, we find that a few white families
+have nearly driven the Indian from the United States, the Australian
+natives from Australia, and the Maories from New Zealand.&nbsp; True,
+these few families have been helped by immigration; but it will be admitted
+that this has only accelerated a result which would otherwise, none
+the less surely, have been effected.</p>
+<p>There is all the difference between a sudden sport, or even a variety
+introduced from a foreign source, and the gradual, intelligent, and,
+in the main, steady, growth of a race towards ends always a little,
+but not much, in advance of what it can at present compass, until it
+has reached equilibrium with its surroundings.&nbsp; So far as Mr. Darwin&rsquo;s
+variations are of the nature of &ldquo;sport,&rdquo; <i>i.e</i>., rare,
+and owing to nothing that we can in the least assign to any known cause,
+the reviewer&rsquo;s objections carry much weight.&nbsp; Against the
+view here advocated, they are powerless.</p>
+<p>I cannot here go into the difficulties of the geologic record, but
+they too will, I believe, be felt to be almost infinitely simplified
+by supposing the development of structure and instinct to be guided
+by intelligence and memory, which, even under unstable conditions, would
+be able to meet in some measure the demands made upon them.</p>
+<p>When Mr. Mivart deals with evolution and ethics, I am afraid that
+I differ from him even more widely than I have done from Mr. Darwin.&nbsp;
+He writes (&ldquo;Genesis of Species,&rdquo; p. 234): &ldquo;That &lsquo;natural
+selection&rsquo; could not have produced from the sensations of pleasure
+and pain experienced by brutes a higher degree of morality than was
+useful; therefore it could have produced any amount of &lsquo;beneficial
+habits,&rsquo; but not abhorrence of certain acts as impure and sinful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Possibly &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; may not be able to do much
+in the way of accumulating variations that do not arise; but that, according
+to the views supported in this volume, all that is highest and most
+beautiful in the soul, as well as in the body, could be, and has been,
+developed from beings lower than man, I do not greatly doubt.&nbsp;
+Mr. Mivart and myself should probably differ as to what is and what
+is not beautiful.&nbsp; Thus he writes of &ldquo;the noble virtue of
+a Marcus Aurelius&rdquo; (p. 235), than whom, for my own part, I know
+few respectable figures in history to whom I am less attracted.&nbsp;
+I cannot but think that Mr. Mivart has taken his estimate of this emperor
+at second-hand, and without reference to the writings which happily
+enable us to form a fair estimate of his real character.</p>
+<p>Take the opening paragraphs of the &ldquo;Thoughts&rdquo; of Marcus
+Aurelius, as translated by Mr. Long:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From the reputation and remembrance of my father [I learned]
+modesty and a manly character; from my mother, piety and beneficence,
+abstinence not only from evil deeds, but even from evil thoughts. .
+. .&nbsp; From my great-grandfather, not to have frequented public schools,
+and to have had good teachers at home, and to know that on such things
+a man should spend liberally . . . From Diognetus . . . [I learned]
+to have become intimate with philosophy, . . . and to have written dialogues
+in my youth, and to have desired a plank bed and skin, and whatever
+else of the kind belongs to the Greek discipline. . . .&nbsp; From Rusticus
+I received the impression that my character required improvement and
+discipline;&rdquo; and so on to the end of the chapter, near which,
+however, it is right to say that there appears a redeeming touch, in
+so far as that he thanks the gods that he could not write poetry, and
+that he had never occupied himself about the appearance of things in
+the heavens.</p>
+<p>Or, again, opening Mr. Long&rsquo;s translation at random I find
+(p. 37):-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As physicians have always their instruments and knives ready
+for cases which suddenly require their skill, so do thou have principles
+ready for the understanding of things divine and human, and for doing
+everything, even the smallest, with a recollection of the bond that
+unites the divine and human to one another.&nbsp; For neither wilt thou
+do anything well which pertains to man without at the same time having
+a reference to things divine; nor the contrary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Unhappy one!&nbsp; No wonder the Roman empire went to pieces soon
+after him.&nbsp; If I remember rightly, he established and subsidised
+professorships in all parts of his dominions.&nbsp; Whereon the same
+befell the arts and literature of Rome as befell Italian painting after
+the Academic system had taken root at Bologna under the Caracci.&nbsp;
+Mr. Martin Tupper, again, is an amiable and well-meaning man, but we
+should hardly like to see him in Lord Beaconsfield&rsquo;s place.&nbsp;
+The Athenians poisoned Socrates; and Aristophanes - than whom few more
+profoundly religious men have ever been born - did not, so far as we
+can gather, think the worse of his countrymen on that account.&nbsp;
+It is not improbable that if they had poisoned Plato too, Aristophanes
+would have been well enough pleased; but I think he would have preferred
+either of these two men to Marcus Aurelius.</p>
+<p>I know nothing about the loving but manly devotion of a St. Lewis,
+but I strongly suspect that Mr. Mivart has taken him, too, upon hearsay.</p>
+<p>On the other hand, among dogs we find examples of every heroic quality,
+and of all that is most perfectly charming to us in man.</p>
+<p>As for the possible development of the more brutal human natures
+from the more brutal instincts of the lower animals, those who read
+a horrible story told in a note, pp. 233, 234 of Mr. Mivart&rsquo;s
+&ldquo;Genesis of Species,&rdquo; will feel no difficulty on that score.&nbsp;
+I must admit, however, that the telling of that story seems to me to
+be a mistake in a philosophical work, which should not, I think, unless
+under compulsion, deal either with the horrors of the French Revolution
+- or of the Spanish or Italian Inquisition.</p>
+<p>For the rest of Mr. Mivart&rsquo;s objections, I must refer the reader
+to his own work.&nbsp; I have been unable to find a single one, which
+I do not believe to be easily met by the Lamarckian view, with the additions
+(if indeed they are additions, for I must own to no very profound knowledge
+of what Lamarck did or did not say), which I have in this volume proposed
+to make to it.&nbsp; At the same time I admit, that as against the Darwinian
+view, many of them seem quite unanswerable.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>CHAPTER XV - CONCLUDING REMARKS</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Here, then, I leave my case, though well aware that I have crossed
+the threshold only of my subject.&nbsp; My work is of a tentative character,
+put before the public as a sketch or design for a, possibly, further
+endeavour, in which I hope to derive assistance from the criticisms
+which this present volume may elicit.&nbsp; Such as it is, however,
+for the present I must leave it.</p>
+<p>We have seen that we cannot do anything thoroughly till we can do
+it unconsciously, and that we cannot do anything unconsciously till
+we can do it thoroughly; this at first seems illogical; but logic and
+consistency are luxuries for the gods, and the lower animals, only.&nbsp;
+Thus a boy cannot really know how to swim till he can swim, but he cannot
+swim till he knows how to swim.&nbsp; Conscious effort is but the process
+of rubbing off the rough corners from these two contradictory statements,
+till they eventually fit into one another so closely that it is impossible
+to disjoin them.</p>
+<p>Whenever, therefore, we see any creature able to go through any complicated
+and difficult process with little or no effort - whether it be a bird
+building her nest, or a hen&rsquo;s egg making itself into a chicken,
+or an ovum turning itself into a baby - we may conclude that the creature
+has done the same thing on a very great number of past occasions.</p>
+<p>We found the phenomena exhibited by heredity to be so like those
+of memory, and to be so utterly inexplicable on any other supposition,
+that it was easier to suppose them due to memory in spite of the fact
+that we cannot remember having recollected, than to believe that because
+we cannot so remember, therefore the phenomena cannot be due to memory.</p>
+<p>We were thus led to consider &ldquo;personal identity,&rdquo; in
+order to see whether there was sufficient reason for denying that the
+experience, which we must have clearly gained somewhere, was gained
+by us when we were in the persons of our forefathers; we found, not
+without surprise, that unless we admitted that it might be so gained,
+in so far as that we once <i>actually were</i> our remotest ancestor,
+we must change our ideas concerning personality altogether.</p>
+<p>We therefore assumed that the phenomena of heredity, whether as regards
+instinct or structure were mainly due to memory of past experiences,
+accumulated and fused till they had become automatic, or quasi automatic,
+much in the same way as after a long life -</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>. .&nbsp; &ldquo;Old experience do attain<br />To something like
+prophetic strain.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>After dealing with certain phenomena of memory, but more especially
+with its abeyance and revival, we inquired what the principal corresponding
+phenomena of life and species should be, on the hypothesis that they
+were mainly due to memory.</p>
+<p>I think I may say that we found the hypothesis fit in with actual
+facts in a sufficiently satisfactory manner.&nbsp; We found not a few
+matters, as, for example, the sterility of hybrids, the phenomena of
+old age, and puberty as generally near the end of development, explain
+themselves with more completeness than I have yet heard of their being
+explained on any other hypothesis.</p>
+<p>We considered the most important difficulty in the way of instinct
+as hereditary habit, namely, the structure and instincts of neuter insects;
+these are very unlike those of their parents, and cannot apparently
+be transmitted to offspring by individuals of the previous generation,
+in whom such structure and instincts appeared, inasmuch as these creatures
+are sterile.&nbsp; I do not say that the difficulty is wholly removed,
+inasmuch as some obscurity must be admitted to remain as to the manner
+in which the structure of the larva is aborted; this obscurity is likely
+to remain till we know more of the early history of civilisation among
+bees than I can find that we know at present; but I believe the difficulty
+was reduced to such proportions as to make it little likely to be felt
+in comparison with that of attributing instinct to any other cause than
+inherited habit, or inherited habit modified by changed conditions.</p>
+<p>We then inquired what was the great principle underlying variation,
+and answered, with Lamarck, that it must be &ldquo;sense of need;&rdquo;
+and though not without being haunted by suspicion of a vicious circle,
+and also well aware that we were not much nearer the origin of life
+than when we started, we still concluded that here was the truest origin
+of species, and hence of genera; and that the accumulation of variations,
+which in time amounted to specific and generic differences, was due
+to intelligence and memory on the part of the creature varying, rather
+than to the operation of what Mr. Darwin has called &ldquo;natural selection.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+At the same time we admitted that the course of nature is very much
+as Mr. Darwin has represented it, in this respect, in so far as that
+there is a struggle for existence, and that the weaker must go to the
+wall.&nbsp; But we denied that this part of the course of nature would
+lead to much, if any, accumulation of variation, unless the variation
+was directed mainly by intelligent sense of need, with continued personality
+and memory.</p>
+<p>We conclude, therefore, that the small, structureless, impregnate
+ovum from which we have each one of us sprung, has a potential recollection
+of all that has happened to each one of its ancestors prior to the period
+at which any such ancestor has issued from the bodies of its progenitors
+- provided, that is to say, a sufficiently deep, or sufficiently often-repeated,
+impression has been made to admit of its being remembered at all.</p>
+<p>Each step of normal development will lead the impregnate ovum up
+to, and remind it of, its next ordinary course of action, in the same
+way as we, when we recite a well-known passage, are led up to each successive
+sentence by the sentence which has immediately preceded it.</p>
+<p>And for this reason, namely, that as it takes two people &ldquo;to
+tell&rdquo; a thing - a speaker and a comprehending listener, without
+which last, though much may have been said, there has been nothing told
+- so also it takes two people, as it were, to &ldquo;remember&rdquo;
+a thing - the creature remembering, and the surroundings of the creature
+at the time it last remembered.&nbsp; Hence, though the ovum immediately
+after impregnation is instinct with all the memories of both parents,
+not one of these memories can normally become active till both the ovum
+itself, and its surroundings, are sufficiently like what they respectively
+were, when the occurrence now to be remembered last took place.&nbsp;
+The memory will then immediately return, and the creature will do as
+it did on the last occasion that it was in like case as now.&nbsp; This
+ensures that similarity of order shall be preserved in all the stages
+of development, in successive generations.</p>
+<p>Life, then, is faith founded upon experience, which experience is
+in its turn founded upon faith - or more simply, it is memory.&nbsp;
+Plants and animals only differ from one another because they remember
+different things; plants and animals only grow up in the shapes they
+assume because this shape is their memory, their idea concerning their
+own past history.</p>
+<p>Hence the term &ldquo;Natural History,&rdquo; as applied to the different
+plants and animals around us.&nbsp; For surely the study of natural
+history means only the study of plants and animals themselves, which,
+at the moment of using the words &ldquo;Natural History,&rdquo; we assume
+to be the most important part of nature.</p>
+<p>A living creature well supported by a mass of healthy ancestral memory
+is a young and growing creature, free from ache or pain, and thoroughly
+acquainted with its business so far, but with much yet to be reminded
+of.&nbsp; A creature which finds itself and its surroundings not so
+unlike those of its parents about the time of their begetting it, as
+to be compelled to recognise that it never yet was in any such position,
+is a creature in the heyday of life.&nbsp; A creature which begins to
+be aware of itself is one which is beginning to recognise that the situation
+is a new one.</p>
+<p>It is the young and fair, then, who are the truly old and the truly
+experienced; it is they who alone have a trustworthy memory to guide
+them; they alone know things as they are, and it is from them that,
+as we grow older, we must study if we would still cling to truth.&nbsp;
+The whole charm of youth lies in its advantage over age in respect of
+experience, and where this has for some reason failed, or been misapplied,
+the charm is broken.&nbsp; When we say that we are getting old, we should
+say rather that we are getting new or young, and are suffering from
+inexperience, which drives us into doing things which we do not understand,
+and lands us, eventually, in the utter impotence of death.&nbsp; The
+kingdom of heaven is the kingdom of little children.</p>
+<p>A living creature bereft of all memory dies.&nbsp; If bereft of a
+great part of memory, it swoons or sleeps; and when its memory returns,
+we say it has returned to life.</p>
+<p>Life and death, then, should be memory and forgetfulness, for we
+are dead to all that we have forgotten.</p>
+<p>Life is that property of matter whereby it can remember.&nbsp; Matter
+which can remember is living; matter which cannot remember is dead.</p>
+<p><i>Life, then, is memory</i>.&nbsp; The life of a creature is the
+memory of a creature.&nbsp; We are all the same stuff to start with,
+but we remember different things, and if we did not remember different
+things we should be absolutely like each other.&nbsp; As for the stuff
+itself of which we are made, we know nothing <br />save only that it
+is &ldquo;such as dreams are made of.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I am aware that there are many expressions throughout this book,
+which are not scientifically accurate.&nbsp; Thus I imply that we tend
+towards the centre of the earth, when, I believe, I should say we tend
+towards to the centre of gravity of the earth.&nbsp; I speak of &ldquo;the
+primordial cell,&rdquo; when I mean only the earliest form of life,
+and I thus not only assume a single origin of life when there is no
+necessity for doing so, and perhaps no evidence to this effect, but
+I do so in spite of the fact that the am&oelig;ba, which seems to be
+&ldquo;the simplest form of life,&rdquo; does not appear to be a cell
+at all.&nbsp; I have used the word &ldquo;beget,&rdquo; of what, I am
+told, is asexual generation, whereas the word should be confined to
+sexual generation only.&nbsp; Many more such errors have been pointed
+out to me, and I doubt not that a larger number remain of which I know
+nothing now, but of which I may perhaps be told presently.</p>
+<p>I did not, however, think that in a work of this description the
+additional words which would have been required for scientific accuracy
+were worth the paper and ink and loss of breadth which their introduction
+would entail.&nbsp; Besides, I know nothing about science, and it is
+as well that there should be no mistake on this head; I neither know,
+nor want to know, more detail than is necessary to enable me to give
+a fairly broad and comprehensive view of my subject.&nbsp; When for
+the purpose of giving this, a matter importunately insisted on being
+made out, I endeavoured to make it out as well as I could; otherwise
+- that is to say, if it did not insist on being looked into, in spite
+of a good deal of snubbing, I held that, as it was blurred and indistinct
+in nature, I had better so render it in my work.</p>
+<p>Nevertheless, if one has gone for some time through a wood full of
+burrs, some of them are bound to stick.&nbsp; I am afraid that I have
+left more such burrs in one part and another of my book, than the kind
+of reader whom I alone wish to please will perhaps put up with.&nbsp;
+Fortunately, this kind of reader is the best-natured critic in the world,
+and is long suffering of a good deal that the more consciously scientific
+will not tolerate; I wish, however, that I had not used such expressions
+as &ldquo;centres of thought and action&rdquo; quite so often.</p>
+<p>As for the kind of inaccuracy already alluded to, my reader will
+not, I take it, as a general rule, know, or wish to know, much more
+about science than I do, sometimes perhaps even less; so that he and
+I shall commonly be wrong in the same places, and our two wrongs will
+make a sufficiently satisfactory right for practical purposes.</p>
+<p>Of course, if I were a specialist writing a treatise or primer on
+such and such a point of detail, I admit that scientific accuracy would
+be <i>de rigueur</i>; but I have been trying to paint a picture rather
+than to make a diagram, and I claim the painter&rsquo;s license &ldquo;<i>quidlibet
+audendi</i>.&rdquo;&nbsp; I have done my utmost to give the spirit of
+my subject, but if the letter interfered with the spirit, I have sacrificed
+it without remorse.</p>
+<p>May not what is commonly called a scientific subject have artistic
+value which it is a pity to neglect?&nbsp; But if a subject is to be
+treated artistically - that is to say, with a desire to consider not
+only the facts, but the way in which the reader will feel concerning
+those facts, and the way in which he will wish to see them rendered,
+thus making his mind a factor of the intention, over and above the subject
+itself - then the writer must not be denied a painter&rsquo;s license.&nbsp;
+If one is painting a hillside at a sufficient distance, and cannot see
+whether it is covered with chestnut-trees or walnuts, one is not bound
+to go across the valley to see.&nbsp; If one is painting a city, it
+is not necessary that one should know the names of the streets.&nbsp;
+If a house or tree stands inconveniently for one&rsquo;s purpose, it
+must go without more ado; if two important features, neither of which
+can be left out, want a little bringing together or separating before
+the spirit of the place can be well given, they must be brought together,
+or separated.&nbsp; Which is a more truthful view, of Shrewsbury, for
+example, from a spot where St. Alkmund&rsquo;s spire is in parallax
+with St. Mary&rsquo;s - a view which should give only the one spire
+which can be seen, or one which should give them both, although the
+one is hidden?&nbsp; There would be, I take it, more representation
+in the misrepresentation than in the representation - &ldquo;the half
+would be greater than the whole,&rdquo; unless, that is to say, one
+expressly told the spectator that St. Alkmund&rsquo;s spire was hidden
+behind St. Mary&rsquo;s - a sort of explanation which seldom adds to
+the poetical value of any work of art.&nbsp; Do what one may, and no
+matter how scientific one may be, one cannot attain absolute truth.&nbsp;
+The question is rather, how do people like to have their error? than,
+will they go without any error at all?&nbsp; All truth and no error
+cannot be given by the scientist more than by the artist; each has to
+sacrifice truth in one way or another; and even if perfect truth could
+be given, it is doubtful whether it would not resolve itself into unconsciousness
+pure and simple, consciousness being, as it were, the clash of small
+conflicting perceptions, without which there is neither intelligence
+nor recollection possible.&nbsp; It is not, then, what a man has said,
+nor what he has put down with actual paint upon his canvass, which speaks
+to us with living language - <i>it is what he has thought to us</i>
+(as is so well put in the letter quoted on page 83), by which our opinion
+should be guided; - what has he made us feel that he had it in him,
+and wished to do?&nbsp; If he has said or painted enough to make us
+feel that he meant and felt as we should wish him to have done, he has
+done the utmost that man can hope to do.</p>
+<p>I feel sure that no additional amount of technical accuracy would
+make me more likely to succeed, in this respect, if I have otherwise
+failed; and as this is the only success about which I greatly care,
+I have left my scientific inaccuracies uncorrected, even when aware
+of them.&nbsp; At the same time, I should say that I have taken all
+possible pains as regards anything which I thought could materially
+affect the argument one way or another.</p>
+<p>It may be said that I have fallen between two stools, and that the
+subject is one which, in my hands, has shown neither artistic nor scientific
+value.&nbsp; This would be serious.&nbsp; To fall between two stools,
+and to be hanged for a lamb, are the two crimes which -</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Nor gods, nor men, nor any schools allow.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>Of the latter, I go in but little danger; about the former, I shall
+know better when the public have enlightened me.</p>
+<p>The practical value of the views here advanced (if they be admitted
+as true at all) would appear to be not inconsiderable, alike as regards
+politics or the well-being of the community, and medicine which deals
+with that of the individual.&nbsp; In the first case we see the rationale
+of compromise, and the equal folly of making experiments upon too large
+a scale, and of not making them at all.&nbsp; We see that new ideas
+cannot be fused with old, save gradually and by patiently leading up
+to them in such a way as to admit of a sense of continued identity between
+the old and the new.&nbsp; This should teach us moderation.&nbsp; For
+even though nature wishes to travel in a certain direction, she insists
+on being allowed to take her own time; she will not be hurried, and
+will cull a creature out even more surely for forestalling her wishes
+too readily, than for lagging a little behind them.&nbsp; So the greatest
+musicians, painters, and poets owe their greatness rather to their fusion
+and assimilation of all the good that has been done up to, and especially
+near about, their own time, than to any very startling steps they have
+taken in advance.&nbsp; Such men will be sure to take some, and important,
+steps forward; for unless they have this power, they will not be able
+to assimilate well what has been done already, and if they have it,
+their study of older work will almost indefinitely assist it; but, on
+the whole, they owe their greatness to their completer fusion and assimilation
+of older ideas; for nature is distinctly a fairly liberal conservative
+rather than a conservative liberal.&nbsp; All which is well said in
+the old couplet -</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p>&ldquo;Be not the first by whom the new is tried,<br />Nor yet the
+last to throw the old aside.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div>
+<p><i>Mutatis mutandis</i>, the above would seem to hold as truly about
+medicine as about politics.&nbsp; We cannot reason with our cells, for
+they know so much more than we do that they cannot understand us; -
+but though we cannot reason with them, we can find out what they have
+been most accustomed to, and what, therefore, they are most likely to
+expect; we can see that they get this, as far as it is in our power
+to give it them, and may then generally leave the rest to them, only
+bearing in mind that they will rebel equally against too sudden a change
+of treatment, and no change at all.</p>
+<p>Friends have complained to me that they can never tell whether I
+am in jest or earnest.&nbsp; I think, however, it should be sufficiently
+apparent that I am in very serious earnest, perhaps too much so, from
+the first page of my book to the last.&nbsp; I am not aware of a single
+argument put forward which is not a <i>bon&acirc; fide</i> argument,
+although, perhaps, sometimes admitting of a humorous side.&nbsp; If
+a grain of corn looks like a piece of chaff, I confess I prefer it occasionally
+to something which looks like a grain, but which turns out to be a piece
+of chaff only.&nbsp; There is no lack of matter of this description
+going about in some very decorous volumes; I have, therefore, endeavoured,
+for a third time, to furnish the public with a book whose fault should
+lie rather in the direction of seeming less serious than it is, than
+of being less so than it seems.</p>
+<p>At the same time, I admit that when I began to write upon my subject
+I did not seriously believe in it.&nbsp; I saw, as it were, a pebble
+upon the ground, with a sheen that pleased me; taking it up, I turned
+it over and over for my amusement, and found it always grow brighter
+and brighter the more I examined it.&nbsp; At length I became fascinated,
+and gave loose rein to self-illusion.&nbsp; The aspect of the world
+seemed changed; the trifle which I had picked up idly had proved to
+be a talisman of inestimable value, and had opened a door through which
+I caught glimpses of a strange and interesting transformation.&nbsp;
+Then came one who told me that the stone was not mine, but that it had
+been dropped by Lamarck, to whom it belonged rightfully, but who had
+lost it; whereon I said I cared not who was the owner, if only I might
+use it and enjoy it.&nbsp; Now, therefore, having polished it with what
+art and care one who is no jeweller could bestow upon it, I return it,
+as best I may, to its possessor.</p>
+<p>What am I to think or say?&nbsp; That I tried to deceive others till
+I have fallen a victim to my own falsehood?&nbsp; Surely this is the
+most reasonable conclusion to arrive at.&nbsp; Or that I have really
+found Lamarck&rsquo;s talisman, which had been for some time lost sight
+of?</p>
+<p>Will the reader bid me wake with him to a world of chance and blindness?&nbsp;
+Or can I persuade him to dream with me of a more living faith than either
+he or I had as yet conceived as possible?&nbsp; As I have said, reason
+points remorselessly to an awakening, but faith and hope still beckon
+to the dream.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<h2>APPENDIX - AUTHOR&rsquo;S ADDENDA</h2>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p><a name="footnote2"></a><a href="#citation2">{2}</a>&nbsp; But I
+may say in passing that though articulate speech and the power to maintain
+the upright position come much about the same time, yet the power of
+making gestures of more or less significance is prior to that of walking
+uprightly, and therefore to that of speech.&nbsp; Not only is gesticulation
+the earlier faculty in the individual, but it was so also in the history
+of our race.&nbsp; Our semi-simious ancestors could gesticulate long
+before they could talk articulately.&nbsp; It is significant of this
+that gesture is still found easier than speech even by adults, as may
+be observed on our river steamers, where the captain moves his hand
+but does not speak, a boy interpreting his gesture into language.&nbsp;
+To develop this here would complicate the argument; let us be content
+to note it and pass on.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote3"></a><a href="#citation3">{3}</a>&nbsp; Nevertheless,
+the smallness of the effort touches upon the deepest mystery of organic
+life - the power to originate, to err, to sport, the power which differentiates
+the living organism from the machine, however complicated.&nbsp; The
+action and working of this power is found to be like the action of any
+other mental and, therefore, physical power (for all physical action
+of living beings is but the expression of a mental action), but I can
+throw no light upon its origin any more than upon the origin of life.&nbsp;
+This, too, must be noted and passed over.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote4"></a><a href="#citation4">{4}</a>&nbsp; How different
+from the above uncertain sound is the full clear note of one who truly
+believes:-</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The Church of England is commonly called a Lutheran church,
+but whoever compares it with the Lutheran churches on the Continent
+will have reason to congratulate himself on its superiority.&nbsp; It
+is in fact a church <i>sui generis</i>, yielding in point of dignity,
+purity and decency of its doctrines, establishment and ceremonies, to
+no congregation of christians in the world; modelled to a certain and
+considerable extent, but not entirely, by our great and wise pious reformers
+on the doctrines of Luther, so far as they are in conformity with the
+sure and solid foundation on which it rests, and we trust for ever will
+rest - the authority of the Holy Scriptures, Jesus Christ himself being
+the chief corner stone.&rdquo;&nbsp; (&ldquo;Sketch of Modern and Ancient
+Geography,&rdquo; by Dr. Samuel Butler, of Shrewsbury.&nbsp; Ed. 1813.)</p>
+<p>This is the language of faith, compelled by the exigencies of the
+occasion to be for a short time conscious of its own existence, but
+surely very little likely to become so to the extent of feeling the
+need of any assistance from reason.&nbsp; It is the language of one
+whose convictions are securely founded upon the current opinion of those
+among whom he has been born and bred; and of all merely post-natal faiths
+a faith so founded is the strongest.&nbsp; It is pleasing to see that
+the only alterations in the edition of 1838 consist in spelling Christians
+with a capital C and the omission of the epithet &ldquo;wise&rdquo;
+as applied to the reformers, an omission more probably suggested by
+a desire for euphony than by any nascent doubts concerning the applicability
+of the epithet itself.</p>
+<p><a name="footnote5"></a><a href="#citation5">{5}</a>&nbsp; Or take,
+again, the constitution of the Church of England.&nbsp; The bishops
+are the spiritual queens, the clergy are the neuter workers.&nbsp; They
+differ widely in structure (for dress must be considered as a part of
+structure), in the delicacy of the food they eat and the kind of house
+they inhabit, and also in many of their instincts, from the bishops,
+who are their spiritual parents.&nbsp; Not only this, but there are
+two distinct kinds of neuter workers - priests and deacons; and of the
+former there are deans, archdeacons, prebends, canons, rural deans,
+vicars, rectors, curates, yet all spiritually sterile.&nbsp; In spite
+of this sterility, however, is there anyone who will maintain that the
+widely differing structures and instincts of these castes are not due
+to inherited spiritual habit?&nbsp; Still less will he be inclined to
+do so when he reflects that by such slight modification of treatment
+as consecration and endowment any one of them can be rendered spiritually
+fertile.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div>
+<p>Footnotes:</p>
+<p><a name="footnote1"></a><a href="#citation1">{1}</a>&nbsp; Although
+the original edition of &ldquo;Life and Habit&rdquo; is dated 1878,
+the book was actually published in December, 1877.</p>
+<div class="GutenbergBlankLines4"><br /><br /><br /><br /></div>
+<p>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, LIFE AND HABIT ***</p>
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