Summary of second chapter[{265}].
Let us sum up this second chapter. If slight variations do occur in organic beings in a state of nature; if changes of condition from geological causes do produce in the course of ages effects analogous to those of domestication on any, however few, organisms; and how can we doubt it,—from what is actually known, and from what may be presumed, since thousands of organisms taken by man for sundry uses, and placed in new conditions, have varied. If such variations tend to be hereditary; and how can we doubt it,—when we see shades of expression, peculiar manners, monstrosities of the strangest kinds, diseases, and a multitude of other peculiarities, which characterise and form, being inherited, the endless races (there are 1200 kinds of cabbages[{266}]) of our domestic plants and animals. If we admit that every organism maintains its place by an almost periodically recurrent struggle; and how can we doubt it,—when we know that all beings tend to increase in a geometrical ratio (as is instantly seen when the conditions become for a time more favourable); whereas on an average the amount of food must remain constant, if so, there will be a natural means of selection, tending to preserve those individuals with any slight deviations of structure more favourable to the then existing conditions, and tending to destroy any with deviations of an opposite nature. If the above propositions be correct, and there be no law of nature limiting the possible amount of variation, new races of beings will,—perhaps only rarely, and only in some few districts,—be formed.
Limits of Variation.
That a limit to variation does exist in nature is assumed by most authors, though I am unable to discover a single fact on which this belief is grounded[{267}]. One of the commonest statements is that plants do not become acclimatised; and I have even observed that kinds not raised by seed, but propagated by cuttings, &c., are instanced. A good instance has, however, been advanced in the case of kidney beans, which it is believed are now as tender as when first introduced. Even if we overlook the frequent introduction of seed from warmer countries, let me observe that as long as the seeds are gathered promiscuously from the bed, without continual observation and careful selection of those plants which have stood the climate best during their whole growth, the experiment of acclimatisation has hardly been begun. Are not all those plants and animals, of which we have the greatest number of races, the oldest domesticated? Considering the quite recent progress[{268}] of systematic agriculture and horticulture, is it not opposed to every fact, that we have exhausted the capacity of variation in our cattle and in our corn,—even if we have done so in some trivial points, as their fatness or kind of wool? Will any one say, that if horticulture continues to flourish during the next few centuries, that we shall not have numerous new kinds of the potato and Dahlia? But take two varieties of each of these plants, and adapt them to certain fixed conditions and prevent any cross for 5000 years, and then again vary their conditions; try many climates and situations; and who[{269}] will predict the number and degrees of difference which might arise from these stocks? I repeat that we know nothing of any limit to the possible amount of variation, and therefore to the number and differences of the races, which might be produced by the natural means of selection, so infinitely more efficient than the agency of man. Races thus produced would probably be very “true”; and if from having been adapted to different conditions of existence, they possessed different constitutions, if suddenly removed to some new station, they would perhaps be sterile and their offspring would perhaps be infertile. Such races would be undistinguishable from species. But is there any evidence that the species, which surround us on all sides, have been thus produced? This is a question which an examination of the economy of nature we might expect would answer either in the affirmative or negative[{270}].
CHAPTER III
ON THE VARIATION OF INSTINCTS AND OTHER MENTAL ATTRIBUTES UNDER DOMESTICATION AND IN STATE OF NATURE; ON THE DIFFICULTIES IN THIS SUBJECT; AND ON ANALOGOUS DIFFICULTIES WITH RESPECT TO CORPOREAL STRUCTURES
Variation of mental attributes under domestication.
I have as yet only alluded to the mental qualities which differ greatly in different species. Let me here premise that, as will be seen in the Second Part, there is no evidence and consequently no attempt to show that all existing organisms have descended from any one common parent-stock, but that only those have so descended which, in the language of naturalists, are clearly related to each other. Hence the facts and reasoning advanced in this chapter do not apply to the first origin of the senses[{271}], or of the chief mental attributes, such as of memory, attention, reasoning, &c., &c., by which most or all of the great related groups are characterised, any more than they apply to the first origin of life, or growth, or the power of reproduction. The application of such facts as I have collected is merely to the differences of the primary mental qualities and of the instincts in the species[{272}] of the several great groups. In domestic animals every observer has remarked in how great a degree, in the individuals of the same species, the dispositions, namely courage, pertinacity, suspicion, restlessness, confidence, temper, pugnaciousness, affection, care of their young, sagacity, &c., &c., vary. It would require a most able metaphysician to explain how many primary qualities of the mind must be changed to cause these diversities of complex dispositions. From these dispositions being inherited, of which the testimony is unanimous, families and breeds arise, varying in these respects. I may instance the good and ill temper of different stocks of bees and of horses,—the pugnacity and courage of game fowls,—the pertinacity of certain dogs, as bull-dogs, and the sagacity of others,—for restlessness and suspicion compare a wild rabbit reared with the greatest care from its earliest age with the extreme tameness of the domestic breed of the same animal. The offspring of the domestic dogs which have run wild in Cuba[{273}], though caught quite young, are most difficult to tame, probably nearly as much so as the original parent-stock from which the domestic dog descended. The habitual “periods” of different families of the same species differ, for instance, in the time of year of reproduction, and the period of life when the capacity is acquired, and the hour of roosting (in Malay fowls), &c., &c. These periodical habits are perhaps essentially corporeal, and may be compared to nearly similar habits in plants, which are known to vary extremely. Consensual movements (as called by Müller) vary and are inherited,—such as the cantering and ambling paces in horses, the tumbling of pigeons, and perhaps the handwriting, which is sometimes so similar between father and sons, may be ranked in this class. Manners, and even tricks which perhaps are only peculiar manners, according to W. Hunter and my father, are distinctly inherited in cases where children have lost their parent in early infancy. The inheritance of expression, which often reveals the finest shades of character, is familiar to everyone.
Again the tastes and pleasures of different breeds vary, thus the shepherd-dog delights in chasing the sheep, but has no wish to kill them,—the terrier (see Knight) delights in killing vermin, and the spaniel in finding game. But it is impossible to separate their mental peculiarities in the way I have done: the tumbling of pigeons, which I have instanced as a consensual movement, might be called a trick and is associated with a taste for flying in a close flock at a great height. Certain breeds of fowls have a taste for roosting in trees. The different actions of pointers and setters might have been adduced in the same class, as might the peculiar manner of hunting of the spaniel. Even in the same breed of dogs, namely in fox-hounds, it is the fixed opinion of those best able to judge that the different pups are born with different tendencies; some are best to find their fox in the cover; some are apt to run straggling, some are best to make casts and to recover the lost scent, &c.; and that these peculiarities undoubtedly are transmitted to their progeny. Or again the tendency to point might be adduced as a distinct habit which has become inherited,—as might the tendency of a true sheep dog (as I have been assured is the case) to run round the flock instead of directly at them, as is the case with other young dogs when attempted to be taught. The "transandantes" sheep[{274}] in Spain, which for some centuries have been yearly taken a journey of several hundred miles from one province to another, know when the time comes, and show the greatest restlessness (like migratory birds in confinement), and are prevented with difficulty from starting by themselves, which they sometimes do, and find their own way. There is a case on good evidence[{275}] of a sheep which, when she lambed, would return across a mountainous country to her own birth-place, although at other times of year not of a rambling disposition. Her lambs inherited this same disposition, and would go to produce their young on the farm whence their parent came; and so troublesome was this habit that the whole family was destroyed.