FOOTNOTES:
[24] He was elected to the Fellowship of the Royal Society in 1879.
[25] The Brit. Assoc. Lecture, 1878.
[26] The present Master of Balliol.
[27] Now Lord Kelvin.
[28] His book entitled 'Jelly-Fish, Star-Fish, and Sea Urchins,' gives a full account of Mr. Romanes' researches on these primitive nervous systems.
[29] Diagram for a lecture on 'Mental Evolution.'
[30] See Nature, vol. xxi. p. 207.
[31] Mr. Romanes used to describe with much amusement the ludicrous nature of the experiment as seen by passers-by. He drove in a cab well into the country, released the cats, and mounted the roof of the cab in order to get a good view of the cats speeding away in different directions.
[32] A letter written at the end of April 1881.
[33] International Medical Congress.
[34] See 'Life &c. of C. Darwin,' vol. iii. p. 210.
[35] Charles Darwin: a memorial poem.
[36] A few stray poems in magazines.
[CHAPTER III]
1881-1890
LONDON—GEANIES
One may now for a short space turn away from the scientific side of Mr. Romanes' life and speak a little of other aspects.
No one was ever a more incessant worker and thinker. If he went away for a short visit, his writing went too; and if in Scotland wet weather interfered with shooting, he would sit down and write something, perhaps a poem, perhaps (as he once said playfully when condoled with on account of heavy rain and absence of books, 'I don't care, I'll write an essay on the freedom of the will') an article for a magazine.
A great deal of reviewing, chiefly in 'Nature,' filled up some of his time, and he also turned his attention more and more to poetry.
In the postscript of a letter written in 1878 to Mr. Darwin he says: 'I am beginning to write poetry!' and poetry interested him more and more as years went on. Of this, more later.
He much enjoyed society; he ceased to mingle exclusively with scientific and philosophical people, and as time went on he became acquainted with many of the notabilities of the day. And, as has been said, it is impossible perhaps to exaggerate the outward pleasantness of those years.
He was able to devote himself to his work; he had an ever-increasing number of devoted friends both of men and women, and he was intensely happy in his home life.
His children were a great and increasing interest to him, and he was an ideal father, tender, sympathetic, especially as infancy grew into childhood. He shared in all his children's interests, and lived with them on terms of absolute friendship, chaffing and being chaffed, enjoying an interchange of pet names and jokes, and yet exacting obedience and gentle manners, and never permitting them as small children to make themselves troublesome to visitors in any way, or to chatter freely at meals when guests were present.
He had very strong feelings about the importance of making children familiar with the Bible. He used to say that as a mere matter of literary education everyone ought to be familiar with the Bible from beginning to end. He himself was exceedingly well versed in Holy Scripture.
He also thought a good classical training very desirable for boys (and girls also), and had no very great belief in science being taught to any great extent during a boy's school career. Memory, he considered, ought to be cultivated in childhood, and he did not think that the reasoning powers ought to be much taxed in early years. He used to say that Euclid could be learnt much more easily if it were begun later in boyhood. He also much wished that foreign languages should be taught very early in life, and with little or no attention to grammar.
Perhaps a few words of reminiscence from one of his children may not be unwelcome.
MEMORIES.—G. J. R.
I remember that when my father was particularly amused at anything, he used a certain gesture, which, according to the 'Life of Darwin,'[37] must have been precisely similar to that of Darwin, and was probably unconsciously copied by my father. He never used the gesture except when very much tickled at hearing some amusing story; when the climax of the story was reached he would burst into a peal of hearty laughter, at the same time bringing his hand heavily but noiselessly down upon his knee or on the table near him.
When we were at Geanies, our greatest delight was 'to go out shooting with father.' We used to tramp for hours together over turnip and grass fields behind my father and the gamekeeper. We used to enjoy the expeditions so much better if our father was the only sportsman, for then we had him all to ourselves. We were very small then; our ages were ten, nine, and six respectively, but we were good walkers and we never became tired. What little sunburnt, healthy, grubby children we were to be sure! When Bango, the setter, pointed at a covey, we all had to stand quite still while our father walked forward towards the dog. Directly the covey rose we all 'ducked' for safety. I shall never forget the joy and pride we felt when a bird fell, and we ran with shouts of triumph to pick it up. Then the delight of eating lunch under a hedge or in a wood! That was a time of jokes and fun, and we talked as freely and unrestrainedly as we liked about all kinds of subjects. Then came some more tramping in the turnips, and we would journey homewards, a weary but very happy little party. The counting of the game would follow, and our pride was very great when the number of brace was high, for we felt that we had been helping our father to slay the partridges. In fact, we thought that Sandy, the gamekeeper, was a very useless personage when we went out, for did we not mark as well as, or better, than he did? And surely we could carry the game bags; they were not very heavy even when they were full to bursting!
There was something very beautiful in the respect and reverence which George Romanes felt for children and for child-life, and a sonnet 'To my Children' expresses these feelings:—
'Of all the little ones whom I have known
Ye are so much the fairest in my view—
So much the sweetest and the dearest few—
That not because ye are my very own
Do I behold a wonder that is shown
Of loveliness diversified in you:
It is because each nature as it grew
Surpassed a world of joy already grown.
If months bestow such purpose on the years,
May not the years work out a greater plan?
Vast are the heights which form this 'vale of tears,'
And though what lies beyond we may not scan,
Thence came my little flock—strayed from their spheres,
As lambs of God turned children into man.'
As has been said, for music Mr. Romanes had an absolute passion. A good concert of chamber or of orchestral music was absolute happiness to him, and he heard a great deal in these years. One or two of his friends were excellent musicians. To one of these he once wrote a sonnet, 'To a Member of the Bach Choir,'[38] and sent it to her in the form of a Christmas card, producing much pleasant mystification and laughter when it was discovered from whom the sonnet came.
To Miss Paget.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park: December 27, 1887.
Dear Miss Paget,—If my sonnet gave half as much pleasure as your note, I am sure we have both the best reasons to be glad. The letter was as much a surprise to me as the former was to you, because, far from seeing the 'ungraciousness' of yesterday, even then I thought that my reward was much in excess of my deserving. But your further response of to-day has given me a greater happiness than I can tell; let it, therefore, be told in some of the greatest words of the greatest man I ever knew. These you will find in the first nine lines of a letter on page 323, vol. ii., of the 'Life of Darwin,' and in one respect you have conferred an additional benefit, for, unlike him, I did not previously know that my own feelings of friendship were so fully reciprocated. If you think that this amounts to a confession of dulness on my part, my only excuse is that I formed too just an estimate of my own merits as compared with those of a friend. All that the latter were, or in this estimate must ever continue to be, I shall not now venture to say; for, if I did, the peculiar ethics of the Paget family (which you have been good enough to explain) would certainly pound this letter into a pulp. But there are two remarks which I may hazard. The first is, that I make it a point of what may be called æsthetic conscience never to write anything in verse which is not perfectly sincere. The next is, that my dulness is not so bad as to have prevented me from observing the Sebastian attachment.
Last Christmas I lost my greatest and my dearest friend.[39] This Christmas I have found that I had a better friend than I was aware of. For the seasonable kindness, therefore, of your truly Yule-tide consolation, gratias tibi ago.
Ever yours, most sincerely,
G. J. Romanes.
For some years a delightful society existed in London, known as the 'Home Quartet Union,' the members of which met at different houses and listened to perfect music performed by first-rate artists under perfect conditions.
There were few happier evenings in his life than those spent in such a way.
Of all composers, Beethoven represented to him everything that was highest in art or poetry; for Beethoven, Mr. Romanes had much the same reverence and admiration which he felt for Darwin, and perhaps Beethoven, in other and very different ways, taught him and influenced him much.
He was very catholic in his musical tastes, except perhaps that Italian opera never greatly fascinated him. Wagner's operas, on the other hand, became a great delight, particularly after a visit to Baireuth in 1889, where he saw Parsifal and Meistersinger.
Politics interested Mr. Romanes moderately. He was by nature and by family tradition a Conservative, but he cared very little for parties, and admired great men on whichever side of the House they sat.
Perhaps of all living politicians, the one for whom he had the greatest enthusiasm and respect was Mr. Arthur Balfour. For him, both as a politician and as a thinker, Mr. Romanes had an unbounded admiration.
EXTRACTS FROM JOURNAL[40]
Feb. 1881.—Went to Mr. Norman Lockyer. Several people, including William Black, the novelist, were there. After Mr. Lockyer had shown us several experiments in spectrum analysis, a lady asked him 'What is the use of the spectroscope?' Called on Mr. Cotter Morison and saw some beautiful books. He is a wonderfully good talker.
June 1881.—Dinner at the Spottiswoodes'. Mr. Browning was there and talked much about Victor Hugo. He mentioned that when Wordsworth was told that Miss Barrett had married Mr. Browning, he replied, 'It's a good thing these two understand each other, for no one else understands them.'
Garvock, Perthshire: November 5, 1881.
My dearest Charlotte,—I thought you would like the photos, and your letter to-day more than justifies my anticipation. Coming events cast their shadows before, and it will not now be long before you see the former. These are both exceedingly well. I wish you could see little Ethel dancing. It is now her greatest amusement, and she does it with all the state and gravity of an eighteenth century grande dame.
Many thanks for your prompt action about the proofs. You did everything in the best possible way, as I knew you would. It is a great blessing you were in London at the time, as the caretaker would be sure to have made some mistake, and time is pressing.
The duke has answered me in this week's 'Nature,' and likewise has Carpenter. I have written a rejoinder for next week's issue in a tone which I have tried to make at once dignified and blunt.
I send you a riddle which I have just made. See if you can answer it in your next.
'My first is found in Scripture,
My second hangs in air,
My third a thing to all unknown,
Yet maps can tell you where.
My whole is neither fact nor thing,
A word, yet not a word,
And if you stand me on my head,
I'm bigger by a third.'[41]
Much love from both to both.
Yours ever the same,
George.
In this Journal constant mention occurs of concerts and of the pleasure given by amateur musical friends. The late Professor Rowe's name often occurs, he succeeded Professor Clifford at University College, and besides his great mathematical attainments he was also a most accomplished musician. He played Schumann especially in the most poetic way.
Journal, Feb. 1882.—Lecture by Professor Tyndall on the action of molecular heat. Triumphant vindication of his own work against Magnus and Tait.
April 2.—Sunday, the 25th, we spent at Oxford, met the Warden of Keble in Mr. F. Paget's rooms, as a year ago we had met Dr. Liddon. Met Mr. Vernon Harcourt at Christ Church.
May.—Met Shorthouse, author of 'John Inglesant,' at the F. Pollocks'. He spoke of Mr. Scott-Holland's review of his book. Sir T. Bramwell lectured the other day at the Royal Institution on the making of the Channel tunnel, and was as amusing as usual.
June.—Interesting talk with Mr. J. R. Green. Both J. R. G. and G. J. R. agreed that Herbert Spencer, Professor Huxley, and Leslie Stephen only represented one side of the question, i.e. that conduct can only be called moral when it is beneficial to the race, and that the ethical quality of an action is determined solely by its effects as beneficial or injurious. This purely mechanical view of morality deprives morality of what both speakers considered the essential elements of morality as such, i.e. the feeling of right and wrong, so that, e.g., ants and bees, according to this canon, have a right to be considered more truly moral than men.
The view taken by J. R. G. and G. J. R. was that the essential element of morality resided in feeling and inclination.
To Miss C. E. Romanes.
18 Cornwall Terrace: June 9.
My dearest Charlotte,—We are all well and lively. Ascot and an 'at home' yesterday; to-day artists' studios, dinner at the Pagets', and Sanderson's lecture; to-morrow, College of Surgeons' reception and dinner party of our own; and next week, one, two, or three engagements for every day. 'Babylon' is in full swing, and I heard yesterday, from the head of the Census department, that for the last ten years it has been growing at the rate of 1,000 per week.
I have only time to write a few lines to thank you and the mother for the very jolly letters received this morning, and to let you know that we are all well.
The reason of my haste now is this extraordinary discovery that has been made in the Botanical Gardens, and which you have probably read about in the 'Times.' Medusæ have been found in swarms in the fresh-water tank of the Victoria Regina Lily. Such a thing as a fresh-water Medusa has never been heard of before, and I want to lose no time in getting to work upon his physiology. You see, when I don't go to the jelly-fish the jelly-fish come to me, and I am bound to have jelly-fish wherever I go.
It would have been very odd if I had been the discoverer, as I should have been had I known that there was a living Victoria Regis, for then I should have gone to see the plant, and would not have failed to see the Medusæ. Only in that case I might have begun to grow superstitious, and to think that in some way my fate was bound up in jelly-fish.
I must get to work soon because all the naturalists are in a high state of excitement, and there has been a regular scramble for priority.
The worst about this jelly-fish is that it will only live in a temperature of 90°, so I shall have to work at it in the Victoria House, which is kept at a temperature of 100°, and makes one 'sweat.' But I shall not work long at a time.
From 1882 to 1890 Mr. Romanes rented Geanies, a beautiful place overlooking the Moray Firth. It belongs to a cousin of the Romanes family, Captain Murray, of the 81st Regiment. Captain Murray's mother and sisters lived not far away, and the Murrays and Romanes formed a little coterie in that not very populous neighbourhood.
He continued to be an ardent sportsman, and probably his happiest days were those he spent tramping over moors or plodding through turnips in those October days of perfect beauty, which seem especially peculiar to Scotland.
The surroundings of Geanies, without being romantically beautiful, have a charm of their own. There is a certain melancholy and loneliness about the inland landscape round Geanies which appealed strongly to him. It is a place abounding in every kind of sea-bird, and it is almost impossible to describe the weird, uncanny effect which the long endless twilight of the summer, the silence broken by hootings of owls, by the scream of a sea-gull, produce on one.
It is an old rambling house with long passages and mysterious staircases, and, as the children found, endless conveniences for playing at hide-and-seek. The library is a most lovely room, lined with bookcases, and leading into an old-fashioned garden, full of sweet-smelling flowers.
It is impossible to imagine a more ideal abode for a poet, a naturalist, a botanist, a sportsman, than this, his summer home; and as Mr. Romanes was, to some extent, all four, Geanies was a place of exceeding happiness to him.
Two of his sonnets are dedicated to his dogs, 'To my Setters,' and 'To Countess,' and the following letter will show him as a sportsman.
GEANIES, ROSS-SHIRE
Reproduced from a photograph by Messrs. W. Smith & Co. Tain
To Mrs. Romanes.
Achalibster,[42] Caithness: August 14, 1883.
To-day turned out not at all bad after all; and although there was a good deal too much rain I had a glorious time. Bag twenty brace of grouse, one brace plover, one hare, one duck; I could easily have got more, only Bango got so tired in the afternoon that we knocked off at five o'clock, moreover I did not begin till eleven, as I did not wake till ten! So the twenty brace was shot in about five hours. The new setter 'Flora' is a beauty. She is extraordinarily like Bango, but with a prettier face. She is a splendid worker.
Even at Geanies he always 'worked' for some part of the day, and sport, tennis, boating, filled up the rest of his time.
Very often there was a house party, and the evenings were particularly bright—merry talk, games, very amateurish theatricals, learned discussions. Nothing came amiss to the master of the house. He was always a little apt to be absent-minded and dreamy, and his pet name, bestowed on him by the dearest and merriest of all the merry 'Geanies brotherhood' was 'Philosopher.' It stuck, and many people only knew him by that name.
No one ever appreciated a good story more than he, and, as a friend has said, 'his laugh was so merry and so often heard.'
His own jokes were invariably free from any unkindness, and he did not in the least appreciate repartee or epigram, the point of which lay chiefly, if not wholly, in unkindness. Many friends enlivened his summer home, and all those who paid a second visit were known as the 'Geanies brotherhood.'
Journal, Geanies, July 26.—Yesterday came the terrible news of Mr. Frank Balfour's sudden death.[43] His loss is irreparable. It is only a month since we met him at Cambridge, looking so well, quite recovered from his recent illness; we were looking forward to his promised visit.
Sept.—Mr. Lockyer, the Bruntons, and the Burdon Sandersons have been here. Memorial Poem to Darwin begun.
Nov. 14, Edinburgh.—Met for the first time Mr. and Mrs. Butcher, who were just taking possession of the Greek Chair; also Professor Blackie, who was himself, and talked much of the insolence of John Bull.
Jan. 1883.—Dr. Sanderson is elected Professor of Physiology at Oxford.
To this election was due the ultimate change in Mr. Romanes' life in 1890, when he followed Dr. Sanderson to Oxford, attracted mainly by the facilities for physiological research.
On Jan. 2 of this year (1883) his mother died.
Mr. Romanes lectured at the Royal Institution in January, and immediately afterwards went abroad on one of the only two Continental tours he took simply for pleasure. He much enjoyed this Italian journey, and the rhyming instinct woke up in him greatly. He wrote a good deal about this time, and one of his sonnets has reference to this journey—'Florence.' He also made acquaintance for the first time with a good many well-known novels, read to him during a temporary illness at Florence—the precursor, alas, of many such times of novel-reading. He shared Mr. Darwin's tastes for simple, pure, love stories, and one of the party at Florence well remembers how 'The Heir of Redclyffe' brought tears to his eyes. For this and 'The Chaplet of Pearls,' read to him some years later, he had a great admiration.
Journal, March 28, 1883.—Mr. F. Paget's wedding in St. Paul's, a special anthem by Stainer. The Warden of Keble and Dr. Liddon married them, and the whole service was very impressive.
June.—Mr. Spottiswoode's death has been a terrible blow. Service at the Abbey. We put off our party on June 27th; it seemed improper to have a party, mainly composed of scientific people, the very day after the death of the President of the Royal Society.
12th.—Dinner at the Pagets'. Met Browning,[44] who is entirely on Carlyle's side à propos of Froude's recent revelations.
15th.—Went to Professor and Mrs. Allman, at Parkston. He is a most fascinating naturalist of the old type, caring for birds, and beasts, and flowers.
Met Mr. E. Clodd the other night, who alluded to 'Physicus'[45] and the tone of depression in the book. ('Candid Examination of Theism.')
This year Mr. Romanes and Professor Ewart set up a small laboratory on the Geanies coast, and the Journal notes:
Professor Ewart could not get the farmhouse he hoped, and this was unfortunate, as he had written to the British Association and invited one or two foreigners to come and work and live in this farmhouse. In vain were the foreigners warned not to come, for one evening in walked a young Dane, who preceded a postcard he had sent announcing his arrival. Very nice, and extremely embarrassed at finding himself in a country house where people dressed for dinner.
However, he got accommodation in the neighbourhood and worked at Ascidians, but the experiment of inviting stray foreign scientists was abandoned.
Sept.—The Allmans, Turners, and Mr. Lockyer have been here, and we have been getting up some private theatricals.
Jan. 1884.—Lecture at the Royal Institution on 'the Darwinian Theory of Instinct.'
To Miss C. E. Romanes.
January 5, 1884.
I am preparing a beautiful surprise for Ethel after she comes down again. The library is to have its end wall papered and panelled, the conservatory is to be painted green, and filled with stands of flowers, and the little room is to have the window filled with stained glass, the walls, ceiling, and doors, beautifully papered and decorated. I expect my book to pay the bills. Is not this a nice idea?
Little Ethel's ideas about writing, by the way, are original. A few days ago she wanted me to play at gee-gee. I said, 'No, Ethel, father is writing.' She asked, 'Writing letters or writing book?' I said, 'Writing book.' Whereupon she made the shrewd remark—'Father not writing to anybody, father can play gee-gee.' So much for her estimate of my popularity as an author.
Journal, April.—Lecture at Manchester; stayed with Professor Boyd Dawkins.
This year Mr. Romanes attended Canon Curteis' 'Boyle Lectures' at Whitehall.
Journal, March 1883.—'G. Lectured at ——. One of the hearers asked whether in the lecturer's opinion man or animals had first appeared on the earth! G. spent a pleasant day at Bromsgrove with the F. Pagets.'
To James Romanes, Esq.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: June 1, 1884.
My dearest James,—Little Ethel has just brought me the enclosed letter to send to you. She had written it as far as the up and down lines go, and said it was to tell you how much she loved you, and how sorry she was that she should not see you when she goes to Geanies. She then asked me to tell her how to write kiss. I told her that in letters they write kiss by a cross, and then she made the crosses. She also made me promise to send you the letter at once, without any delay; and as the idea of writing you a letter was entirely her own, I do as I was told. You may take it as a definite expression of the emotions, even though it be not a very intelligible expression of ideas.
She wants to know why you are going away, and whether you will write to her when you are away, and a heap of other questions of the same kind.
We are all well now, and I am just going with the two Ethels to a children's service, which they both enjoy. It is very pretty to hear the little one singing with the other children, which she does perfectly in tune.
They are waiting for me now, so with best love from all,
Yours ever the same,
George.
In 1885 came the first warnings of ill-health. Mr. Romanes had a short but very sharp illness, and after that year he suffered frequently from gout, which necessitated visits to various foreign 'cures.' He was a perfect travelling companion, he liked to have arrangements made for him, and was never discomposed if anything went wrong, never put out by any of the ordinary mischances of travel. Although he always professed indifference to architecture and art, he would grow quite boyishly enthusiastic over some cathedral, as his sonnets to Amiens, and Christ Church, Oxford,[46] testify, and for sculpture he had a real love.
In May 1885 came the first marked public utterance which showed that Mr. Romanes was now in a very different mental attitude to that in which he wrote his 'Candid Examination of Theism.'
He delivered the Rede Lecture at Cambridge, and in it he criticises the materialistic position. (It must be remembered that his anti-Theistic book was published anonymously, and at that time he had no intention of ever referring to it.)
The reaction set in very soon after the 'Candid Examination' was published.
He was severe, as it seemed often to those who knew him best, unduly severe with himself, and often described himself as utterly agnostic when possibly 'bewildered' would have better described him.
Through these years, underneath all the outward happiness, the intense love for scientific work, there was the same longing and craving for the old belief, and before his eyes was always the question, 'Is Christian faith possible or intellectually justifiable in the face of scientific discovery?'
These years between 1879 and 1890 were years of frequent despondency, of almost despair, but also of incessant seeking after truth, and year after year he grew gradually nearer Christian belief.
The letters which follow will be interesting in this place. They arose out of a correspondence in 'Nature.'[47]
To Professor Asa Gray.
May 16, 1883.
Dear Professor Gray,—The receipt of your kind letter of the 1st instant has given me in full measure the sincerest kind of pleasure; for in the light supplied by your second letter communicated to 'Nature' I came deeply to regret my misunderstanding of the spirit in which you wrote the first one, and now you enable me to feel that we have shaken hands over the matter.
For my own part I am always glad when differences in matter of opinion admit of being honestly expressed without enmity, and still more so when, as in the present case, this discussion leads to a basis of friendship. I therefore thank you most heartily for your letter, and remain yours very truly,
G. J. Romanes.
P.S.—If you have not already happened to read a book called 'A Candid Examination of Theism,' I should like to send you a copy. I wrote it six or seven years ago and published it anonymously in 1878. I do not now hold to all the arguments, nor should I express myself so strongly on the argumentative force of the remainder, but I should like you to read the book, in order to show you how gladly I would enter your camp if I could only see that it is on the side of Truth.
December 30, 1883.
Dear Professor Gray,—I sent you my papers as a return for those which you so kindly sent to me, and for which I have written to thank you before. I quite agree with your view, that the doctrine of the human mind having been proximately evolved from lower minds is not incompatible with the doctrine of its having been due to a higher and supreme mind. Indeed, I do not think the theory of evolution, even if fully proved, would seriously affect the previous standing of this more important question.
The sorrow is, that this question is so far removed from the reach of any trustworthy answer. Or, at least, such is the sorrow if that answer when it comes is to prove an affirmative. If it is to be an eternal sleep, no doubt it is better to live as we are than in the certainty of a Godless universe. But although we cannot find any sure answer to this momentous question, I cannot help feeling that it is reasonable (although it may not be orthodox) to cherish this much faith, that if there is a God, whom, when we see, we can truly worship as well as dread, He cannot ex hypothesi be a God who will thwart the strong desire which He has implanted in us to worship Him, merely because we cannot find evidence enough to believe this or that doctrine of dogmatic Theology.
But I do not know why I should thus trouble you with my troubles, unless it is that the kindness of your letters has broken through the bars by which we usually imprison such feelings from the world. Anyhow, I thank you for that kindness, and hope you will forgive this somewhat odd requital.
Very sincerely yours,
G. J. Romanes.
'The desire to worship Him.'
These words are the key-note of the religious history of the pure and noble character which I am trying to describe.
The letters, so touching in the momentary breaking down of reserve, give, as it were, a glimpse of the inner life, give an indication of the struggle, the perplexity, the sorrow which eleven years later ended in 'Eternal Peace.'
Readers of the lately published 'Thoughts on Religion' will see how gradually he grew to perceive the reasonableness of the Christian Faith; he had never doubted the beauty, the moral worth, the attraction of that faith. And with him it was what Dante in his 'Paradiso' puts into S. Bernard's mouth:
'A quella luce cotal si diventa,
Che volgersi da lei per altro aspetto
È impossibil che mai si consenta.'
And through all these years there was a constant willingness to try to aid other people in their difficulties, to remove stumbling-blocks which hindered others. He was always willing to discuss problems of belief, always perfectly fair and candid, and there were not a few who, since his death, have spoken of the real help which he gave them. He did not drop religious observances; on Sunday in London he usually went to Christ Church, Albany Street, of which the present Bishop of St. Albans was then vicar, and for some years at Geanies he had a short Evening Service for guests and servants who could not drive ten miles to church.
This service, unless a clergyman happened to be staying at Geanies, he conducted himself, and ended it by reading a sermon. He had all his Presbyterian ancestors' love for a good discourse, and serious efforts had to be made to prevent him from reading too long a sermon.
Mozley's 'University Sermons' he liked particularly, and when these were divided, they were tolerated by his audience, who at first considered them much too long. He also read many of Dean Church's sermons.
He first knew the Dean in 1883, and although he only went very occasionally to the Deanery, he was greatly impressed by the striking personality of the great divine and scholar, whom to know was to love. The Dean's beautiful style, his great learning, his intellectual sympathy with perplexities and troubles of heart and mind, and the indefinable air of distinction which a great writer stamps on every bit of work he undertakes, all appealed to Mr. Romanes; and above and beyond all these, the almost austere loftiness of thought, the moral heights implied in Dean Church's writings, seized on the mind of one who, beyond all else, reverenced personal character and personal goodness.
He really enjoyed reading Dean Church's sermons, and they exercised much influence on him. For Newman, on the other hand, he had little liking, and indeed he never did Newman adequate justice. He had promised a friend just before his death to read more of Newman, and discover for himself the great gifts of that wonderful man, but there was not time. Only one bit of Newman's writing was dear to him, 'Lead, kindly Light.'
The following letter rose out of a conversation Mr. Romanes had with Dr. Paget, during one of the Oxford visits:
The Palace, Ely: June 15, 1886.
My dear Romanes,—I have often and anxiously thought over the question which you asked me when you were at Oxford about your boy's education, and the part which you should take in his religious training: and I would venture, with most true and affectionate gratitude for your trust, to write a few lines in partial qualification of what I then said.
I start on the ground of your own wish (for which indeed I am with all my heart thankful) that your boy's character should be fashioned after the Christian type and under the influence of Christ. And I am as anxious as ever that, even if your own estimate of the evidences of Christianity should for a long while remain as it is, your children may never, in their later years, feel that you ever taught them anything which you did not believe: on every ground I long to avoid all danger of such a thought crossing their minds. But at the same time I do long that they may be spared to the very last possible moment the knowledge that in the judgment of the mind which they, I hope, will most reverence and love, the bases of their religious trust and hope are uncertain. It is only far on in life, I think, that a man comes to realise either the vast importance of things which are not held with absolute certainty, or the mysterious and complex nature of the act of faith, and the discipline of obscurity, and the way in which real spiritual progress may be going on where the mind seems only to be holding on, as it were, with fear and trembling.
To a boy of sixteen the mere knowledge of uncertainty in his father's mind may drain all the moral cogency out of the whole conception of religion:—the very suspicion of the uncertainty may unnerve him more than the full realisation of the doubt would change his father's aim and hope in doing his duty.
And so, at the risk of paining you—believe me, I would rather have the pain than give it you—and presuming very thankfully on the wish of which you spoke, I would plead that your children might remain as long as possible in ignorance of your uncertainty and anxiety; that they should only know in a general way that the religious influences, the principles of their Godward life which they receive, are given to them by your wish—that you would have them grow up after that type, with that hope and aspiration; and I would plead that for their sakes you should suffer the pain, great as it may be, of being reticent where you long to be ever communicative, ever unreserved. You may be unspeakably thankful some day that you did so suffer:—and, whatever comes, you will be sure of your children's deepest love and gratitude, if ever they should know that this was one of your acts of self-sacrifice for them.
Please forgive me, dear Romanes, where I have written blunderingly, or given you unnecessary pain. I pray God to guide and teach and gladden both you and yours, and I am
Your affectionate friend,
Francis Paget.
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: June 24, 1886.
My dear Paget,—I should indeed require to be made of unduly sensitive material, if either the extreme kindness of your thought or the most considerate delicacy of your expression could give me pain. Pain I have, but it is of a kind that is beyond the power of friends either to mitigate or to increase.
The advice which you give accords precisely with my own view of the matter, and it is needless to say that in such an agreement I find no small degree of satisfaction. Moreover, the principles which it thus appears to be my duty to adopt are made easy for me.... So that on the whole it does not now appear to me that in its practical aspects the problem is likely to prove difficult of solution; although theoretically, or as a matter of ethics, I do think it is a complex question whether (or how far) parents should teach dogmas as facts, or matters of faith as matters of knowledge. Happily, however, ethics are to morals very much what shadow is to sunshine; and in seeking to follow the right or the good, instinct is often a better guide than syllogism.
And now, in conclusion, let me endeavour—inadequately as it must be—to express my deep sense of gratitude to you for having so earnestly taken my troubles into your consideration. I assure you that your letter has touched me truly, and that on its account I am more than ever happy to subscribe myself
Your affectionate friend,
Geo. J. Romanes.
Journal says:—
April 12, 1885.—Went with the Church family to St. Paul's and heard a fine sermon from Dr. Liddon. He spoke very touchingly of Lady Selborne's death, and also alluded to Max Müller's new book.
Have been to Pfleiderer's Hibbert Lectures.[48] We met Pfleiderer the other day, and he described a Sunday in which he had tried to study English religious life. Spurgeon, Parker, and, I think, Stopford Brooke or Haweis, I forget which, he took as samples! Pfleiderer also went to St. Paul's on the day the Bishop of Lincoln[49] was consecrated, and as he got within earshot he heard Dr. Liddon's silvery voice pronouncing his own name not with approval.
Geanies, August.—Mr. Cotter Morison is here, and is most amusing. Mr. Horsburgh asked two comic riddles: 'Why are men like telescopes and women like telegrams?'
Men are like telescopes, because they are made to be drawn out and shut up; and women are like telegrams because they far exceed the males (mails) in intelligence.
G. fiddled at an amateur concert at Tain.
Mr. F. Galton is here. He told us an amusing child's question: 'How did sausages get along when they were alive?'
To Miss C. E. Romanes.
Geanies, Ross-shire: November 7, 1885.
The two Ethels left this afternoon minus their luggage and luncheon, which arrived at the station with the dog-cart just as the train was leaving. Pathetic it was to see their hungry eyes looking at the neat luncheon basket from the train windows! We are all well here. L—— is here. He has now fired his first hundred cartridges, and has nothing to show but a brace of cats which he took a pot shot at in the trees.
November 12.
I am now playing at the last day in the old house, and doing so in the library all by myself. L—— left this morning, and we all leave to-morrow. Gerald now leads me from one room to another, and after opening the door and looking round each says, 'All gone!'
I have somewhat relieved the monotony of my solitary life by buying a horse. This you will no doubt think is a purchase well timed and thus worthy of a philosopher. For six months at least I shall have to pay for his keep, and never have a chance of a single bit of use for him all that time. Yet, strange to say, I think I have made a good bargain.
Nov., Edinburgh.—Dined at Dalmeny. We met Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone, and also Lieutenant Greely, of Arctic fame.
Nov., London.—Dinner with the F. Galtons, and met the Leckys and other nice people. Mr. Galton says the study of statistics fascinates him just as skating on thin ice does some people—it's so perilous.
Returning for a little while to the scientific work of these years, one may say that they were chiefly devoted to the more philosophical side of his work as a naturalist.
'Animal Intelligence,' 'Mental Evolution in Animals,' appeared respectively in 1881 and 1883, and are works designed to prove that the law of evolution is universal, and applies to the mind of man as well as to his bodily organisation.
Mr. Romanes read widely and observed much, and no one less deserved the charge of writing without observing, or of being a 'paper philosopher.' Both these books abound in stories of animals, and are full of interest for anyone caring at all for 'beasts,' quite apart from the special object of the books.
Lecturing and reviewing were, so to speak, pastimes to him, and gave him little trouble. One lecture given at the Royal Institution on 'The Mental Differences between Men and Women' drew upon the head of the unlucky lecturer a great storm of indignation—why, the writer of this memoir has never been able to discover.
In May 1886, Mr. Romanes read a paper before the Linnean Society on 'Physiological Selection, an additional suggestion on the origin of species.' This paper was the outcome of many years' study of the philosophy of evolution, during which time he had gradually been coming to the conclusion that natural selection cannot be regarded as the sole guiding factor in the production of species, but that there must be some other cause at work in directing the course of evolution.
The theory of natural selection rests on two classes of observable facts: first, that all plants and animals are engaged in a perpetual struggle for existence, there being in every generation of every species a great many more individuals born than can possibly survive; and secondly, that the offsprings, although closely resembling the parent form, do present individual variations. It follows, therefore, that those individuals presenting variation in any way beneficial to them in the struggle for existence will survive as being the fittest to do so, Nature, so to speak, selecting certain individuals of each generation, enabling them not only to live themselves, but also to transmit their favourable qualities to their offspring. If a special line of variation is in some way preserved, there may result a variety so fixed and so distinct from the parent and collateral related forms as to constitute a separate species.
Further, since the environment (i.e. the sum total of the external conditions of life) is continually changing, it follows that natural selection may slowly alter a type in adaptation to the slowly changing environment, and if in any case the alterations effected are sufficient in amount to lead naturalists to name the result a distinct species, then natural selection has transmuted one specific type into another.
Mr. Romanes pointed out that the theory of natural selection only accounts for such organic changes as are of use to the species—by use signifying life-preserving—that it is, in fact, a theory of the origin and cumulative development of adaptations, whether these be distinctive of species, or of genera, families, classes, &c.
The question then arises, do species differ from species solely in points of a useful character, as they undoubtedly should do if natural selection has been the sole factor in their formation? Investigation shows that systematists recognise a species by a collection of characters, the value of a character depending not on its utility, but upon its stability; in fact, a large proportional number of specific characters, such as minute details of structure, form, and colour, are wholly without meaning from a utilitarian point of view. Investigation further shows that the most general of all the 'notes' of a true species is cross-infertility, that is, the infertility of the offspring of two individuals belonging to separate species: this, it was urged, could not be due to the action of natural selection. Lastly, apart from the primary distinction of cross-infertility, and the inutility of so many of the secondary specific distinctions, neither of which can be explained by the action of natural selection, Mr. Romanes was strongly of the opinion that even if a beneficial variation did arise, the swamping effects of free intercrossing would reabsorb it, and so render evolution of species in divergent lines, as distinguished from linear transmutation, impossible. This last difficulty can only be met by assuming that the same beneficial variation arises in a number of individuals simultaneously, for which assumption our present knowledge furnishes no warrant. If natural selection is brought forward as the sole factor in the guidance of organic evolution, then he considered that these difficulties remain insurmountable; if, however, it is regarded as a factor, even the chief factor, then these difficulties vanish, it being consistent, in the latter case, to hold the other factor, or factors, responsible for an explanation of the difficulties in question. It was the object of this paper to suggest another factor in the formation of species, which, although independent of natural selection, was in no way opposed to it, and might be called supplementary to it, and was at the same time capable of explaining the facts, of the inutility of many specific characters, the cross-infertility of allied species, and the non-occurrence of free intercrossing. Very briefly indicated, Mr. Romanes' line of argument is as follows:—Every generation of every species presents an enormous number of variations, of which only the ones that happen to be useful are preserved by natural selection. The useless variations are allowed to die out immediately by intercrossing.
Consequently, if intercrossing be prevented, there is no reason why unuseful variations should not be perpetuated by heredity quite as much as useful ones when under the nursing influence of natural selection. Thus, if from any cause, a section of a species is prevented from intercrossing with the rest of its parent form, it is to be expected that new varieties—for the most part of a trivial and unuseful kind—should arise within that section, and in time pass into new species. This supposition is borne out by the nature of the flora and fauna of oceanic islands, which are particularly rich in peculiar species, and where intercrossing was, of course, prevented with the original parent forms by the action of the geographical boundaries.
However, closely allied species are not always, or even generally, separated by geographical boundaries, and the cross-infertility remains to be explained. The cardinal feature of Mr. Romanes' theory is that the initial step in the origin of species is the arising of this infertility as an independent variation, by which, free intercrossing with the parent form on a common area is prevented, and specific differentiation rendered possible. Innumerable varieties are known to occur which do not pass into distinct species, the reason being that this initial variation, that is, incipient infertility whereby the swamping effects of intercrossing might be obviated, was lacking, and the variations became re-absorbed. That is, given any degree of sterility towards the parental form which does not extend to the varietal form, then a new species must take its origin. Without the bar of sterility, in Mr. Romanes' opinion, free intercrossing must render the formation of species impossible. Mutual sterility is thus the cause, not the result, of specific differentiation. As regards the occurrence of this initial variation, the reproductive system is known to be highly variable, its variability taking the form either of increased fertility, or of sterility in all degrees, and depending on either extrinsic causes (changes of food, climate, &c.), or on an intrinsic cause arising in the system itself.
From the nature of this additional factor at work in the formation of species, Mr. Romanes called his theory 'physiological selection.'
Physiological selection is conceived of as co-operating with natural selection, the former allowing the latter to act by interposing its law of sterility, with the result that the secondary specific characters may be either adaptive or non-adaptive in character.
To Miss C. E. Romanes.
Aix-les-Bains: May 1886.
The Linnean Society paper went off admirably. There was a larger attendance than ever I saw there before. But this may have been partly due to the president (Lubbock) having had a paper down for the same evening. He was considerate enough to withdraw it at the last moment so as to leave all the evening for mine. I spoke for an hour and a half, and the discussion lasted another hour. The paper itself I have brought with me here, and am now putting the last touches upon it.
Probably I shall have to try the rat experiment again, if the young ones show no signs of piebalding. But look at them occasionally to see.
There would be no use in getting the parrot to make a gesture sign at the same time as he makes a verbal one; for, as you say, he would only show that he can establish an association between a phrase and a thing (whether object, quality, or action), and about this there is no question. The question is whether he can use verbal signs, not only as stereotyped in phrases (when they are really equivalent to only one word), but as movable types, which he can transpose for the purpose of expressing different ideas with the same words.
He writes concerning a Junior Scientific Society which had a meeting to discuss his theory:
'The meeting was the best fun imaginable, the paper was merely a statement of my theory by a young man who made it very clear. —— got up and expressed disapproval of the theory, but expressly declined to argue, so I had merely to give him some chaff. The young men highly enjoyed it. Afterwards they were enthusiastic in their applause.
'I have no doubt, if I had not been present, the class would have had a very different impression both of me and my theory.'
To Professor Meldola.
Geanies: September 16, 1886.
Dear Professor Meldola,—Physiological selection seems to have brought a regular nest of hornets about my head. If I had known there was to have been so much talk about it at the British Association I should have gone up to defend the new-born. If you were there, can you let me know the main objections that were urged? It seems to me there is a good deal of misunderstanding abroad, due, no doubt, to the insufficiency with which my theory has been stated. In 'studying' the paper, therefore, please keep steadily in view that the backbone of the whole consists in regarding mutual sterility as the cause (or at least, the chief condition) instead of the result of specific differentiation. This is just the opposite view to that now held by all evolutionists, and, I believe, by Darwin himself. (See 'Origin,' pp. 245-246; 'Variation,' ii. pp. 171-175.) Now, if this view be sound, my theory is obviously not restricted to any one class of causes that may induce mutual sterility. Such cases may be either extrinsic or intrinsic as regards the reproductive system; they may be either direct in their action on that system or indirect (e.g. natural selection, or use and disuse, &c., producing morphological changes elsewhere, which in turn react on that system); therefore these causes may act either on a few or on many individuals. Yet Wallace does not seem to see this, but argues in the 'Fortnightly' that they can only act on an individual here and there.
I sincerely hope you will give your attention to the subject, because the great danger I now fear is prejudice against the theory on account of people not taking the trouble to understand it. How absurd ——, for example, giving that quotation from 'Origin' in 'Nature,' as evidence of Mr. Darwin's having considered the theory. Read with its context, the passage is arguing (much against the writer's desire) that variations in the way of sterility with parent forms cannot be seized upon (or perpetuated as specific distinctions) by natural selection. But physiological selection says that such variations do not require to be seized upon by natural selection. Therefore, so far as the passage in question proves anything, it tends to show that nothing could have been further from the mind of the writer than a theory which would have rendered his whole argument superfluous, and I can scarcely believe that if the theory of physiological selection had ever occurred to him, he would not have mentioned it, if only to state his objections to it, as he has done with regard to so many ideas of a much less feasible character.
I write at length because I value your judgment more than that of almost anybody else upon a subject of this kind, and therefore I should like it to be given with your eyes open. Prejudice at first there must be, but there need not be misunderstanding; and private correspondence shows me that the theory has already struck root in some of the best minds who do understand it. Any explanation, therefore, will be gladly given you by
Yours very truly,
Geo. J. Romanes.
To F. Darwin, Esq.
Geanies: November 5, 1886.
Dear Darwin,—I am much interested by the enclosed, and therefore much obliged to you for letting me see it. But it would have been made a better 'answer' if it had gone on to say something about the relation of such an experiment (supposing it successful) to the question of originating a species. Some weeks ago I was planning with a friend a closely analogous experiment, but designed to produce a 'family' which would be sterile towards the majority of the parent form, or not only towards one other 'family.' And it seemed to me that if this could be done it would amount to the artificial creation of a new species by conscious selection of a physiological kind.
But, as far as I can gather from the enclosed, the idea seems to be that of experimenting on the conditions leading to sterility; not that of regarding sterility, however conditional, as itself the condition of specific divergence. In other words, the passage seems to go upon the supposition that sterility is the result and not the cause of specific divergence. But if so, I do not see that it affects the question whether he ever contemplated the latter possibility.
I have just received Seebohm's British Association paper, which, except when it repeats Wallace's objection about the doctrine of chances, elsewhere curiously contradicts all the points in his criticism.
The editor of the 'Fortnightly' tells me that a further delay has arisen in bringing out my reply, on account of Wallace desiring to answer it. For my own part I think that all this fire of criticism at the present juncture is a mistake. As yet the theory is only a 'suggestion,' and, until tested, there can be no adequate data for forming a definite opinion.
Therefore I regret the published opposition—those who are in favour do not publish only because it may tend to choke off co-operation in carrying out the experiments; and it was for the sake of securing assistance in so laborious a research that I published the suggestion in outline.
I wonder who Catchpole is? His answer in 'Nature' to Wallace won't do.
Yours very truly,
Geo. J. Romanes.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 7, 1887.
Dear Darwin,—Some time ago you write that I ought to read a book or paper by Jordan about varieties in relation to sterility. I cannot find any book or paper of his at the L.S. library which treats of this subject; could you give me the name of his essay?
I am making arrangements for trying whether there are any degrees of sterility to be found between well-marked and constant varieties of plants. But as I have never done anything in the way of hybridising, perhaps you would be good enough to let me know whether the enclosed plan of experimenting represents the full and proper way of going to work. I know that you do not believe in the object of it, but, even supposing it to be a wild goose chase, there would be no harm in your telling me the best way to run. Then, whether the results prove positive or negative, it will not be open for any one to doubt them on the ground of any fault in the method.
Do any objections occur to you re my answer to critics in the 'Nineteenth Century'? Of course I might have said more about the swamping effects of free intercrossing (which appears to me the only point in which I deviate at all from the 'Origin of Species'), but it is much too large a subject to be dealt with in a review. My greatest difficulty here is to conceive the possibility of differentiation (as distinguished from transmutation in linear series) without the assistance of isolation in some form or another.
Yours very truly,
Geo. J. Romanes.
Dear Darwin,—Criticism of an intelligent kind is what I feel most in need of, and therefore it is no merit on my part to like it when it comes.
The point about the combined action of natural and physiological selection is, after all, a very subordinate one, and, as I said in 'Nature' some weeks ago, is the most highly speculative and least trustworthy part of the theory. Moreover, it is the only part that is directly opposed to an expressed conclusion in the 'Origin,' though, even here, the opposition is not real. If natural selection can do anything at all in the way of bringing about sterility with parent forms, it can only do so by acting on the type or whole community (for I quite agree with the reasoning in the 'Origin,' that it cannot do so by acting on individuals); and whether natural selection could in any case act on a type is a question which your father has told me he could never quite make up his mind about, except in the case of social hymenoptera and moral sense of man.
You will see what I mean by 'secondary variations' by looking at page 366 of my paper. It is merely a short-hand expression for all other specific differences save the sexual difference of sterility. My view is that these secondary differences are always sure to arise sooner or later in some direction or another wherever a portion of a species is separated from the rest, whether by geographical or physiological isolation, which, indeed, as regards the former, is no more than you (following Weismann, &c.) acknowledge. Now, to me it seems obvious that Weismann's 'variations' (i.e. slight changes in the form of shells) cannot possibly be themselves my 'physiological sports,' although they may very well be the consequences of such a sport leading to physiological isolation, and so to independent variation in two or three directions simultaneously, till afterwards blended by intercrossing. And my reason for thinking this is that 'Weismann's variations' always arose in crops at enormously long intervals of time. On the mere doctrine of chances it therefore becomes impossible to suppose that each of these variations was due to a separate physiological sport, although it is easy to see how each crop of them might have been so. For, if not, why should they always have arisen in crops, each member of which was demonstrably fertile with the other members of that crop, while no less demonstrably sterile with the original parent form? Therefore, what I see in these facts is precisely what, upon my theory, I should expect to see, viz. first, a 'primary variation,' or 'physiological sport,' arising at long intervals; secondly, closely following upon this, a crop of 'secondary variations' in the way of slight morphological changes affecting two or three different 'strains' simultaneously; and thirdly, an eventual blending of these strains by intercrossing with one another without being able to intercross with the surrounding and (at first) very much more numerous parent form.
But I can now quite understand why you thought these facts were 'dead against' me; you thought that every single slight change of morphology must (on my theory) have had a separate 'physiological sport' to account for it. This, however, most emphatically is not my theory. Physiological isolation I regard as having morphological consequences precisely analogous to those of geographical isolation; and you would not think of arguing that there must be a separate geographical isolation for every slight change of structure—for example, that a peculiar species of plant growing on a mountain top must have had one isolation to explain its change of form, and another isolation to explain its change of colour.
Lastly, if you will look up Hilgendorf's paper about these snails of Steinheim, I think you will find it impossible to suppose that all these little changes (thus arising at long intervals in crops) can have been useful. Or, if you can still doubt, look up the closely analogous but much larger case of the ammonites investigated by Neumayr and Wurtenberger.
What I meant about the sexual system being specially liable to variation is, that it is specially liable to variation in the way of sterility. In other words, changed conditions of life more readily effect variations in the primary functions of the sexual system than they do in general morphology. But at the same time, I quite agree with your view that in the last resort all changes of structure may be regarded as due to variations of this system. And, as you will see by turning to pp. 371-72 of my paper, important capital is made out of this doctrine.
Now about making too much of the inutility of specific characters; if I do so, it is erring on the side of natural selection; for it clearly follows from this theory that, if there are any useless structures at all, they ought to occur with (greater?) frequency among species, where (as?) yet natural selection has not had time to remove them. But I cannot think I have here unduly favoured natural selection. For although there are not a few instances of apparently useless structures running through even an entire class (as the 'Origin' remarks), these are not only infinitely less numerous than apparently useless structures in species, but are also very much more rarely trivial.
Now the latter fact, coupled with that of the greatly wider range of their occurrence, appears to me intensely to strengthen 'the argument from ignorance,' i.e. to give us much more justification for believing that they are now, or once were, of use. For in the case of species, the 'once were' possibility is virtually excluded.
A propos to this point, I do not believe that anyone yet has half done justice to natural selection in respect of its action subsequent to the formation of species—at least, not expressly. But I must shut up.
I should greatly like to see Jordan's paper. Sir J. Hooker and Professor Oliver have sent me references to literature, but neither of them mention this.
Why my answer to Wallace has not appeared in this month's 'Fortnightly' I am at a loss to understand. The editor bullied me with letters and telegrams to have it ready in time, till I laid everything else aside, and sent him back the proof on the 15th.
This new theory roused the public interest (so far as the scientific public were concerned) and produced much criticism.
There is a scientific orthodoxy as well as a theological orthodoxy 'plus loyal que le roi,' and by the ultra-Darwinians. Mr. Romanes was regarded as being strongly tainted with heresy.
The 'Times' devoted a leader in August 1886 to the theory, and the president of Section D at the British Association at Bath in the same month also criticised it.
A sharp discussion took place in the columns of 'Nature,' and it is characteristic of those who took the chief part in this controversy that their friendly relations remained undisturbed. Mr. Wallace criticised the theory in the 'Fortnightly,' and Mr. Romanes wrote an article in the 'Nineteenth Century' describing his beliefs on the subject. This theory was very close to his heart, and perhaps no part of his work was left unfinished with more keen regret.
He planned a course of experiments on plants in an alpine garden which, through the kindness of M. Correvon, Professor of Botany at Geneva, he was able to begin on a plot of ground near Bourg St. Pierre, on the great St. Bernard.
Other work diverted him a good deal from this, but Mr. Romanes had always large plans of work, looking forward through a course of years.
There were some experiments on the power dogs possess of tracking by scent, in the autumn of 1886.
With this year came the appointment to a Lectureship in the University of Edinburgh on 'The Philosophy of Natural History.'[50] This lectureship Mr. Romanes held for five years, and he enjoyed the fortnight's residence in Edinburgh it involved, and the meetings with Edinburgh people. He gave to his class a course on the History of Biology, and then proceeded to take them through a course of lectures on the Evidences of Organic Evolution, on the theories of Lamarck, of Mr. Darwin himself, and on post-Darwinian theories. These lectures he worked up into the three years' course he gave as Fullerian Professor at the Royal Institution, with many additions and alterations. The substance of them now appears in 'Darwin and after Darwin,' parts i. and ii. A third volume was to have been devoted to Physiological Selection, and enough was prepared in the form of notes to justify publication.
At the end of 1886 there fell on the Romanes family a bitter sorrow. Of the Geanies 'brotherhood,' the brightest and merriest, a remarkably handsome, joyous girl, absolutely unselfish and sweet, most dearly loved and loving, was the first to die. Her death was a terrible sorrow not only to her own immediate circle of relations, but to the friends to whom she had been as a very dear sister. On Mr. Romanes this death, so sudden and so startling, made a deep and lasting impression. From this time more and more he turned in the direction of faith, and his feelings found an outlet in poetry more frequently and more effectually than before.
To Miss C. E. Romanes.
Edinburgh: Christmas Day, 1886.
My dearest Charlotte,—The time has come when it is some relief to write, but how shall I begin to tell the sadness of the saddest tragedy that has ever been put together? First the hours of fluctuating hope, and then the growing darkness of despair. She had previously asked whether Ethel and G. J.[51] had come down from London, and on being told that we were in the house was so glad. We were admitted at night, and only had to watch for three hours the peaceful breathing, slower, slower, slower, until the last. Oh, the unearthly beauty of that face! Nothing I have ever seen in flesh or in marble—nothing I could have ever conceived could approach it. But try to picture it as you knew it in life changed into something so yet more beautiful that it seemed no longer human, but the face of the angel that she was. Then in one room her little child, in another her mother, utterly broken by illness. For my own part I have never had a grief so great as this. Even in our sister's case there were elements of mitigation; but here absolutely none. Oh, it is bitter, bitter; so much of life's happiness emptied out and Edith, our own Edith, no longer here!
In memory of this friend Mr. Romanes wrote a little poem called 'To a Bust,' and from this a few lines are given.
There is one point to which the writer of this memoir would like to call attention.
Mr. Romanes was incapable of exaggeration, of writing for effect, of insincerity. What he wrote he felt, and his very simplicity and sweetness of character, his childlike trust in the sympathy of others, made him unreserved to his friends, to those whom he loved.
'Upon that Christmas Eve
We saw thee pass away,
We heard the music of thy parting breath;
We saw a light of angels in thy face—
A beauty so ineffable, that Death
Was changed into a minister of Grace:
The mountains in their autumn hues,
Of mountain reds and mountain blues,
With heather and with highland bells,
Await thy step on hills and fells;
The spongy peat and dewy moss
Remember where we used to cross—
Remember how they loved thy tread,
Make for thy steps their softest bed:
The murmuring streams are calling thee,
The woodlands sigh in every tree;
Yet when I walk upon the shore,
The waves are whispering—nevermore!
Mournfully, mournfully whispering, they,
Whispering, whispering every day,
Thy soul in their waters, thy breath in their spray,
Thy spirit still speaking in all that they say.
They knew thee well, those weedy rocks,
And now they rear their rugged blocks
When I pass by,
To ask me why
They never feel thy tender hands;
And all the yellow of the sands
Is spread to greet
Thy tireless feet,
Which loved to walk them when the tide was low.
Now when I walk alone,
To hear the ocean moan,
The sea-birds circling round
Sweep almost to the ground,
And peep and pry above my head to know
Why thou dost never come,
To watch them flying home,
Upon the purple breast,
Where daylight sinks to rest.'
The Journal 1887, 1888, and 1889 is full of mention of pleasant dinners and meetings with interesting people. Young as Mr. Romanes was, he attained long before he died 'that which should accompany old age—honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,' and as one turns over the brief records of the Journal one is struck with the brightness of his outward life. He enjoyed constant pleasant intercourse with men and women differing widely in pursuits, in opinions, in social position; he was full of plans for work, work which led him into many different phases of intellectual life, and he had every year an admixture of country life and country pursuits, and the love for music and for poetry, which increased each year, kept him from growing too absorbed in science, from being at all one-sided. He used sometimes to say he had too many interests, but be that as it may, these interests gave him much enjoyment and made him the most delightful of companions.
A dear friend wrote of him after his death that 'In the home few men have been more surrounded by love, or have better deserved it,' and few men have been more loved by those outside his home. He had an unlimited capacity for loyal, true-hearted friendship. As one most truly said, 'Romanes was the most loyal of friends.'
There was something womanly in the tenderness which he felt for anyone in trouble of mind or body, and he was—what perhaps is even more rare—always ready to put aside his own work to help other people. He never grudged time or trouble to write letters or testimonials; he was always ready to go and see people who were sad or lonely; he was never too busy to be kind. He was intensely loved by those who served him, and few have been better served. There were very few changes in his household, and no one was ever more unwilling to give needless trouble, to find fault without cause, than he, or more ready to be really grateful for the ungrudging and loving and devoted service he received. 'You were the nicest master I ever served,' wrote a gamekeeper. 'To think I have lived for fifteen years with him and never heard a cross word,' was said the day he was taken from his home. In money matters he was generous and almost lavish in readiness to give and also to lend.
In Mr. Romanes there was a certain chivalrous temper which could be roused to strong indignation where it was encountered by injustice and oppression, and the following letter to the 'Times' is one of many such:
To the Editor of the 'Times.'
Sir,—On several previous occasions I have been instrumental in obtaining remission of grievous sentences at the police-courts by simply drawing attention in your correspondence columns to the cases as they appear in your police reports. Adopting this course, I think that the following, which appeared in your issue of the 29th ult., requires some explanation:
'At Wandsworth, James Clarke, aged 17, a weakly-looking lad, residing at Byegrove Road, Mitcham, was charged with stealing two turnips, value 3d., growing in a field belonging to Mr. H. Bunce, at Merton. The prosecutor having lost a quantity of produce, Police Constable Whitty was set to watch the property, and saw the prisoner pull the turnips and put them in his pocket. The accused said he had had nothing to eat all day, and being very hungry, he took the turnips! A previous conviction was proved against him for felony, and he was now committed by Mr. Denman for six weeks' hard labour.'
One would like to possess a good large field of turnips, where each turnip can be fairly valued at 1½d. But, taking this as the true value of the particular turnips in question, it appears that a starving man is now serving a week's hard labour for every half-penny's worth of the cheapest possible kind of food that he could steal. It is, of course, very right that he should have received some measure of punishment, if only as a warning to others in the neighbourhood; but the measure of punishment which he did receive seems, in the face of the matter, monstrous. We are not told what was the 'felony' for which this 'weakly-looking lad' was previously convicted; but, at any rate, we do know that on the present occasion his theft was not for any purpose of gain. It must have been, as he said, merely to alleviate the pains of hunger, for otherwise he would have carried some more capacious receptacle than either his pockets or his stomach. On the whole, therefore, I say—and say emphatically—this case demands some explanation.
I am, Sir, yours, &c.,
LL.D.
He was always ready to listen to what younger men (and women) had to say, to talk to them about his own subjects, his own work, to draw out their abilities, to discuss their difficulties. What Mr. Lionel Tollemache has written of Professor Owen is not less applicable to him:
'His innate modesty enabled him, when speaking upon his own subject, so to let himself down to the level of the ordinary listeners that they not only felt quite at their ease with him, but fancied for the moment that they were experts like himself.'
Journal, Jan. 1888.—Met Mr. Burne-Jones at the Humphry Wards', and had much interesting talk anent Rossetti. Burne-Jones said Rossetti was like an emperor; his voice was that of a king who could quell his subjects. Also that he had a wonderful memory for metre, but that Swinburne's is better still, inasmuch as he can remember prose. On one occasion Swinburne recited to Burne-Jones several pages of Milton's prose which he had read once twenty years previously. Burne-Jones went on to say that Rossetti worked a great deal at his poetry, and added, 'That's what you can do with words, worry them as much as you like, but you can't tease a picture.'
March 9.—Mr. Leslie Stephen lectured on Coleridge most admirably.
To Miss C. E. Romanes.
18 Cornwall Terrace: March 1, 1888.
My dearest Charlotte,—I find that neither of us wrote yesterday, so I have two of your letters to answer to-day.
You certainly seem to be having much the best time of it as regards weather. Every week and every day here is worse than the last—the month which has just ended having been the most savage February in the memory of living Londoners. You will have seen that poor Cotter Morison has not survived it. He died last Sunday, just too soon to see his son, who had been telegraphed home from India. He had a great desire to live long enough to have had this meeting, and it seems hard that when he struggled on so long and painfully at the end, that he should just have missed it.
For Mr. Morison Mr. Romanes had a great regard, and his death was a real sorrow.
Journal.—Sir F. Bramwell lectured on the 'Faults of the Decimal System,' calling it a lecture without a point. He was killingly amusing. Dinner at Sir H. Thompson's, met Mr. J. Froude, Hannen, and others.
We met the author of 'The New Antigone' the other night at the Lillys'. He reviewed 'Mental Evolution in Man' in a R.C. paper the other day; according to him it's the Gospel of Dirt! Last Sunday we went to hear Spurgeon; of his personal goodness there is no doubt.
May 14.—Stayed in Christ Church with the Pagets. G. had a most interesting talk with Aubrey Moore. [Mr. Romanes had already, at the Aristotelian Society, met Mr. Aubrey Moore.] Lunched on Sunday with the Max Müllers. He showed us a letter from Mr. Darwin most characteristic in its humility and sweetness.
May 20.—Very fine sermon from Mr. Scott-Holland on the Evidence of the Gospels. Tea at the Deanery, and G. had a little talk with the Dean.
There are frequent mentions now of Mr. Scott-Holland, whom Mr. Romanes often went to hear.
In 1888 appeared 'Mental Evolution in Man.'
To Miss C. E. Romanes.
Cornwall Terrace: May 18, 1888.
My own book is certain to make a 'commotion,' if not among 'the angels' in heaven,[52] at least among 'the saints' upon earth. One of these same saints has been behaving outrageously in print, and everybody is full either of jubilation or indignation at what he has been writing about Darwin and Darwinism. F. Darwin asked me to do the replying, and to-day I am returning proof of an article for the 'Contemporary Review.'
I am ashamed to have been so long in writing, but the truth is that, notwithstanding having put down Finis to my M.S., other things occurred to me to add, which required recasting some of the chapters, and so I have been fighting against time, and am still.
It will not be long now before you have the children.
They are looking forward with great glee to Dunskaith; but you must take care that they do not make it too lively. I never saw such nice children myself, but James may find them over-noisy when they are particularly high-spirited. His godson is the most comical chap that ever was born. He has a passion for what he calls 'loaded matches,' i.e. matches unused, and so ready to 'go off.' Yesterday his fingers were found to be burnt. Asked as to the cause, he said he had lighted some loaded matches and held his fingers in the flames so as to see if he could 'keep back crying.' This he seems to have done to his own satisfaction, and now wants to prove his prowess in public. Little Ethel was found bathed in tears a few days ago in a room by herself, and the grief turned out to have been on account of the death of the Emperor.[53]
You ask how the lectures are 'going on.' They are 'going on' rather too well. Owing to Schäfer having been taken ill with bronchitis, I agreed to relieve him of some engagements he had entered into for giving lectures to a Highgate Institution. Consequently I had to give two lectures on Tuesday (in the afternoon at the Institution, and in the evening at Highgate), and another yesterday, besides attending Council meetings, &c. The Institution lectures give much more satisfaction than I anticipated, as I thought the historical character of this year's course would appeal but to a small number of people. But the audience keeps up to between one hundred and two hundred very steadily (usually one hundred and fifty), and is in part made up of outsiders. But I shall not be sorry when they are over, as it will leave me more time for better work.
I am sorry that there still continue to be so many ups and downs in your daily reports.[54] The case is, indeed, dreadfully tedious. How would you like me to run down to see you after my lectures are over?
I enclose a photo which has just come from a man who is photographing the Royal Society.
We are all well and flying about in all directions. Such a time for dinners and concerts and all manner of things; it is a wonder that we are living at all, as old Jean[55] used to say.
To J. Romanes, Esq.
March 15, 1889.
I am glad you think so well of what I write, for it often seems to me that, amid so many distractions and in so many directions, I work to very little purpose. The 'Guardian' reviewer[56] has written to me a private letter, from which it appears that he is a man I know very well. He is Aubrey Moore, of Oxford, and is considered one of the ablest men there. I enclose his letter, which I failed to send before.
It is indeed a change for you to like being nursed, and perhaps not altogether a bad one from the character point of view. The only 'explanation' I can give is that of the 'adaptation of the organism to changed conditions of life.'
About this time Mr. Romanes drew up a paper, which is given here, as it may interest some readers.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, London, N.W.
Dear Sir or Madam,—While engaged in collecting materials for a work on Human Psychology, I have been surprised to find the greatness of the differences which obtain between different races, and even between different individuals of the same race, concerning sentiments which attach to the thoughts of death. With the view, if possible, of ascertaining the causes of such differences, I am addressing a copy of the appended questions to a large number of representative and average individuals of both sexes, various nationalities, creeds, occupations, &c. It would oblige me if you would be kind enough to further the object of my inquiry by answering some or all of these questions, and adding any remarks that may occur to you as bearing upon the subject.
In order to save unnecessary trouble, I may explain that, in the event of your not caring to answer any of the questions, I shall not expect you to acknowledge this letter; and that, if you should reply, answers to many of the questions may be most briefly furnished by underlining the portion of each, which by its repetition would serve to convey your answer.
It is needless to add that the names of my correspondents will not be published.
I am yours very faithfully,
George J. Romanes.
(1) Do you regard the prospect of your own death (A) with indifference, (B) with dislike, (C) with dread, or (D) with inexpressible horror?
(2) If you entertain any fear of death at all, is the cause of it (A) prospect of bodily suffering only, (B) dread of the unknown, (C) idea of loneliness and separation from friends, or (D) in addition to all or any of these, a peculiar horror of an indescribable kind?
(3) Is the state of your belief with regard to a future life that of (A) virtual conviction that there is a future life, (B) suspended judgment inclining towards such belief, (C) suspended judgment inclining against such belief, or (D) virtual conviction that there is no such life?
(4) Is your religious belief, if any, (A) of a vivid order, or (B) without much practical influence on your life and conduct?
(5) Is your temperament naturally of (A) a courageous or (B) of a timid order as regards the prospect of bodily pain or mental distress?
(6) More generally, do you regard your own disposition as (A) strong, determined, and self-reliant; (B) nervous, shrinking, and despondent; or (C) medium in this respect?
(7) Should you say that in your character the intellectual or the emotional predominates? Does your intellect incline to abstract or concrete ways of thought? Is it theoretical, practical, or both? Are your emotions of the tender or heroic order, or both? Are your tastes in any way artistic, and, if so, in what way, and with what strength?
(8) What is your age or occupation? Can you trace any change in your feelings with regard to death as having taken place during the course of your life?
(9) If ever you have been in danger of death, what were the circumstances, and what your feelings?
(10) Remarks.
(Signature.)[57]
This communication well exemplifies the spirit in which Mr. Romanes approached the problems of animal faculty. He spent, indeed, much time and labour in collecting and classifying the observations and anecdotes which he published in 'Animal Intelligence'; but he lost no opportunities of observing and experimenting for himself. In this, as in other departments of inquiry, his constant effort was to be in direct and immediate touch with facts. His observations on his own dogs, especially those which he published in his article[58] on 'Fetishism in Animals,' wherein he describes the effects on a terrier of the apparent coming to life of a dry bone which the dog had been playing with, and to which a fine thread had been attached, and those which dealt with the power of tracking their master by scent,[59] further exemplify his careful methods and his resort, wherever possible, to experimental conditions. His observations, too, on the 'homing' of bees,[60] by which he showed that the insects find their way back to the hive through their experience of the topography and by knowledge of landmarks, rather than through any mysterious innate faculty or sense of direction, are the work of a scientific observer, and very different from the chance tales of a mere anecdotist.
The whole subject of comparative psychology had a special and peculiar fascination for Mr. Romanes, partly on account of its intimate connection with the theory of evolution, and partly from its bearing on those deeper philosophic problems which were never long absent from his thoughts. His treatment of the phenomena of instinct in 'Mental Evolution in Animals,' and elsewhere, was both comprehensive and exact, and still forms, in the opinion of competent authorities, the best general account of the subject that we have; though, had he lived to review and consolidate his work, some changes would probably have been introduced in view of later discussions on the nature and method of hereditary transmission. His arguments in 'Mental Evolution in Man,' in support of the essential similarity of the reasoning processes in the higher animals and in man, created a stir, at the time of their publication, which was in itself evidence that his critics felt that they had a writer and thinker that must be seriously and sharply met. He hoped by this work to win over the psychologists to the evolution camp; and he himself felt strongly that in some cases, when he failed fully to convince them of the adequacy of his method of treatment and of the arguments he adduced, it was rather in matters of definition than in matters of fact that the source of their differences lay. He was somewhat disappointed that his terms 'recept' and 'receptual' for mental products intermediate between the 'percept' and the 'concept' were not more generally accepted by psychologists, since, in his matured opinion, they and the conception they represent were eminently helpful in bridging the debatable space between the intellectual powers of man and the faculties of the lower animals.
It was Mr. Romanes' intention to continue the mental evolution series and to deal, in further instalments of his work, with the intellectual emotions, volition, morals, and religion. This intention, however, he did not live to fulfil. His further development of mental evolution in the light of his later conclusions in the region of philosophical and religious thought would have been profoundly interesting. But one's regret that this part of his life work remained incomplete is tempered by the recollection that what he did complete was so worthily done. For, in the words of Mr. Lloyd Morgan, which were quoted with approval by Dr. Burdon Sanderson in his Royal Society obituary notice: 'by his patient collection of data; by his careful discussion of these data in the light of principles clearly and definitely formulated; by his wide and forcible advocacy of his views; and, above all, by his own observations and experiments, Mr. Romanes left a mark in this field of investigation and interpretation which is not likely to be effaced.'
In 1889 Mr. Romanes attended the British Association which met that year at Newcastle. Here, he and Professor Poulton had a long discussion on the 'Inheritance of Acquired Characters'; he spoke so much, and was so much en évidence, at this Association that the Newcastle papers described him as a most belligerent person.
He wrote afterwards from Edinburgh:
Things progress as usual. After my lecture I played chess with Mrs. Butcher and dined with the Logans. Margaret, in telling me the pretty things she had heard, drew from her husband the rebuke that she was not judicious. So I told them your estimate of my merits, and Charles[61] was quite satisfied that I was in good keeping.
You have made a 'philosophical' mistake about the dinner party to the R.'s which, of course, I imitated. Butcher has given me a MS. of his to read on the 'Psychology of the Ludicrous.' Seems very good.
To Professor Poulton.
Newcastle: Monday, September 1889.
My dear Poulton,—I am very glad to receive your long and friendly letter; because, although I have the Ishmael-like reputation of finding my hand against every man, and every man's against mine, my blastogenetic endowments are really of the peaceful order. Moreover, in the present instance the 'row' was not one that affected me with any feelings of real opposition, although it seemed expedient to point out that a somewhat hasty inference had not been judiciously stated. Therefore, I take it, we may now cordially, as well as formally, shake hands, and probably be better friends than ever. In token of which I may begin by furnishing the explanation of what was meant by the passage in the 'Contemporary Review' to which you alluded.
I quite agree that Weismann's suggestion about causes of variability is an admirable one. But it has always seemed to me that it is comprised under Darwin's general category of causes internal to the organism (or, in his terminology, causes due to 'the nature of the organism'). But besides this, he recognised the category of causes external to the organism (or the so-called Lamarckian principles of direct action of environment, plus inherited efforts of use and disuse). Now, anyone who accepts this latter category as comprising veræ causæ, obviously has a larger area of causality on which to draw for his theoretical explanations of variability, than has a man who expressly limits the possibility of such causes to the former category. This is all that I had in my mind when writing the line in the 'Contemporary Review' which led you to suppose that I was expounding W. without having read him; and although I freely allow that the meaning was one that required explanation to bring out, you may remember that this meaning had nothing whatever to do with the subject which I was expounding, and therefore it was that I neglected to draw it out. You will observe that, so far as the present matter is concerned, it does not signify what views we severally take touching the validity of Lamarckian hypotheses. The point is, that anyone who sees his way to entertaining them thereby furnishes himself with a larger field of causality for explaining variations than does a man who limits that field to causes internal to organisms—even though, like W., he suggests an extension of the latter.
And now about the 'Athenæum.' I fear you think I have been taking an unfair opportunity of giving you a back-hander. In point of fact, however, I never do such things; and the more reason I have for anything like hitting back (which, however, is entirely absent on the present occasion), the more careful should I be to avoid any appearance of doing so in an unsigned review. I neither wrote, nor have I read the particular review in question.
Regarding articulation, read in my 'Mental Evolution in Man,' Mr. Hales' admirable remarks on children having probably been the constructors of all languages. I believe this theory will prove to be the true solution of the origin of languages, as distinguished from the faculty of language. What you say about the latter being blastogenetic, requires you to unsay what is said by W.
Please let me know whether there is anything that you see in my 'cessation of selection' different from W.'s 'Panmixia.' The debate to-day failed to furnish any opposition.
Yours very sincerely,
G. J. Romanes.
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: October 21. 1889.
My dear Poulton,—Many thanks for your interesting letter. From it I quite understand your views about the relation between reproduction and repair; are they those of Weismann or altogether your own? And have they, as yet, been published anywhere? If not, I suppose it is undesirable to allude to them in public? The theory is ingenious, but seems to sail rather near Pangenesis (as do many of the latter amendments of germ-plasm by W.); and I should have thought that the limbs of salamanders, &c., are too late products, both phylogenetically and ontogenetically, to fall within its terms.
I also see better what you mean about Sphex. But Darwin's letter in 'Mental Evolution in Animals' seems to me to meet (or rather to anticipate) the 'difficulty.' Of course, he did not suppose that the insects' knowledge of 'success' goes further than finding out and observing the best place to sting in order to produce the maximum effect. The analogy of Cymphs is apposite; but is it the fact that there is any species whose localisation is really comparable with that of Sphex? Contrasting Weismann's account with Fabre's, I should say not.
As for neuter insects (which you mentioned at Newcastle), Darwin allows that they constitute one of the most difficult cases to bring under natural selection, seeing that this has here to act at the end of a long lever of the wrong kind, so to speak. Read Perrier's preface to French translation of 'Mental Evolution in Animals,' and observe how good his suggestion is, on the supposition that Lamarckian principles have any applicability at all.
Lastly, at Newcastle you said something that seemed to imply a doubt upon such facts as Lord Morton's mare. Do you really doubt such facts? I cannot suppose it.
There are plenty of white stoats hereabouts, I believe, though I have never actually seen them, because I do not stay late enough in the year. I have told my keeper to try to catch some without injuring them, and, if he succeeds, to send them straight to the Zoo. The experiment would be a very interesting one. But the keeper says that even here the whiteness depends as to its intensity upon the amount of snow in different seasons. He is most positive about this; he says it depends upon snow, and not on cold. However, I do not quote him as an authority in science, although he certainly is an intelligent and observing man.
Regarding the Royal Institution, an after Easter course by you would be doubly interesting, because before Easter I have to give one on the 'Post-Darwinian Period,' which will be mainly concerned with Weismann. Your lectures might then serve as a counter-irritant, therefore I will do anything I can to bring them about, only, not being on the managing body, I can help merely by backing any application you may make. And, of course, there ought to be no difficulty about it. Only let me know if you should want backing.
Would it not be worth while to get also some mountain hares for observation at the Zoo? These, I think, I could get.
Yours very truly,
Geo. J. Romanes.
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: October 15.
Would you mind sending me the part of your MS. dealing with Sphex? I do not know that I quite caught your objection to my difficulty, and want to allude to it in lectures which I am now preparing for my Edinburgh class.
Also, did I correctly understand you to say that you refused to acknowledge any fundamental identity between processes of reproduction and those of repair? For this identity is to my mind the most important of all objections to W.'s theory.
G. J. Romanes.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: December 3, 1889.
My dear Poulton,—I returned here a day or two ago, and now send you my copy of Perrier's remarks about the neuters of hymenopterous insects. But he said a good deal more in subsequent and private correspondence. His preface, however, will serve to show you the general tone of argument.
With regard to Panmixia, it occurs to me that very likely you have not seen all that I wrote upon it, as the three papers were scattered over several months in 'Nature.' The following are the references: Vol. ix. pp. 361, 440; vol. x. p. 164.
You will see that I took up a decided stand upon the principle of Panmixia not being able altogether to supersede that of disuse. This was for the reasons stated in my last letter; and I still see no further reason for changing the opinion that was then formed under the influence of Darwin's judgment.
With reference to the difference that you alluded to—and which, as far as I can see, is the only difference between Weismann's presentation of the principle and my own—I enclose an extract from the lecture which I have just been giving in Edinburgh. From this extract I think you will see that the one point of difference does not redound to the credit of Weismann's logic. After reading the extract in conjunction with the papers in 'Nature,' perhaps you will let me know whether you now understand my view any better, or still believe that the cessation of selection alone can reduce the average of a useless organ below fifty per cent, of its original size—so long, that is, as the force of heredity continues unimpaired.
G. J. Romanes.
Some further letters to Mr. Thiselton-Dyer and to Mr. F. Darwin follow.
To Professor Thiselton-Dyer.
December 20, 1888.
Dear Dyer,—Would you mind sending me on a postcard the name of the genus of plants the constituent species of which you alluded to in the train as being mutually fertile, and also separated from one another topographically? I want to get as many of such cases as I possibly can, so, if any others occur to you, please mention them likewise.
By reading pages 401 and 404 of my paper, you will see why such cases are of quite as much importance to me as the converse, viz. where closely allied species inhabiting continuous areas are more or less mutually sterile (see p. 392).
If you have hitherto failed to apply these converse tests to my theory, I cannot conceive by what other principle you have sought to test it. Pray read the passages referred to, which present the shortest summary of what I regard as the very backbone of my evidence.
If your large knowledge of geographical distribution should enable you to supply me with specific cases of the general principle mentioned by Darwin in the quotation given on page 392 ('Origin of Species,' 6th ed., pp. 134-5), I should much like to try experiments on the sterility which I should expect to find between these interlocking species.
It seems comical to ask a scientific opponent for assistance, but the fact of being able to do so proves the superiority of science to politics.
December 25, 1888.
It is very good of you to write such a long and suggestive letter.
As a result of attentively reading your letter, it appears to me that you think I suppose sterility in a high degree to be much more usual among allied species than I do suppose it. I well know the large amount of natural as well as artificial hybridisation that goes on. But, on the other hand, there are so many species which either will not cross at all, or produce sterile hybrids, that, taking a general view of all species together, mutual sterility does become by far the most generally distributed single peculiarity—i.e. is the one peculiarity which, more than any other that can be named, is common to numberless species.
Thus much for mutual sterility that is absolute, either in first crosses or in their hybrid progeny. But now, the most important thing for me is mutual sterility that is not absolute (though, on my theory, perhaps on its way to becoming so) but relative, i.e. there being a lower degree of fertility between A × B or B × A, than there is between A × A or B × B.
Hitherto very few experiments have been made on these comparative degrees of fertility, yet it is by such alone, it seems to me, that physiological selections can be tested. Thus, e.g., my point about the 'interlocking' species (p. 392) is that in such cases I should expect a higher degree of fertility in A × A and B × B than crosswise. Indeed, my fear is that when I shall have proved by experiment that such is the general rule in such cases, naturalists will turn round and say: 'Well, of course, on merely a priori grounds you might have known that such must have been the case; for otherwise the two interlocking species could never have existed as separate species, they would have hybridised freely along the whole frontier line and eventually blended over the whole area.' And still more may this be said in the case of allied species, not merely interlocking, but intermixed through common areas. Therefore, as a believing F.R.S. said to me the other day, 'Your letters in "Nature" will at least have the effect of blunting the edge of such possible criticism in the future.' Of course you will laugh at the robustness of my faith in thus forecasting the line of future opposition, but I would like to ask you this much: Supposing, for the sake of argument, that twenty years hence I publish one hundred instances of allied species which grow intermixed in common areas, proving by experiment that in all the cases there is some comparative degree of sterility between them (if only due to pre-potency of their own pollen), would you regard this as making in favour of physiological selection? Or are you already prepared to admit that such must be the case, since otherwise the species A and B could not exist without fusion into one? If you say that you are prepared to admit this, it seems to me that you have already accepted the theory of physiological selection on a priori grounds.
Again, if I should publish one hundred other instances of allied species topographically isolated from one another, all of which were proved by experiment to present no degree at all of mutual infertility (so that A × A and B × B are not more fertile than crosswise), would you allow that, taken in conjunction with the previous set of experiments, these finally prove the theory of physiological selection to be true? If not, I do not see how it is possible to verify the theory at all: it is only by means of these two complementary lines of research that, as it seems to me, the theory can be experimentally tested.
In the former case—i.e. where allied species intermix in common areas—sometimes they intercross freely (e.g. Primula vulgaris and veris, Geum urbanum and rivale, Rumex, Epilobium, &c.), while in other instances they don't (e.g. Ranunculus repens and bulbosus, Lepidium Smithii and campestre, Scrophularia nodosa and aquatica, &c.). Now, as regards the latter, I suppose you would not question that the 'physiological isolation' has to do with preventing the species from fusing? But, if so, by parity of reasoning, should we not expect to meet with some degree of the same thing in the other cases, which, although not here sufficiently pronounced to block off frequent hybridisation, is nevertheless sufficient to prevent the species from blending over their common area?
And here, I may say, I should not at all object to the charge of misunderstanding Darwin on any merely trivial point such as the one you mention. But in this instance it so happens that it is rather you who have misunderstood me. I know that 'a hybrid is not an intermediate form in his sense,' and this is just what constitutes my difficulty against his paragraphs quoted on p. 392 of my paper. For what I say is, these intermediate forms ought to be hybrids, unless physiological selection, (i.e. mutual sterility) has been at work. 'In his sense' I cannot conceive how such 'intermediate forms' can exist in the circumstances described, seeing that they are not hybrids, and yet that (in the absence of any hypothesis of physiological isolation for which I am contending) there is no reason given why the two interlocking species should not freely intercross.
Regarding sexual selection I certainly am very much in earnest about its parallel to p.s.[62] If you intend the meaning of n.s. so as to embrace s.s. it will at the same time embrace also p.s. For s.s., like p.s., has nothing to do with life-preserving characters; yet, also like p.s., it has to do with the differentiation of specific forms. (There is no distinction to be drawn between 'the species of a cock' and 'the plumage of a cock': plumage is the most favourite part of a bird with ornithologists on which to found specific diagnoses.) Therefore, if p.s. is true at all—which, of course, is another question—even my celebrated powers of 'dialectical subtlety' are completely unable to perceive any difference between p.s. and s.s. in respect of their relation to n.s.
Lastly, as regards Nägeli, no doubt he is an out-and-out Lamarckian, but I did not see that this should make any difference touching his opinion on a matter of fact not more connected with Lism. than Dism. I will look up 'Nature' for 1870.
With best Christmas wishes and many thanks for botanical hints.
December 26, 1888.
It has occurred to me that if you know Churchill's address, I might save time by writing to him before seeing him when he comes in spring.
It has also occurred to me that I might perhaps put the argument on pp. 801-4 better before you thus:
If phys. sel. is true, it would follow that as between allied species, mutual sterility ought to occur in all degrees (from zero to absolute), and that there ought to be a correlation between these degrees of sterility and degrees of non-separation, topographically.
Now, you cannot possibly doubt that the first expectation is realised in nature; as between allied species sterility does occur in all degrees, from there being no such sterility at all in very many cases, to there being absolute sterility in other cases. Therefore, in stating this fact as a fact, I am not playing at 'heads I win and tails you lose,' nor 'begging the whole question at the outset.' Any 'question' really arises only with regard to the second expectation—viz. whether there is a general correlation between degrees of mutual fertility and degrees of topographical isolation.
Now, this question I have not begged, but, on the contrary, stated as the question by an experimental answer to which my theory must stand or fall.
Thus, the cases which you mention obviously go to support the theory, inasmuch as they conform to the expectation above mentioned. What I want to do is to find as many genera as possible like binchona and begonia, where the constituent species are separated geographically or topographically, and (? in consequence) easily hybridise with one another.
Therefore, as a mere matter of method, I cannot see that I have begged any question: for the only question is not about the facts which I state, but about my suggested explanation of them. And this question can only be answered by ascertaining whether there is in nature any such general correlation between isolation and capability of hybridising (also, of course, between the absence of isolation and the absence of such capability) as my theory would require.
Yours very sincerely,
G. J. Romanes.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: December 27, 1888.
I am most glad that in your last letter you deal with what I consider the real 'question'—viz. not whether degrees of sterility obtain among a large proportional number of species, but whether there is any such correlation between them and absence of isolation of other kinds as my theory would expect. And, in dealing with this question you hit upon precisely the two greatest difficulties which I have myself concluded lie against the theory. The first is about areas now discontinuous having been once continuous, and our being so often unable to say whether or not such has been the case. But this difficulty is one that lies against verification of the theory, not against the theory itself. It was in view of this difficulty that I mentioned oceanic islands as furnishing the best flora for trying experiments upon; but since I published the paper, I have not been able to hear of any botanists visiting islands. Should you ever hear of any you might let me know.
The second difficulty is one that lies against the theory itself, and has always seemed to me most formidable. But as nobody else has ever mentioned it, I have not hitherto done so, as I want to work it out quietly. I allude to your remark about the extraordinary differences that obtain among different genera with regard to the capability of intercrossing exhibited by their constituent species. This, I confess, has from the first appeared a tremendous objection to my theory. On the other hand, I have taken comfort from the consideration that besides being a tremendous objection, it is also a tremendous mystery. For, as it must admit of some explanation, and as this explanation must almost certainly have to do with the sexual system, it becomes not improbable that when found the explanation may square with p.s. That the difference in question is functional and not structural (or physiological as distinguished from morphological) seems to be proved by the fact that in some cases it obtains as between the most closely allied genera, being, e.g., most strongly pronounced of all between Geranium and Pelargonium. Even quite apart from my own theory, it seems to me that this is a subject of the highest importance to investigate.
As regards sexual selection I allow, of course, that the 'law of battle' is a form of natural selection. But where the matter is merely a pleasing of æsthetic taste, and the resulting structures therefore only ornamental, I can see nothing 'advantageous' in the sense of life-preserving. On the contrary, in most cases such structures entail considerable expenditure of physiological energy in their production. On this account Darwin says that nat. sel. must impose a check on sexual selection running beyond a certain point of injuriousness ('D. of M.,' p. 227). Now, physiological selection is never thus injurious; and although it is a 'form of isolation,' the isolation is neither so extreme nor of such long continuance as the ones you compare it with. Moreover, the environment (therefore all other or external conditions of life) remain the same, which is not the case under the other forms of isolation. Provided that the physiological change is not in itself injurious, I do not see why physiologically isolated forms should be less fit than those from which they have been separated, though I can very well see why this should be the case with such geographically isolated forms as you mention, for there the schooling is different. Lastly, physiological selection, if not in itself injurious, does not require that its children should be 'protected against the struggle for existence.' On the contrary, as I say in my paper, it is calculated to give this struggle a better chance than ever to develope adaptive character in the sexually isolated forms, because the swamping effects of intercrossing are diminished.
But I really did not intend to afflict you with another jaw of this kind. I am, however, very glad that we now understand each other better than we did. At all events on my side I think I now know exactly the points which I have to make good if Nature is so constituted as to admit of my theory. One thing only I have forgotten to say, viz. that nothing can be argued against the theory from the fact of hybridisation occurring in cases where, according to the theory, it ought not to occur. This argument only becomes valid where it is found that the resulting hybrids are fertile. In relation to the theory, a sterile hybrid is all the same as a failure to cross.
Yours very sincerely,
G. J. Romanes.
P.S.—I forgot to ask you if there would be any facilities in spring at Kew for repeating Adam's graft of purple on yellow laburnum. I want to try this experiment in budding on a large scale because of its importance on Weismannism, should the result of any of the grafts go to corroborate Adam's account of the way in which he produced the hybrid. If you agree to the experiments being tried at Kew, perhaps you might let me know whether there are any purple laburnums already in the gardens, or whether I should get the material over from France. But in that case you might also let me know to whom in France or elsewhere I had best apply. However, do not bother to answer any other parts of this tremendous letter, these we can discuss in conversation hereafter. A postcard to answer this postscript, however, is desirable, as then it might be possible to get matters in train for next budding season.
G. J. R.
I should much like to meet Churchill. Will you remember to tell me when he comes?
To F. Darwin, Esq.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 20, 1889.
Dear Darwin,—Many thanks for your long letter. I thought you might have had some notes or memories of conversations, to show in a general way what the 'line' would have been.[63] If so, of course I should not have said that my sayings were inspired, but should myself have known that I was not going astray.
The line I am going to take is:
1st. Even assuming, for sake of argument, that heightened colour is correlated with increased vigour, Wallace everywhere fails to distinguish between brilliancy and ornament; yet it is the disposition of colours in patterns, &c., that is the chief thing to be explained.
2nd. In many cases (e.g. peacock's tail) the pattern is only revealed when unfolded during courtship. Besides natural selection could not be such a fool as to develope large (physiologically expressive) and weighty (impeding flight) structures like this—stags' antlers, &c., merely as correlates of vigour.
3rd. There is not much in Wallace's merely negative difficulty about our not knowing what goes on in the mind of a hen, when we set against that difficulty the positive fact that we can see what does go on in the mind of a cock—display, antics, song, &c.
4th. To say that 'each bird finds a mate under any circumstances' is merely to beg the whole question.
5th. There remains Wallace's jealousy of natural selection. He will not have any other 'factor,' and therefore says natural selection must eat up sexual selection like the lean kine have the fat kine. But natural selection alone does not explain all the phenomena of sexual colouring, courtship, &c., and sexual selection is exactly the theory that does. Wallace's jealousy, therefore, is foolish and inimical to natural selection theory itself, by forcing it into explanations which are plainly false.
My own belief is, that what Lankester calls the 'pure Darwinians' are doing the same thing in another direction. By endeavouring, with Wallace and Weismann, to make natural selection all in all as the sole cause of adaptive structure, and expressly discarding the Darwinian recognition of use and disuse. I think they are doing harm to natural selection theory itself. Moreover, because I do not see any sufficient reason as yet to budge from the real Darwinian standpoint (Weismann has added nothing to the facts which were known to Charles Darwin), the post-Darwinians accuse me of moving away from Darwinian principles. But it is they who are moving, and, because they see a change in our relative positions, affirm that it is I. In point of fact, my position has never varied in the least, and my confession of faith would still follow, in every detail, that given on p. 421 of 'Origin,' 6th ed., which, it seems to me, might also be regarded as prophetic no less than retrospective.
If I did not say all this in my paper in physiological selection, it is only because I never conceived the possibility of my being accused of trying to undermine natural selection; and, therefore, I only stated as briefly as possible what my relations were to it. Yet it seems to me that this statement was clear enough if Wallace had not come down with his preposterous 'Romanes versus Darwin.' At all events, it is not in my power—or, I believe, in that of anybody else—to express more strongly than I now have in 'Nature,' in answer to Dyer, what I do hold about natural selection in its relation to physiological selection, sexual selection, and other subordinate principles. Of course, if there were a debate on these lines at the B.A., I should get my part of it published somewhere. As far as I can honestly see, my 'position' is absolutely identical with that in last editions of 'Origin' and 'Descent,' with, perhaps, a 'tendency' to lay more stress on levelling influence of Panmixia.
Re physiological selection. I have sent Correvon, of Geneva, £50 to help in founding a garden in the Alps, which will have the proud distinction of being the highest garden in the world. He is a splendid man for his knowledge of Alpine flora, and besides, is strongly bitten with a desire to test physiological selection. Of course I shall do the hybridising experiments myself, but he will collect the material from the different mountains—i.e. nearly allied species, topographically separated, and therefore, I hope, mutually fertile. The converse experiments of nearly allied species on common areas may be tried in England.
I am making arrangements for repeating on an extensive scale experiments on budding purple laburnum on yellow, to see if it is possible to reproduce 'Adam's eye' hybrid. If so, it would now be of more importance than ever in relation to Weismann. By the way, he is sorely put to it in the case of plants which reproduce themselves not only by cuttings, but even by leaves. Here he is bound to confess that his germ-plasma occupies all the cellular tissue of the entire plant. But if so, how in the world does his germ-plasma differ from gemmules?
There! I did not intend to write you anything of a letter when I began, but have gone on and on till it is well for you that the second sheet is coming to an end.
Yours ever,
G. J. Romanes.
P.S.—Any contributions to Correvon's garden (however small) would be thankfully received by him. Possibly his garden may be of some use to English botanists; if so, you might send the hat round, and collect any coppers that fall.
To Professor Thiselton-Dyer.
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: January 7, 1889.
My dear Dyer,—Knowing what a busy man you are, I never expected you to answer my last letter, and therefore it has come as an agreeable surprise. For no doubt you will believe me when I say that I value much more communications which are opposed to physiological selection than those in its favour; the former show me better what has to be done in the way of verification, as well as the general views which may be taken on the subject by other minds. And most of all is this the case when anyone like yourself gives me the benefit of opinions which are formed by a trained experience in botany, seeing that here I am myself such a sorry ignoramus. And I willingly confess that your strongly expressed opinion has seriously shaken my hopes for physiological selection, notwithstanding that some German botanists think otherwise. Nevertheless, I still think that it is worth while to devote some years to experimental testing, and then, if the results are against me—well, I shall be sorry to have spent so much time over a wild flower chase, and to have kicked up so much scientific dust in the process; but I will not be ashamed to acknowledge that Nature has said No.
And now for your last letter. Read in the light of subsequent experience, I have no doubt that I ought to have expressed myself with more care while writing my paper. But, to tell the honest truth, it never once occurred to me that I of all men could be suspected of trying to undermine the theories of Darwin. I was entirely filled with the one idea of presenting what seemed to me 'a supplementary hypothesis,' which, while 'in no way opposed to natural selection,' would 'release the latter from the only difficulties' which to my mind it had ever presented. Therefore I took it for granted that everybody would go with me in recognising natural selection as the 'boss' round which every 'other theory' must revolve, without my having to say so on every page. So, of course, by 'other theory' I did not mean that physiological selection was in my opinion the only theory of the origin of species. Everywhere throughout the paper, from the title-page to the conclusion, I represented it as an 'additional suggestion,' a 'supplementary hypothesis,' &c., &c. Sexual selection is in my view (as it is also in Darwin's, Wallace's, and doubtless that of all evolutionists) one of the 'other theories that have been propounded on the origin of species.' So is Lamarck's theory, which was considered by Darwin as more or less 'supplementary' to natural selection; and this is all that I meant—or, I should say, could possibly be understood to mean in view of the title-page, &c.—by speaking of physiological selection as another theory of the origin of species. It certainly is not the same thing as natural selection or either of the 'other theories' just mentioned; but no less certainly it is not exclusive of any of the three. Unquestionably it is as you say, and as I myself said, an independent theory—i.e. not identical with, but additional to, that of natural selection. But this is a widely different thing from saying that it is in itself an exhaustive theory, which must therefore swallow up all or any 'others.' In short, I abide by the closing statement of my introductory paragraph—viz. that the theory is an 'attempt at suggesting another factor in the formation of species, which, although quite independent of natural selection, is in no way opposed to natural selection, and may therefore be regarded as a factor supplementary to natural selection.' Statements to the same effect are indeed scattered through the entire paper; but, of course, could I have foreseen the interpretations which afterwards arose, I should have reiterated such statements ad nauseam.
Sorry you cannot come to the B.A., or to dine, but certainly do not wonder.
Yours very sincerely,
G. J. Romanes.
Lastly, about species not being able to exist as species without the physiological isolation of physiological selection (p. 403), the statement of course only applies to nearly allied species occupying common areas (see p. 404). If this statement is wrong, no one has yet shown me wherein it is so. I fancy you do not quite appreciate that by 'sterility' I always mean (unless otherwise expressly stated) sterility in some degree, and this not only with regard to the fertile hybrids. It is by no means enough to point to natural and fertile hybrids as cases opposed to physiological selection unless it has been shown by experiment through a generation or two that these hybrids are fully fertile—i.e. as fertile as their parent species. Now, experiments of this kind have rarely been carried through. If you assume that the result of carrying them through would be destructive of physiological selection by proving that fertile hybrids are, as a rule, fully fertile, and also (which is very important) that in any cases where experiment may show them to be so, further experiment would fail to show that isolation has not been effected in any other way (as by pre-potency, differences of insect fertilisation, &c.)—in short, if you assume that fertility is as complete between the two associated species as it is within each species, how is it conceivable that they should continue to be distinct? In this connection it is well to consult Gulick's paper already referred to (especially p. 259, paragraph 1st) on the theoretical side, and Jordan's papers and books on the practical side. I have repeated the latter's observations on poppies, and find that where any considerable number of individuals are concerned, natural selection is not nearly so great a power in this respect. (Even in cases where it happens that in-breeding is necessarily confined to single hermaphrodite individuals for numberless generations, the handicapping is not fatal: witness flowers which habitually fertilise themselves before opening—especially some species of orchids, which never seem to do otherwise, notwithstanding the elaborate provisions for cross-fertilisation in other species.) Now, I believe most of all in what I have called 'collective variation' of the reproductive system in the way of physiological selection, whereby, owing to some common influence acting on a large number of individuals similarly and simultaneously, they all become sexually co-adapted inter se while physiologically isolated from the rest. This essential feature of the theory seems to me entirely to remove the difficulty about in-breeding, as well as that which Wallace urged about the chances against a suitable meeting of 'physiological complements.'
As for my having attributed too much to the swamping effects of intercrossing (Panmixia), this, I am convinced, is the one and only particular wherein I have at all departed from the judgments of Darwin; though, curiously enough, it is the particular on which my critics have laid least stress when accusing me of Darwinian heresy. But it is too big a question to treat in correspondence. Gulick's recently published paper at the Linnean Society seems to me a most important one in this connection, and I have a large body of other evidence.
To F. Darwin, Esq.[64]
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W., January 8, 1889.
Dear Darwin,—Hate you, indeed! Why, I cannot imagine any better service than that of stopping a fellow from making a fool of himself, and I most cordially thank you for having done so in this case. The business was so completely out of my line, that I did not know what was required. It seemed to me that if I got any evidence of bending towards the sparks, the only question I wanted to answer would be answered, and, therefore, that it did not matter a straw about temperature, moisture, and the rest. Moreover, the results did not seem to me to be of any importance, as they were just what might have been expected, and, therefore, I doubted whether it was worth while publishing a paper about them. Had they gone, the other way, and proved that the plants would not bend to flashing light, I should have thought it much more interesting. Lastly, the research was so expensive, costing £1 per day at the only place where I could get the requisite apparatus, and there they shut up at night.
Of course, I will withdraw this paper, and, if you think the thing is worth working out in all the details you suggest, will do so. In that case, it would be worth while to ascertain whether there would be any electrical apparatus at Cambridge which I could get the use of at a lower rate of profit to the owners. A good-sized induction coil is really all that is required, and they probably have this in the Cavendish. But there is not one available in any of the London workshops, and so I had to go to Appes, in the Strand. It is suggested that the debate in Section D at the British Association this year should be opened by me on the question of utility as universal. Before I agree, I should like to know what you think about the 'Nature' controversy which I have recently had with Dyer, and out of which the present suggestion has emanated. Perhaps we might arrange to meet somewhere soon to have a talk over the expediency of such a debate at all, and the lines on which, if held, it should run. Of course, physiological selection would be carefully kept out. My object would be to show the prime importance of natural selection as a theory which everywhere accounts for adaptations.
Yours very sincerely,
G. J. Romanes.
May 27, 1889.
Herewith I return, with many thanks, a pamphlet by Kerner, numbered 738.
In my experiments with electric spark illumination on plants, I notice that the seedlings, although so wonderfully heliotropic, never form chlorophyll, even if exposed to a continuous stream of sparks for 30 hours on end, while they will bend through 90° in seven hours to single sparks following one another at one per second. This proves that there is no connection at all between heliotropism and formation of chlorophyll, or vice versa—a point which I cannot find to have been hitherto stated. Do you happen to know if it has been? If you do not happen to remember anything bearing on this subject, do not trouble to search or to answer.
Wallace's book[65] strikes me as very able in many parts, though singularly feeble in others—especially the last chapter. He has done but scant justice to Gulick's paper. Had he read it with any care, he might have seen that it fully anticipates his criticism on mine. But I think he deserves great credit for nowhere chuckling. From the first he has been consistent in holding natural selection the sole factor of organic evolution—leaving no room for sexual selection, inheritance of acquired characters, &c., &c. And now that he had lived to see an important body of evolutionists adopting this view, there must have been a strong temptation to 'I always told you so.' Yet there is nowhere any note of this, or even so much as an allusion to his previous utterances on the subject.
To E. B. Poulton, Esq.
Geanies, Ross-shire: November 2, 1889.
My dear Poulton,—Continuing our antipodal correspondence, and taking the points in your last letter seriatim, I quite saw that your theory of repair was 'the logical outcome of Weismann's' (being, in fact, a direct application of his views on phylogeny to the case of repair); but I did not know whether the outcome had been traced by him or by yourself. Now, I understand, I may allude to it as yours. Again, what I meant about regeneration of entire limbs, &c., was that, to meet such cases, your diagram would require modification in the way that you now suggest. Has it occurred to you as an argument in favour of this suggestion (i.e. that the 'potentiality' of somatic germ-plasm may in such cases be arrested in its process of ontogenetic diffusion), that Darwin has shown, or at least alleged, that all such cases may be traced to special adaptation to special needs, dangers, &c.—so that the arrest may have been brought about in these cases by natural selection?
If you deem the 'chief difference' between Darwin's and Weismann's theory of heredity to be 'that the one implies material particles and the other only physical and chemical constitution,' then, it seems to me, Weismann's theory will become identical with Herbert Spencer's—seeing that this is virtually the only respect in which Spencer's differs from Darwin's. But I think there is another and a much more important respect in which W.'s theory differs from both these predecessors. However, to proceed to the next point, I agree with you, that the sole object of the Sphex stinging the larvæ is now to cause them to 'keep,' and that natural selection must have worked upon this for perfecting the instinct. But the point is, what was the origin of the selective stinging? If merely chance congenital variations, would unity to billions express the chances against their ever arising? Get some mathematician to calculate—giving as data superficial area of caterpillar on the one hand and that of nine ganglia on the other. Even neglecting the consideration that the variation must occur many times to give unaided natural selection a chance to fix it as an instinct, the chances against its occurring only once would be represented by the following series, where x is the superficial area of the caterpillar minus that of eight ganglia, and unity is superficial area of one ganglia:
1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x × 1/x
If, as I suppose, x may here be taken as = 100,000, the chances against the variation occurring once would be written in figures expressing unity to one thousand million billion trillions. Of course I do not rely on calculations of this kind for giving anything like accurate results (mathematics in biology always seems to me like a scalpel in a carpenter's shop), but it makes no difference how far one cuts down such figures as these. Therefore, if Lamarck won't satisfy such facts, neither do I think that Darwin minus Lamarck can do so. We must wait for the next man.
I will send you 'Perrier' on my return to town next month.
Lord Morton's experience is so universally that of all breeders of live stock, that I never knew anybody ever doubted it. But, if they do, there is no reason why they should not satisfy themselves on the point. For my part I do not feel that the fact requires any corroboration as regards mammals, though I have some experiments going on with birds. Lastly, the apparently analogous cases in plants are still worse for Weismann's theory, and they stand on the best authorities.
I enclose a letter received by same post that brought yours. It is from a former keeper of mine who is now more in the moorlands. Other applications are out, so I hope some of them will be successful. Very little doubt it will prove to be temperature. I found a dead stoat here to-day; it had not turned white at all, but then the season is very mild.
The Secretary of the R.I. is Sir F. Bramwell, Bart., F.R.S. You had better write to him. Also to his son-in-law, Victor Horsley, who is more of a biologist. Tell Bramwell, if you like, that I think he ought to jump at you.
Yours very truly,
G. J. Romanes.
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: November 6, 1889.
My dear Poulton,—Many thanks for your paper, which is the clearest exposition I have yet seen of Weismann's views. But how about your allusion to experiments in grafting? As regards plants, there is a good deal of evidence as to the possibility of a graft-hybrid. As regards animals, fifteen years ago I spent an immensity of time in experimenting, and could not then find that there was any literature on the subject. Nobody who had grafted animal tissues had done so with any reference to the heredity question, nor do I know of any publications on the subject since then.
Yours very truly,
G. J. Romanes.
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: November 11, 1889.
My dear Poulton,—Although I spent more time and trouble than I like to acknowledge (even to myself) in trying to prove Pangenesis between '73 and '80, I never obtained any positive results, and did not care to publish negative. Therefore there are no papers of mine on the subject, although I may fairly believe that no other human being has tried so many experiments upon it. No doubt you will think that I ought to regard this fact as so much negative evidence in favour of the new theory; and, up to a certain point, I do, only the issue between Pangenesis and Germ-plasm is not really or nearly so well defined as Weismann represents, where the matter of experiments is concerned; e.g. it is not the case that any crucial test is furnished by the non-transmissibility of mutilations; Darwin did not set much store by them, though Eimer and others have done so since. In fact all the Germans on both sides, and all the Englishmen on Weismann's side, seem to me unjust to Darwin in this respect.
Regarding the cessation of selection, the motive that prompted my question to you was not the paltry one of claiming priority in the enunciation of an exceedingly obvious idea. My motive was to assure myself that this idea is exactly the same as Weismann's Panmixia; for, although I could see no difference, I thought perhaps he and you did (from absence of allusion to my paper, while priority is acknowledged as regards a later one); and, if this were so, I wanted to know where the difference lay. And the reason I wanted to know this was because when my paper was published, and Darwin accepted the idea with enthusiasm, I put it to him in conversation whether this idea might not supersede Lamarckian principles altogether. (By carefully reading between the lines of the paper itself, you will see how much this question was occupying my mind at the time, though I did not dare to challenge Lamarck's principles in toto without much more full inquiry.) Then it was that Darwin dissuaded me from going on to this point, on the ground that there was abundant evidence of Lamarck's principles apart from use and disuse of structures—e.g. instincts—and also on the ground of his theory of Pangenesis. Therefore I abandoned the matter, and still retain what may thus be now a prejudice against exactly the same line of thought as Darwin talked me out of in 1873. Weismann, of course, has greatly elaborated this line of thought; but what may be called the scientific axis of it (viz. possible non-inheritance of acquired characters) is identical, and all the more metaphysical part of it about the immortality, immutability, &c., of a hypothetical germ-plasm is the weakest part in my estimation.
Now, the point I am working up to is this. If there be no difference between Panmixia and Cessation of Selection, from what I have briefly sketched about it, it follows that, had Darwin lived till now, he would almost certainly have been opposed to Weismann. This is not a thing I should like to say in public, but one that I should like to feel practically assured about in my own mind.
Regarding the numerical calculations, I have not got a copy of the 'Nature' paper here, but, so far as I remember (and I think I am right), the idea was that 'Economy of Growth' would go on assisting Cessation of Selection till the degenerating organ became 'rudimentary.' In other words, reversal of selection would co-operate with cessation of it.
This, as I understand it, is now exactly Weismann's view; only he thinks that thus the rudimentary organ would finally become extinguished. Here, however, it seems to me evident he must be wrong. The reasons are obvious, as I am going to show this week to my Edinburgh class. Six lectures are to be devoted entirely to Weismann, and when they are published (as they will be this time next year), I think it will be seen that Weismannism is not such very plain sailing as Weismann himself seems to think. Vines has anticipated some of my points in his paper in 'Nature'; but I hope this may have the effect of letting me see what answers can be given before I shall have to publish.
Yours very truly,
G. J. Romanes.
In the midst of these scientific labours and scientific controversies, Mr. Romanes found time for other thoughts and for other work.
At the beginning of 1889 he delivered an address at Toynbee Hall on the Ethical Teaching of Christ, of which the following is an extract:
'The services rendered by Christ to the cause of morality have been in two distinct directions. The first is in an unparalleled change of moral conception, and the other in an unparalleled moral example, joined with peculiar powers of moral exposition and enthusiasm of moral feeling which have never before been approached. The originality of Christ's teaching might in some quarters be over-rated, but the achievement it was impossible to overrate. It is only before the presence of Christ that the dry bones of ethical abstraction have sprung into life. The very essence of the new religion consists in re-establishing more closely than ever the bonds between morality and religion. One important effect of Christ's teaching and influence has been the carrying into effect of the doctrine of universalism, for previously the idea of human brotherhood can not be said to have existed. Again, in the exaltation of the benevolent virtues at the expense of the heroic, the change effected is fundamental and abrupt. Christ may be said to have created the virtues of self-abnegation, universal beneficence, unflinching humility—indeed, the divine supremacy of compassion. Whether Christ be regarded as human or divine, all must agree in regarding the work of His life as by far the greatest work ever achieved in the history of the human race. A topic of great importance is the influence of Christ's personality in securing the acceptance of His teaching. The personal character of Christ is of an order sui generis, and even the most advanced of sceptics have done homage to it. The more keen the intellectual criticism, the greater is the appreciation of the uniqueness of the personality. Men may cease to wonder at the effect of Christ's teaching; for, given the wonderful personality, all the rest must follow. Whatever answers different persons may give to the questions, "What think ye of Christ? Whose son is He?" everyone must agree that "His name shall be called Wonderful!"'
This brought on him two characteristic letters, one from an Agnostic lady, blaming him for attaching so much importance to Him whom she was pleased to call 'The Peasant of Nazareth,' the other from Dr. Paget:
Christ Church, Oxford: January 14, 1889.
My dear Romanes,—I hope you will not think me impertinent if I write a few words of gratitude for the happiness which I enjoyed in reading to-day even such an account of your address at Toynbee Hall as the 'Times' gave me. There is always a risk of impertinence in thanking a man for what he has said; for of course he has said it because he saw it, and thought he ought to say it, quite simply. But I may just thank you for the generous willingness with which you accepted such a task:—and for the light in which you looked at it:—as an opportunity for saying so ungrudgingly, so open-heartedly, that which is clear to you about our Lord. This must be, please God, a real bit of help to others; and I trust and pray that it may return in help to you.
But how dark you were about it! I should have been furious if I had been in London, and not there.
Please forgive me this letter; and do not think it needs any answer.
Affectionately yours,
Francis Paget.
At the beginning of this year Mr. Romanes collected his various poems and had them privately printed. He writes to his sister:
February 1889.
Three weeks before the 11th I was wondering what I should get as a wedding-day present to mark the tenth anniversary. Ethel then chanced to say that she wished my poems were published, so that she could have them in type. This suggested to me the idea of putting them into type for private circulation, when they might serve at once as the required wedding-present, and as a preliminary to publication at any future time either by myself or, more probably, by her or someone else. So I got an estimate from the printer, and with an awful rush he set up the whole in a week. Proof corrections occupied another week, and the binding of a grand presentation copy the third week. Thus I only had my present ready a few hours before it had to be presented. Binding the other copies occupied the time till I sent you yours. In Ethel's copy (which is awfully swell) I have written a special sonnet, as I did in yours.
These poems, or rather a selection from them, will be published, in accordance with the author's wish.
Of his poetry, his sonnets (which were privately printed) seem the most successful. Various friends saw the privately printed book, and the present Professor of Poetry at Oxford gratified Mr. Romanes very much by his own kind words respecting them, and also by submitting them to Lord Tennyson, who spoke of them in kindly terms, as did also Dean Church, Mr. Edmund Gosse, Mr. George Meredith, and others. Two letters he received about his poems are here given:
From the Dean of St. Paul's.
Ettenheim, Torquay: February 26, 1889.
My dear Mr. Romanes,—Thank you very much for your kindness in thinking me worthy of your gift. I am always glad to see science and poetry go together. It was the way with the earliest efforts of natural science, as Empedocles and Lucretius; and when the strictest thinking of science is done, there is still something more of expression and meaning, of which poetry is the natural and only adequate interpreter.
My acquaintance with your volume is as yet only superficial. But I have been very much impressed by 'Charles Darwin,' and by the 'Dream of Poetry.' It is a very pleasant volume to open, and does not send one away empty and cold; which means that it is genuine poetry. We do not get on very fast; but we are better here than in London, and the place is pleasant.
Please remember us all to Mrs. Romanes. Mary sends a very special remembrance.
Yours faithfully,
R. W. Church.
From the Rt. Hon. W. E. Gladstone.
Hawarden.
Dear Mr. Romanes,—You have sent me an acceptable gift, and a most considerate note; considerate as regards me, but not, I fear, as respects yourself; for you have made your appeal to an incompetent judge. I do not think I possess, though I have always coveted, the gift of song, and I am not a qualified judge of those who have it.
But in your case there can surely be neither difficulty nor doubt. I came home on Saturday evening and found a book awaiting me with prior personal claims, which has taken up most of the short time since my arrival. It does not, however, I think, require much time to learn from your book whether you have or have not the poetic gift. Before many minutes had passed the affirmation, I will not say dawned, but glared, upon me.
I am very glad that you have proceeded to its further exercise. I can see no good reason why a man of science should not be a poet. Lord Bacon surely shows in his Essays that he had the poet in him. It all depends upon the way of going about it, and on the man's keeping himself, as man, above his pursuit, as Emerson well said long ago.
I do not quite apprehend your estimate of Darwin, nor of Darwin's works, in p. 119. This is no doubt due to my ignorance. I knew him little, but my slight intercourse with him impressed me deeply as well as pleasurably.
With sincere thanks, I remain, dear Mr. Romanes, faithfully yours,
W. E. Gladstone.
Mr. Romanes was an omnivorous reader of poetry, and this taste grew by what it fed on. On a holiday he read poetry in preference to anything else, and he was very fond of good anthologies, beginning first and foremost with the 'Golden Treasury.' Shakespeare, Milton, and, above all, Tennyson were the poets he most loved. For Byron he had had an early boyish enthusiasm, but this he seemed to outgrow; at least Byron was not an author to whom in later years he turned. He grew more and more addicted to versifying in the later years of his life, and girl friends who grew into intimate acquaintances were sure to have sooner or later a sonnet sent to them on some special occasion.
As the years went on he became more interested in work amongst the poor, and longed to take up some special line. For a while he set up a small school in a slum near the Euston Road, in which he tried to attract the very poorest boys who had managed to elude the vigilance of the School Board. His plan was to have only morning school, and to give the children their dinner. The School Board officer came to his aid, and the school was maintained for one or two winters.
He visited the school regularly, and on one occasion, finding that a boy had been grossly rude to the mistress, he gave the young scamp a sound whipping.
For other people's interests in the way of work he had much sympathy; he several times went down to the Christ Church mission at Poplar when the Rev. H. L. Paget was in charge, and he lectured at Toynbee Hall and at the Oxford House.
Of the work of the clergy as a whole Romanes always spoke most warmly; of the peculiar dislike of and suspicion of 'black coats,' so often attributed to laymen in general and to scientific men in particular, he had no trace, and as years went on he used to be gently chaffed for his clerical tendencies and the way in which he was consulted as to the bearings of Science on Religion.
Two new correspondents were now added to Mr. Romanes' list, Professor Joseph Le Conte, of the University of California, and the Rev. J. Gulick, who was, and is still, an American missionary in Japan. Of Mr. Gulick's scientific attainments, Mr. Romanes entertained a very high opinion. Unfortunately, none of the letters to Mr. Gulick have come to hand.
Of Mr. Le Conte's book, 'Evolution and Religious Thought,' Mr. Romanes thought very highly, and introduced it to the notice of various people, especially to Mr. Aubrey Moore.
He writes to Mr. Le Conte:
To Professor Le Conte.
Geanies, Ross-shire, N.B.: October 11, 1887.
Dear Sir,—I am much obliged to you for sending me a copy of your most interesting paper on Flora of the Coast Islands, &c.
If you are acquainted with my new theory of 'Physiological Selection' (published in 'Journ. Lin. Soc.' 1886) you will understand why I regard your facts as furnishing first-rate material for testing that theory. If you cannot get access to my paper, I will send you a copy on my return to London in December.
My object in now writing—over and above that of thanking you for your paper—is to ask whether you yourself, or any other American naturalist whom you may know, would not feel it well worth while to try some experiments on the hybridisation of the peculiar species. Although I agree with you in thinking it probable that many of these species may be 'remnants,' I also think it abundantly possible that some of them may be merely evolved forms. A botanist on the spot might be able to determine, by intelligent comparison, which of the peculiar species are most probably of the last-mentioned character. These he might choose for his experiments on hybridisation. And I should expect him to find marked evidence of mutual sterility between closely allied unique species growing on the same island, with possibly unimpaired fertility between allied species growing on different islands. If this anticipation should be realised by experiment, the fact would go far to prove my theory.
Even if you do not happen to know of any botanist who would care to undertake this experimental research, you might possibly know of some one who would gather and transmit seeds for me to grow in hothouses here.
I shall be much interested to hear what you think of these proposals, and meanwhile remain,
Yours truly,
G. J. Romanes.
Geanies.
My dear Sir,—Your book I will look forward to with much interest, and certainly not least so to your treatment of that very comprehensive question—'What then?'
I will send you a copy of my paper on Physiological Selection as soon as I return to London, which will be about Christmas.
With many thanks for your kindness, I remain, yours truly,
G. J. Romanes.
May 7, 1888.
My dear Sir,—Many thanks for sending me a copy of your book,[66] which seems to me everywhere admirable. Of course, I am particularly glad that you think with me so much on physiological selection, but even apart from this, the work is, to my mind, one of the most clearly thought out that I have met with in Darwinian literature. I have sent it on to 'Nature' for review, understanding from the office that a copy had not then been received. But for your kind mention of myself, I should have reviewed it.
A most remarkable paper has been sent to the Linnean Society by a Mr. Gulick on 'Divergent Evolution,' for the publication of which in the 'Journal' you might look out.
G. J. Romanes.
January 21, 1889.
My dear Sir,—I should like you to set your lucid wits to work upon the following questions, and let me know whether you can devise any answers.
On pp. 220-226 of your book, you state with extreme felicity, and much better than he does, Weismann's theory of the causes of variation. But it does not occur to him, and does not seem to have occurred to you, that there is a curious and unaccountable interruption in the ascending grades of sexual differentiation, for in the vegetable kingdom these do not follow the grades of taxonomic ascent; but, on the contrary, and as a general rule, the lower the order of evolution, the greater is the tendency to bi-sexualism. Diœcious species (i.e. male and female organs on different plants) occur in largest proportion among the lower Cryptogams, less frequently among the higher, and more rarely still among Phanerogams. Monœcious species (i.e. male and female organs on the same plant, but locally distinct) occur chiefly among the higher Cryptogams and lower Phanerogams; Hermaphrodite species (i.e. male and female organs in the same flower) occur much more frequently among higher Phanerogams.
There is, besides, another difficulty. According to Weismann and yourself, it is natural selection that has brought about sexuality 'for the sake of better results in the offspring,' by making them more variable or plastic. But how can natural selection act prophetically? Unless the variability is of use to the individuals at each stage of its advance, it cannot come under the sway of natural selection, however advantageous it may eventually prove to the type. But, if one thinks about it, how can such variability be of any use to the individual? Observe, beneficial variability is quite different from beneficial variation. It is the tendency to vary that is in question, not the occurrence of this, that, and the other display of it. Now, I do not see how sexuality can have been evolved by natural selection for the purpose of securing their tendency in the future, when it can never be of any use to individuals of the present. Each individual of the present is an accomplished fact; the tendency to produce variable offspring is, therefore, of no use to it individually, and so natural selection would have no reason to pick it out for living and propagating. Such is my difficulty touching this point. Another is, why do we meet with such great differences between (sometimes) allied natural genera, and even whole natural orders, as to the facility with which their constituent species hybridise? For example, species of genus Geranium will hybridise almost better than any other, those of the Pelargonium scarcely at all.
I hope that at some time you will be able to get sent to me seeds of species peculiar to oceanic islands, should you hear of any botanists who are visiting such islands.
G. J. Romanes.
I note that you have been good enough to pass my questions on to Mr. Greene, whose great kindness (already experienced by me) will, I trust, prevent him from thinking that the failure of the seeds to flower here was due to any negligence on my part.
Yes, it is the same Rev. Mr. Gulick whom you describe that wrote the paper on 'Divergent Evolution' to which I alluded, and which is a most remarkable paper in every way, though not at all easy to master. Wallace completely misunderstood it in his letter to 'Nature.' It was his work in shells that first led Mr. Gulick to study Isolation, and he has been at work upon the subject ever since. To the best of my judgment, he has demonstrated the necessity of what he calls 'segregate breeding' for 'polytypic evolution,' and in this connection has worked out the idea of physiological selection (which he calls segregate fecundity) much more fully than I have.
It is most astonishing to me with what a storm of opposition this idea has been met in England, and how persistent is the misunderstanding. In Germany and America it is being much more fairly treated, but meanwhile I intend to keep it as quiet as possible, till I shall be in a position to publish a large body of experimental observations. As far as time has hitherto allowed, the results are strongly corroborative of the theory.
I have now read your admirable book, and my only objection to it is that it seems in such large measure to anticipate the publication of my own course of lectures on the theory of Evolution which I am now giving at the Royal Institution. But, on the other hand, this will relieve me of the necessity of printing a good deal of my matter, as it will be sufficient to refer to your book in mine when the two cover common ground. It is needless to add that I am very glad to note you think so well of physiological selection.
Yours very truly,
G. J. Romanes.
The theory of the Non-Inheritance of Acquired Characters, with which Professor Weismann's name is inseparably connected, was now coming to the front.
Mr. Romanes was, of course, intensely interested, and set himself not to dispute so much as to examine and to test it.
He devoted a large part of his last year at the Royal Institution to lecturing on Prof. Weismann's theory, which lectures he worked up into his book, 'An Examination of Weismannism,' published in 1892.
He devised many experiments to test that theory, experiments which have a pathetic interest for those who love him, for they occupied his mind up to the very day of his death.
Of this theory it may safely be said that since the promulgation of Mr. Darwin's great doctrine, no problem has interested the world of science so profoundly.
For the most part the younger English naturalists have accepted Professor Weismann's theory, which, by the way had long ago been anticipated by Mr. Francis Galton, and Mr. Romanes was not much supported in his opposition, or, rather, his non-adherence to Weismannism.
Linnean Society, Burlington House, London, W.: March 21, 1890.
My dear Dyer,—I have come to the conclusion that anything published in 'Nature' might as well never have been published at all; and therefore have come here to-day in order to look through the back numbers of 'Nature,' with a view to republishing as a small book the various things that I have contributed during the past twenty years. Thus it is I find that the explanation which I gave to Herbert Spencer re Panmixia and his articles on the 'Factors of Organic Evolution,' appeared in August 25, 1887, and showed that his whole argument was in the air.
I have also read my own article on Panmixia, written about two mouths ago, and published last week. The result is to satisfy me that your 'intelligent' friends must have had minds which do not belong to the a priori order—i.e. are incapable of perceiving other than the most familiar relations. Such minds may do admirable work in other directions, but not in that of estimating the value of Darwinian speculations. A few years ago they would have thought the cessation of selection a very unimportant principle, and one which could not possibly sustain any such large question as that of the transmissibility of acquired character. And a few years hence they will wonder why they raised such an ado over the no less obvious principle of physiological selection.
Yours very truly,
G. J. Romanes.
He writes to his brother:
18 Cornwall Terrace, Regent's Park, N.W.: Sunday.
My dearest James,—This theory, of the Non-Inheritance of Acquired Characters, is that nothing that can happen in the lifetime of the individual exercises any influence on its progeny; effects of use or disuse, for example, cannot be inherited, nor, therefore, can any adaptation to external conditions which are brought about in individual organisms. Natural selection thus can only operate in spontaneous variations of germ-plasm, choosing those variations which, when 'writ large' in the resulting organisms, are best suited to survive and transmit.
This is the most important question that has been raised in biology since I can remember, and one proof of an inherited mutilation would settle the matter against Weismann's theory. I am therefore also trying the mutilation of caterpillars at the Zoo, in the hope that a mutilation during what is virtually an embryonic period of life will be most likely to be transmitted, seeing that congenital variations are so readily transmissible, and that these are changes of a pre-embryonic kind.
All well and with much love, yours ever,
George.
Have you got the 'Contemporary Review' for June with my article on Darwinism? If not, I will send it.
Another bit of work was an investigation into the intelligence of the chimpanzee 'Sally' at the Zoological Gardens, which the following letter describes:
SAVAGE versus BRUTE.
To the Editor of the 'Times' (Sept. 19, 1888).
Sir,—In connection with the correspondence on the powers of counting displayed by savages, it may be of interest to narrate the following facts with regard to similar powers as displayed by brutes.
One often hears a story told which seems to show that rooks are able to count as far as five. The source of this story, however, is generally found to have been forgotten, and therefore the story itself is discredited. Now, the facts stand on the authority of a very accurate observer, and as he adds that they are 'always to be repeated when the attempt is made,' so that they are regarded by him as 'among the very commonest instances of animal sagacity,' we cannot lightly set them aside. The observer in question is Leroy, and the facts for which he personally vouches in his work on animal intelligence are briefly as follows:
'The rooks will not return to their nests during daylight should they see that anyone is waiting to shoot them. If to lull suspicion a hut is made below the rookery and a man conceal himself therein, he will have to wait in vain, should the birds have ever been shot at from the hut on a previous occasion. Leroy then goes on to say: 'To deceive this suspicious bird, the plan was hit upon of sending two men into the watch-house, one of whom passed out while the other remained; but the rook counted and kept her distance. The next day three went, and again she perceived that only two returned. In fine, it was found necessary to send five or six men to the watch-house in order to throw out her calculation.'
Finding it on this testimony not incredible that a bird could count as far as five, I thought it worth while to try what might be done with a more intelligent animal in this connection. Accordingly, about a year ago, I began, with the assistance of the keeper, to instruct the chimpanzee at the Zoological Gardens in the art of computation. The method adopted was to ask her for one, two, three, four, or five straws, which she was to pick up and hand out from among the litter in her cage. Of course, no constant order was observed in making these requests, but whenever she handed a number not asked for her offer was refused. In this way the animal learnt to associate the numbers with their names. Lastly, if more than one straw were asked for she was taught to hold the others in her mouth until the required number was complete, and then to deliver the whole at once. This method prevented any possible error arising from her interpretation of vocal tones, an error which might well have arisen if each straw had been asked for separately.
After a few weeks' continuous instruction the ape perfectly well understood what was required of her, and up to the time when I left town, several months ago, she rarely made a mistake in handing me the exact number of straws that I named. Doubtless she still continues to do so for her keeper. For instance, if she is asked for four straws she successively picks up three and puts them in her mouth, then she picks up a fourth and hands over all the four together. Thus, there can be no doubt that the animal is clearly able to distinguish between the numbers 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5, and that she understands the name for each. But as this chimpanzee is somewhat capricious in her moods, even private visitors must not be disappointed if they fail to be entertained by an exhibition of her learning, a caution which it seems desirable to add, as this is the first time that the attainments of my pupil have been made known to the public, although they have been witnessed by officers of the Society and other biological friends.
I have sent these facts to you, Sir, because I think that they bear out the psychological distinction which is drawn in your leading article of the 17th inst. Briefly put, this distinction amounts to that between sensuous estimation and intellectual notation. Any child, a year after emerging from infancy, and not yet knowing its numerals, could immediately see the difference between five pigs and six pigs, and therefore, as your writer indicates, it would be an extraordinary fact if a savage were unable to do so. The case, of course, is different where any process of calculation is concerned: e.g. 'each sheep must be paid for separately; thus, suppose two sticks of tobacco to be the rate of exchange for one sheep, it would sorely puzzle a Damara to take two sheep and give him four sticks.' (F. Galton, 'Tropical South Africa,' p. 213.) But if the savage had to deal with a larger number of pigs the insufficiency of his sensuous estimation would increase with the increase of numbers, until a point would be reached at which, if he were to keep count at all, he would be obliged to resort to some system of notation, i.e. to mark off each separate unit with a separate nota, whether by fingers, notches, or words. Similarly with the sense of hearing and the so-called muscular sense. We can tell whether a clock strikes 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5 without naming each stroke, and whether we have walked 1, 2, 3, 4, or 5 paces without naming each pace, but we cannot in this way be sure whether a clock has struck 11 or 12, or we ourselves have, walked as many yards.
Thus there is counting and counting, distinguishing between low numbers by directly appreciating the difference between two quantities of sensuous perceptions, and distinguishing between numbers of any amount by marking each sensuous perception with a separate sign. Of course, in the above instance of animals counting it must be the former method alone that is employed, and, therefore, I have not sought to carry the ape beyond the number 5 lest I should spoil the results already gained. But a careful research has been made to find how far this method can be carried in the case of man. The experiments consisted in ascertaining the number of objects (such as dots on a piece of paper) which admit of being simultaneously estimated with accuracy. It was found that the number admits of being largely increased by practice, until, with an exposure to view of one second's duration, the estimate admits of being correctly made up to between 20 and 30 objects. (Preyer, 'Sitzungsber. d. Gesell, f. Med. u. Naturwiss.,' 1881.) In the case of the ape it is astonishing over how long a time the estimate endures. Supposing, for instance, that she is requested to find five coloured straws. She perfectly well understands what is wanted, but as coloured straws are rare in the litter, she has to seek about for them, and thus it takes her a long time to complete the number; yet she remembers how many she has successively found and put into her mouth, so that when the number is completed she delivers it at once. After having consigned them to her mouth she never looks at the straws, and therefore her estimate of their number must be formed either by the feeling of her mouth, or by retaining a mental impression of the successive movements of her arm in picking up the straws and placing them in her mouth. Without being able to decide positively in which of these ways she estimates the number, I am inclined to think it is in the latter. But, if so, it is surprising, as already remarked, over how long a time this estimate by muscular sense endures. Should we trust Houzeau's statement, however (and he is generally trustworthy), it appears that computation by muscular sense may extend in some animals over a very long period. For he says that mules used in the tramways at New Orleans have to make five journeys from one end of the route to the other before they are released, and that they make four of these journeys without showing any expectation of being released, but begin to bray towards the end of the fifth.[67]
From this letter it will, I hope, be apparent that so far as 'counting' by merely sensuous computation is concerned, the savage cannot be said to show much advance upon the brute. 'Once, while I watched a Damara floundering hopelessly in a calculation on one side of me, I observed Dinah, my spaniel, equally embarrassed on the other. She was overlooking half a dozen of her new-born puppies, which had been removed two or three times from her, and her anxiety was expressive as she tried to find out if they were all present, or if any were still missing. She kept puzzling and running her eyes over them, backwards and forwards, but could not satisfy herself. She evidently had a vague notion of counting, but the figure was too large for her brain. Taking the two as they stood, dog and Damara, the comparison reflected no great honour on the man.' (Galton, loc. cit.) But the case, of course, is quite otherwise when, in virtue of the greatly superior development of the sign-making faculty in man, the savage is enabled to employ the intellectual artifice of separate notation, whereby he attains the conception of number in the abstract, and so lays the foundation of mathematical science. Now, so far as I am aware, there is no trustworthy evidence of any race of savages who are without any idea of separate notation. Whether the system of notation be digital only, or likewise verbal, is, psychologically speaking, of comparatively little moment.
For it is historically certain that notation begins by using the fingers, and how far any particular tribe may have advanced in the direction of naming their numbers is a question which ought never to be confused with that as to whether the tribe can 'count' i.e. notate.
George J. Romanes.
Geanies, Ross-shire.