the light of our present knowledge we must regard the mutation as the basis of evolution—as the material upon which natural selection works. For it is the only form of variation of whose heredity we have any certain knowledge.
It is evident that this view of the process of evolution is in some respects at variance with that generally held during the past half century. There we were given the conception of an abstract type representing the species, and from it most of the individuals diverged in various directions, though, generally speaking, only to a very small extent. It was assumed that any variation, however small, might have a selection value, that is to say, could be transmitted to the offspring. Some of these would possess it in a less and some in a greater degree than the parent. If the variation were a useful one, those possessing to a rather greater extent would be favoured through the action of natural selection at the expense of their less fortunate brethren, and would leave a greater number of offspring, of whom some possessed it in an even more marked degree than themselves. And so it would go on. The process was a cumulative one. The slightest variation in a favourable direction gave natural selection a starting-point to work on. Through the continued action of natural selection on each successive generation the useful variation was gradually worked up, until at last it reached the magnitude of a specific
distinction. Were it possible in such a case to have all the forms before us, they would present the appearance of a long series imperceptibly grading from one extreme to the other.
Upon this view are made two assumptions not unnatural in the absence of any exact knowledge of the nature of heredity and variation. It was assumed, in the first place that variation was a continuous process, and, second, that any variation could be transmitted to the offspring. Both of these assumptions have since been shown to be unjustified. Even before Mendel's work became known Bateson had begun to call attention to the prevalence of discontinuity in variation, and a few years later this was emphasised by the Dutch botanist Hugo de Vries in his great work on The Mutation Theory. The ferment of new ideas was already working in the solution, and under the stimulus of Mendel's work they have rapidly crystallised out. With the advent of heredity as a definite science we have been led to revise our views as to the nature of variation, and consequently in some respects as to the trend of evolution. Heritable variation has a definite basis in the gamete, and it is to the gamete, therefore, not to the individual, that we must look for the initiation of this process. Somewhere or other in the course of their production is added or removed the factor upon whose removal or addition the new variation owes its existence. The new variation springs into being by a
sudden step, not by a process of gradual and almost imperceptible augmentation. It is not continuous but discontinuous, because it is based upon the presence or absence of some definite factor or factors—upon discontinuity in the gametes from which it sprang. Once formed, its continued existence is subject to the arbitrament of natural selection. If of value in the struggle for existence natural selection will decide that those who possess it shall have a better chance of survival and of leaving offspring than those who do not possess it. If it is harmful to the individual natural selection will soon bring about its elimination. But if the new variation is neither harmful nor useful there seems no reason why it should not persist.
In this way we avoid a difficulty that beset the older view. For on that view no new character could be developed except by the piling up of minute variations through the action of natural selection. Consequently any character found in animals and plants must be supposed to be of some definite use to the individual. Otherwise it could not have developed through the action of natural selection. But there are plenty of characters to which it is exceedingly difficult to ascribe any utility, and the ingenuity of the supporters of this view has often been severely taxed to account for their existence. On the more modern view this difficulty is avoided. The origin of a new variation is independent of natural
selection, and provided that it is not directly harmful there is no reason why it should not persist. In this way we are released from the burden of discovering a utilitarian motive behind all the multitudinous characters of living organisms. For we now recognise that the function of natural selection is selection and not creation. It has nothing to do with the formation of the new variation. It merely decides whether it is to survive or to be eliminated.
One of the arguments made use of by supporters of the older view is that drawn from the study of adaptation. Animals and plants are as a rule remarkably well adapted to living the life which their surroundings impose upon them, and in some cases this adaptation is exceedingly striking. Especially is this so in the many instances of what is called protective coloration, where the animal comes to resemble its surroundings so closely that it may reasonably be supposed to cheat even the keenest sighted enemy. Surely, we are told, such perfect adaptation could hardly have arisen through the mere survival of chance sports. Surely there must be some guiding hand moulding the species into the required shape. The argument is an old one. For John Ray that guiding hand was the superior wisdom of the Creator: for the modern Darwinian it is Natural Selection controlling the direction of variation. Mendelism certainly offers no suggestion of any such controlling force. It interprets the
variations of living forms in terms of definite physiological factors, and the diversity of animal and plant life is due to the gain or loss of these factors, to the origination of new ones, or to fresh combinations among those already in existence. Nor is there any valid reason against the supposition that even the most remarkable cases of resemblance, such as that of the leaf insect, may have arisen through a process of mutation. Experience with domestic plants and animals shows that the most bizarre forms may arise as sports and perpetuate themselves. Were such forms, arising under natural conditions, to be favoured by natural selection owing to a resemblance to something in their environment we should obtain a striking case of protective adaptation. And here it must not be forgotten that those striking cases to which our attention is generally called are but a very small minority of the existing forms of life.
For that special group of adaptation phenomena classed under the head of Mimicry, Mendelism seems to offer an interpretation simpler than that at present in vogue. This perhaps may be more clearly expressed by taking a specific case. There is in Africa a genus of Danaine butterflies known as Amauris, and there are reasons for considering that the group to which it belongs possesses properties which render it unpalatable to vertebrate enemies such as birds or monkeys. In the same region is also found the genus Euralia belonging to the entirely